Campus colorlines: the changing boundaries of race within institutions of higher education in the post-civil rights era

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Content CAMPUS COLORLINES:
THE CHANGING BOUNDARIES OF RACE WITHIN INSTITUTIONS OF HIGHER
EDUCATION IN THE POST-CIVIL RIGHTS ERA

by

Patricia Elizabeth Literte

A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(SOCIOLOGY)

August 2007

Copyright 2007 Patricia Elizabeth Literte
ii

Dedication
For Sylvia Zomalt
iii
Acknowledgements
The completion of my dissertation and doctorate could not have been accomplished
without the love, kindness, guidance, support, encouragement, and feedback of countless
people, to whom I am indebted. I offer my deepest thanks and gratitude to…
my family – Mom, Dad, Katie, Grandma, and all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins – for
your love and support,
my dear friends of many years – Elline Ballo, Claudette Banda, Tamika Lang, Ruby Lao,
Mariette Salama, and Kristine San Luis – for always cheering me on,
my dissertation committee – Leland Saito, Ricardo Stanton-Salazar, and Janelle Wong –
for your guidance, mentorship, and insightful critique of my work,
the administrators and staff of the Sociology Department at USC – especially Stachelle
Overland – for your assistance throughout the years with registering for classes, filling
out forms, and preparing for exams, classes, and presentations,
my fellow graduate student, friend, and ally – Marc De Jong – for making me laugh
throughout the trials and tribulations of graduate school,
my close friend, confidante, and fellow graduate student – Nate Sessoms – for being you
and having faith in me,
my dissertation writing group – Rozanna Carducci, Melissa Contreras-McGavin, Zoë
Corwin, and Jenny Stoever – for your inspiration, comradeship, and kind feedback, all
shared over good food,
my mentors from my undergraduate years at Loyola Marymount University – especially
Dr. Jim Faught from the Department of Sociology – for helping me to grow both
intellectually and professionally,
iv
and all of my students – for helping me become a better teacher, researcher, and human
being.
v
Table of Contents

Dedication ii
Acknowledgements iii
Abstract vii
Chapter 1: Introduction 1
The Changing Nature of Race in Post-Civil Rights Society

Part 1: Institutional Histories 88
Understanding the Racial Dynamics of Three Universities

Chapter 2: Western University 128
The Long, Strange Path from Racial Leftism to
Colorblindness

Chapter 3: California University 185
A Bastion of Conservatism Rethinks its Identity in
the Post-Affirmative Action Era

Chapter 4: Bay University 260
A Majority-Minority School Struggles and
Embraces Multiculturalism

Part 2: The Construction and Mobilization of Biracial Identity 310
Disrupting the Monoracial Landscape of Universities

Chapter 5: Western University and California University 389
Biracial Students:
Facing Double Consciousness, Otherness, and the
Complexities of Organizing

Chapter 6: Bay University 442
The Force of Working Class Status, the One Drop
Rule, and Mestizaje:
The Absence of Biracial Students

Part 3: “We all share the same struggle” 481
Coalition Building and the Formation of People of Color
Identity among University Students

vi

Chapter 7: Western University 524
The Power of Students of Color:
A Tradition of Resistance Continues in the Wake
of Proposition 209

Chapter 8: California University 543
Contesting Apathy and the Strength of
Monoracialism:
Students of Color Struggle to Engage New Racial
Politics

Chapter 9: Bay University 556
Working Class Obligations, Segregation, and the
Black-Brown Conflict:
The Diminishment of Coalitions and People of
Color Identity among Students

Chapter 10: Conclusion 577

Bibliography 621

vii
Abstract
The post-Civil Rights era has been characterized by numerous challenges to traditional
understandings of race. The dismantling of legalized segregation and discrimination,
ongoing immigration from Asia and Latin America, increasing acceptance of interracial
contact and relationships, and relatively unceasing conflict between the Western and
Arab world, are just some of the socio-political trends and events which have yielded an
increasingly fluid, complex, and intricate racial terrain. Given the increasing fluidity of
race in U.S. society, the overarching goal of this dissertation is to illuminate the nature
and implications of changing racial identity boundaries in the post-Civil Rights era. In
order to fulfill this goal, I examine (1) the experiences of university students who defy
conventional racial identity categorizations, (2) the processes of
organization/mobilization in which these students engage, and (3) the role universities
play in shaping and responding to these students, whose racial identities and politics are
often incongruent with the institutions’ views of race. The majority of research on
college students’ racial identities and racialized political activity focuses on conventional
understandings of racial identity, which rely on the assumption that there are five singular
racial categories – black/African American, Latino/a, white, Asian American, and Native
American. Less is known about racial identities and corollary political activity which
falls outside these boundaries. My dissertation addresses this gap through a two-tiered
analysis. First, I comparatively examine how students come to organize/mobilize around
two identities which challenge singular or “monoracial” conceptualizations of race: (1)
biracial identity and (2) “people of color” identity. Second, I examine how monoracially
oriented student services (i.e., black student service offices) respond to such
viii
organization/mobilization. Study of these processes within the particular domain of
higher education can assist student service practitioners in the formulation and
implementation of programming on increasingly diverse campuses and can provide
insight into how students can more fully participate in their universities’ public life. My
methods of data collection include interviews (N = 90) with students and administrators,
student focus groups, observation, and archival research.
1
Chapter 1: Introduction
Introduction: The Changing Nature of Race in Post-Civil Rights
Society

The Friday after the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, members of the
Muslim Student Union gathered for sundown prayers on their university campus in
California. Coming together for Friday prayers was nothing new, but this was no
ordinary Friday, as the week’s events had cast a glaring and hostile spotlight on
Muslims throughout the U.S. Realizing the potential dangers that their fellow
students were facing, members of MEChA (Movimiento Estudiantil Chicano de
Aztlán), not the campus police as some might expect, encircled the praying students,
protecting them from harassment and violence.
Five years later, on the same university campus, two female students, both of
white and Filipina heritage, decided to attend a meeting of the campus’ large Filipino
club. When they arrived, the Filipina student manning the sign-in table turned to
another club member and asked, “Do they have to sign in too?” Resenting what they
perceived to be discriminatory treatment, these two racially mixed students never
returned to the Filipino club.
The Muslim, Chican@, and biracial students’ stories reflect larger, ongoing
changes in the racial dynamics of the U.S. that challenge the way we think about
race. In the post-Civil Rights era, the dismantling of legalized segregation and
discrimination, ongoing immigration from Asia and Latin America, increasing
acceptance of interracial contact and relationships, and relatively unceasing conflict
between the Western and Arab world, are just some of the socio-political trends and
2
events which have yielded an increasingly fluid, complex, and intricate racial terrain
(Khalidi, 2005; Massey, 2003; Park and Park, 2005; Root, 2001). This terrain is
characterized by porous racial identity boundaries, exemplified by the emergence of
racially ambiguous groups such as those of mixed race, as well as Muslim and Arab
Americans (Boosahda, 2003; DaCosta, 2007; Haddad, 2004). Moreover, these racial
identity fluctuations are often accompanied by unexpected identity politics and
political alliances, such as that between the Muslim and Chican@ students. In turn,
social institutions, from churches, to schools, to government, are struggling to
address these changing racial dynamics (Alex-Assensoh and Hanks, 2000; Williams,
2006).
Given the increasing fluidity of race in U.S. society, the overarching goal of
this dissertation is to illuminate the nature and implications of changing racial
identity boundaries in the post-Civil Rights era. In order to fulfill this goal, I
examine (1) the experiences of university students who defy conventional racial
identity categorizations, (2) the processes of organization/mobilization in which
these students engage, and (3) the role universities play in shaping and responding to
these students, whose racial identities and politics are often incongruent with the
institutions’ views of race. I have chosen to study students and higher education
because they play unique and powerful roles in U.S. racial dynamics. More
specifically, universities have long functioned as flashpoints for ideological debates
over race and battles over the role of race in resource distribution (Chang, Witt,
Jones, and Hakuta, 2003; Takagi, 1992). Students have been important participants
in these battles, often parlaying their personal experiences with race into collective
3
political action (Boren, 2001; Rhoads, 1998). In order to shed light on universities
and students’ roles in changing racial formations, this dissertation draws upon
interviews, focus groups, and archival research gathered from three universities in
California - a University of California, California State University, and private
institution.
The data in this dissertation is analyzed utilizing racial formations theory, one
of the most prominent sociological theories of race, and in turn, makes significant
contributions to the existing research on race. Michael Omi and Howard Winant
(1994) define racial formations theory as “the socio-historical process by which
racial categories are created, inhabited, transformed, and destroyed…A racial
project is simultaneously an interpretation, representation, or explanation of racial
dynamics, and an effort to redistribute resources” (p. 56). Given this definition, I
argue that racial formations are increasingly in flux in the post-Civil Rights era, as
exemplified by the significant number of college students who assert that the
categories of African American/Black, Latin@, American Indian, Asian Pacific
American, and white do not fully capture their identities and lived experiences.
Moreover, these students engage in mobilization and organization processes which
manifest student organizations, and can often be considered racial projects. Finally,
as social institutions, universities are also active in the racial formations process, by
legitimating particular racial identities and projects which may at times vary from
those asserted by students.
This dissertation thus broadly examines changes in the social construction of
race in the post-Civil Rights era, as well as the political activity and institutional
4
contexts and responses associated with these changes. Such a focus is significant
both in terms of intellectual thought and policy making. More specifically, the
increasing fluidity in racial boundaries exemplified by the students in this study
speaks to larger questions regarding the contemporary nature of race in U.S. society.
Does this increasing fluidity mark the onset of a colorblind society, in which race
will no longer matter? Or is it merely the extension of the politics of difference, with
the opportunity for people to choose from a wide range of identities associated with
special interests? To what degree are people’s racial identities still ascribed in this
porous post-Civil Rights terrain? These questions regarding racial identity are
salient not only for individuals, rather they possess implications for organization and
mobilization processes, as well as for institutions. How is the increasing instability
of race and the propensity for persons to identify themselves in a manner which
departs from traditional thinking on race, shaping racialized organization and
mobilization? Does the proliferation of new racial identities produce new racial
spaces which are conducive to coalition building? Or are people more inclined to
organize and mobilize around specific niche identities? How are social institutions
responding to the increasing fluidity of race and concomitant racialized organization
and mobilization? Do institutions acknowledge that racial dynamics are changing?
Beyond such acknowledgement, are institutions actively addressing these post-Civil
Rights dynamics with alterations in existing policies and programming? This
dissertation seeks to answer these questions by examining the experiences of
students within the specific social context and domain of higher education. By so
5
doing, I hope to shed light on the dynamics and nature of post-Civil Rights racial
formations in larger society.
Dissertation Framework and Research Questions
In this dissertation, I utilize a three – fold analysis to examine fluctuating
racial identity boundaries among college students, student organization/mobilization
around racial identity, and the influence of institutions of higher education on the
processes of racial identity construction and corollary political activity.
First, I deconstruct the formation of racial identities which disrupt the
American racial pentagon and monoracialism. The American racial pentagon refers
to the belief that there are five, discrete racial categories/identities: African
American/Black
1
, white, Latin@
2
, Native American
3
, Asian Pacific American
(Yetman, 1998). Monoracialism serves as the basis for the racial pentagon by
asserting that persons fall into one, and only one, racial category. Monoracialism has
historically served as the basis for understanding race in the U.S. and has
consequently, guided and structured the vast majority of academic thought on race,
with the exception of a few groups of literature focused on deviations from
monoracialism, such as the mulatto during the slavery and antebellum eras, and more
recently, multiracial persons (Lemire, 2002; Talty, 2004; Winters and DeBose,
2003). In my deconstruction of racial identities which circumvent the racial
pentagon and monoracialism, I comparatively focus on two racial identities: (1)
biracial identity and (2) “people of color” identity. For purposes of this study, a

1
In this dissertation I use the terms “African American” and “Black” interchangeably.
2
I utilize @ here to create a gender sensitive term which refers to both Latinos and Latinas.
3
In this dissertation I use the terms “Native American” and “American Indian” interchangeably.
6
biracial person is defined as an individual whose biological parents retain different
monoracial designations – for example, a person with an African American father
and Asian American mother. I have chosen to focus on biracial people in particular,
rather than all multiracial people, for the sake of specificity. Furthermore, a
multiracial people may only have distant relatives of another race, which I argue may
have a much less tangible effect on people’s lives and identities than having parents
of two different races. An individual who claims a people of color identity is defined
as a person who identifies with all of the racial “minority” groups – African
Americans, Latin@s, Native Americans, and Asian Pacific Americans.
Biracial identity and people of color identity constitute the foci for this
dissertation because they are non-monoracial identities around which students have
organized and mobilized in both historic and contemporary times. During the late
sixties and early seventies, Black, Chican@, Asian Pacific American, and American
Indian students created the Third World Liberation Front in the San Francisco Bay
area and simultaneously asserted a people of color identity in order to advance
shared political interests within higher education, including implementation and
expansion of affirmative action and ethnic studies, as well as the hiring of faculty of
color (Louie and Omatsu, 2001; Umemoto, 1989). Moreover, just as people of color
identity began to challenge monoracialism and the racial pentagon in the late sixties
and seventies, biracial students have continued this challenge in the nineties and
present era. Following the lead of the larger multiracial/biracial identity movement,
which sought the addition of a multiracial category to the 2000 Census, college
7
students have become leaders of organizations which seek to advocate for persons
who assert multiracial/biracial identities (Renn, 2004).
Second, I interrogate the process of politicized organization and mobilization
around these racial identities. Such an interrogation is significant as racial
formations frames race and racial identity as inherently politicized constructions that
are sites of continuing contestation and negotiation on the political plane. Key here
are consequential racial projects that promote a rearticulation of dominant racial
ideologies and seek a redistribution of resources. In this dissertation, I examine the
processes whereby students claiming either biracial or people of color identities
engage in student organizations on the basis of their identities, and argue that at
times, these organizing processes can be considered racial projects. That is, student
organizations, such as a Hapa Club or Students of Color Coalition, represent students
who have recognized that race has “material importance,” rearticulated or
reinterpreted dominant racial thinking, and translated their racial identities and
racialized experiences into organizations to negotiate the concrete and symbolic
implications of race (Saito, 1998, p.198).
Third, I analyze the institution of higher education as a source and context for
the formation of biracial and people of color identities and subsequent organization
and mobilization. The university campus is a compelling and appropriate site for the
study of racial formations and corollary political activity due to its unique historic
and contemporary role as a flashpoint for volatile racial discourses and racial protest.
During the sixties and early seventies these discourses and protests revolved around
issues of integration, minority student enrollment, ethnic studies programs,
8
affirmative action, racial make-up of faculty, and racialized curriculum (Chávez,
2002; Jackson, 2006; Lefever, 2005; Williamson, 2003; Wu and Song, 2000). In the
contemporary post-Civil Rights era, debates regarding the merits and validity of
programs and policies which emerged from the sixties and early seventies, rage on,
and have at times resulted in the dismantling of race conscious programs and
policies, most evidently that of affirmative action (Anderson, 2005). In this
dissertation I contend that these debates, as well as the implementation and
destruction of race based/conscious policies and programs, is complicated by the
changing demographics of student populations and related changes in racial identity
formations. More specifically, college students today are more likely to racially
identify themselves in ways which defy the logics of the racial pentagon, such as
identifying oneself as multiracial or Muslim or not racially identifying at all. Yet
institutional policies and programming pertaining to race, and the surrounding
discourses and debates, are generally rooted in monoracialism. Consequently, this
research seeks to deconstruct the relationship between institutions of higher
education, long molded by the forces of monoracialism, and students who are
pushing racial boundaries and seeking to create new political, cultural, and social
space in which non-monoracial identities may be engaged.
My dissertation thus demonstrates how the processes of racial identity
formation and political activity are changing in the post-Civil Rights era and how
social institutions, steeped in monoracialism, are responding to these changes. To
that end, the following research questions guide my dissertation:
9
(1) What do the changing boundaries of racial identity and concurrent,
mutually constitutive changes in political organization/mobilization on
college campuses tell us about the nature of race in the post-Civil Rights
4

era?

(2) How is the university as a social institution responding to the changing
racial identity boundaries and concurrent, mutually constitutive changes in
political organization/mobilization amongst students?
With the aforementioned research questions in mind, this introductory
chapter lays the basic groundwork for this dissertation in the following ways. First,
in order to construct a cohesive theoretical and conceptual framework for this
dissertation, I review and critique sociological theories of race, particularly as they
pertain to racial identity and the propagation of monoracialism as a means to
understand racial identity. Moreover, I also discuss the limited schools of literature
which have investigated biracial identity and people of color identity. Second, I
present my theoretical framework for this dissertation, which centers racial
formations. Third, I discuss the importance of institutions of higher education as the
site and context for this study. More specifically, I engage in a brief socio-historical
discussion of universities’ role and participation in ideological and material
debates/disputes regarding race. Fourth, I interrogate the nature of racialized student
activism in the post-Civil Rights era. In particular, I investigate the factors
contributing to the relative decline in large scale student activism, and the ways in
which an increasingly complex racial terrain has yielded localized, micro-level

4
When I refer to the Civil Rights era, I am referring to the time period from the mid fifties to the early
seventies, which was characterized by racialized social movements such as Civil Rights, Black,
Chicano, Yellow, and Red Power, and Third World movements. Although these later cultural
nationalist movements departed from key tenets of the Civil Rights movement, such as pacifism, I still
place them in the same era, given that they represent a continuation and evolution of Civil Rights
activism, occurring during a relatively short period of time.

10
activism. Fifth, I illuminate the significance of this dissertation and its interventions
in the literature. Key contributions include an interrogation of institutions’ role in
racial formations, the re-conceptualization of racial identity as implicitly political,
the contestation of dominant psychological analyses of college students’ racial
identities, and the analysis of minority-minority relations. Finally, I discuss my
research design and methodology, as well as the organization of chapters.
Literature Review
Who is Black? Who is white? What does it mean to be Latin@? How is
Asian Pacific American identity manifested in lived experience? At a cursory
glance, such questions appear as if they have little or nothing to do with biracial
identity or people of color identity. Yet in order to examine non-monoracial
formations, it is necessary to first interrogate how monoracial identities are
constructed by examining the major theoretical paradigms of race. In the following
discussions, I analyze the significance of biological theories of race, ethnicity based
theories of race, class based theories of race, and nationalist theories of race. In my
analysis, I highlight the ways in which these theories have either explicitly or
implicitly reified monoracial thinking about race and racial identity.
Deconstructing Monoracialism: Biological Theories of Race
As the most prevalent form of racial identification and categorization in the
U.S., it should be recognized that monoracialism is derivative of biological theories
of race. From the 16
th
through the 19
th
Century, the notion that race is a biological
characteristic genetically inherited, functioned as the dominant theoretical paradigm
for understanding race. Moreover, biologism shaped eugenic and social Darwinist
11
thinking, influencing sociologists such as Herbert Spencer (1981[1884]), who framed
the development of societies in evolutionary terms, believing in the survival of the
fittest (Davenport, 1911; Winant, 2000). Biologism contended that (1) the races and
corresponding racial categories are essentialist, discrete, immutable groupings, and
(2) the races exist hierarchically, where placement on the hierarchy corresponds with
particular group characteristics, such as capacity for moral behavior and physical and
intellectual capabilities (Feagin, 2001; Omi and Winant, 1994). Thus, biological
monoracialism inextricably linked ideology about race, in particular, ideologies of
white supremacy and non-white inferiority, with material conditions that manifested
themselves in the denial of rights and resources to non-whites (Winant, 2000). More
specifically, with its attribution of genetically inherited inferiority to non-white
groups, biologism theory created an effective ideological rationale and justification
for the enslavement and economic exploitation of people of color by Western
colonial and imperial nation states (Winant, 2000).
Furthermore, elite white leaders were among the main proponents of
biologism, thus reinforcing the legitimacy of white supremacy among the populace
(Appiah and Gutman, 1998). Thomas Jefferson constructed lengthy, published
articles which asserted that “Blacks…are inferior to whites in reasoning,
imagination, and beauty…Blacks have produced no important thinkers, poets,
musicians, or intellectuals,” and philosopher Immanuel Kant was responsible for one
of many constructed hierarchies which attributed traits of intellect and civility to the
superior white race, and relegated Blacks to nearly subhuman status (Eze, 1997,
p.130; Feagin, 2001, p.80). The role of white leaders in the propagation of biologism
12
also indicates the great degree to which racism became instrumentally embedded in
the formation of the U.S. as a nation state – so much so that in the formation of the
Constitution, Blacks were defined as 3/5 of a person. Such historical realities
exemplify that racism is not merely an illness plaguing an otherwise healthy
America, but lies at the core of American political, economic and social institutions
(Blauner, 1972; Feagin, 2001).
Yet by the early 20
th
century biologism began to falter as a viable race theory.
W.E.B. Du Bois (1999 [1903]) challenged the conceptualization of racial identity as
a discrete biological variable with his construction of “double consciousness:”
After the Egyptian and Indian, the Greek and Roman, the Teuton and
Mongolian, the Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted
with second sight in this American world – a world which yields him no true
self consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the
other world. It is a peculiar sensation, this double consciousness, this sense
of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s
soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and self pity.
One ever feels his twoness, -- an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts,
two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose
dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder (p. 10 –11).

As a powerful characterization of Black identity, double consciousness, also known
as duality, illustrated that racial identity is not simply a discrete, biological
characteristic, but rather for African Americans is a lived social process of conflict
between the individual and the racial status ascribed by larger society (Katz and
Sugrue, 1998).

13
Ethnicity Theories of Race: Assimilation and Cultural Pluralism
By the mid 20
th
century, biologism was roundly viewed as a faulty theory of
race, and other theories of ethnicity, class, and nation proliferated. Ethnicity theory
challenged social Darwinism and eventually produced two significant strains of race
thinking – assimilation and cultural pluralism - which primarily rely on factors of
culture and descent to explain race. (Omi and Winant, 1994). Assimilation theory
has dominated much of race thinking throughout American history and initially
sought to explain how early 20
th
century immigrants from southern and central
Europe maintained their ethnicity and what factors would lead to integration into
white, Anglo Saxon American society (Waters, 1990). In Assimilation in American
Life (1964), Milton Gordon defined full scale assimilation as a linear process
including structural assimilation, identificational assimilation, and
cultural/behavioral assimilation, which would lead to upward mobility. In a similar
fashion, the Chicago School’s Robert Park (1930), a predecessor of Gordon,
constructed the race relations cycle, consisting of contact, competition, and eventual
assimilation. Park viewed this process as progressive, inevitable, and irreversible.
Eventually, researchers such as Gunnar Myrdal attempted to impose the
assimilationist paradigm upon Blacks. In The American Dilemma, Myrdal (1962)
argued that Black assimilation was the sole way to reconcile the contradiction
between the American creed of democracy and equality with America’s treatment of
Blacks.
In contrast to assimilation, cultural pluralism “argues that ethnic assimilation
is not inevitable,” and in its most liberal form argues that the maintenance of ethnic
14
identities is in fact, desirable for a democratic state (Kallen, 1915; Waters, 1990,
p.5). While assimilation and early strains of cultural pluralism were primarily
concerned with European ethnics, cultural pluralism increasingly focused on non-
European immigrants (Asians and Latin@s), who arrived after the passage of the
1965 Immigration Act, and on the consequences of the racialized movements of the
sixties and the seventies (Espiritu, 1997). Politically, cultural pluralists used their
theory to advance one of two arguments in regards to people of color – either non-
white immigrants were not to be feared, for clearly earlier European immigrants had
eventually become part of the fabric of the American citizenry, or non-whites were
to be indicted for failing to independently advance in American society, without the
help of governmental policy, such as the Voting Rights Act (Waters, 1990).
Exemplifying the former sentiment, in Beyond the Melting Pot, Nathan Glazer and
Patrick Moynihan (1964) conceived of the Civil Rights movement as an indication of
democratic political pluralism which could lead to fuller incorporation of Blacks into
American society.
While ethnicity theory is valuable for successfully creating an alternative to
biological theories of race and highlighting the importance of culture, the paradigm
is extremely flawed for several reasons. First, it has not centered race, instead
privileging constructs of culture and descent, and hence neglecting structural power
dynamics. Second, ethnicity theory assumes a linear trajectory by which immigrants
assimilate into the host society, therefore assuming that the host society remains
static and ignoring phenomena such as transnationalism. Third, the paradigm has
often explicitly or implicitly asserted that assimilation into Anglo or Euro American
15
culture is a desirable solution to the immigrant “problem.” Fourth, ethnicity theory
was based on the experiences of white ethnics yet then imposed onto the non-white
immigrant and Black experience without accounting for disparate structural, social,
and political experiences amongst racial and ethnic groups
5
. Finally, perhaps most
compelling and troubling, is that ethnicity theory most recently seems to have
deteriorated into colorblind ideology in contemporary times (Bonilla Silva, 2003).
Embedded in these flaws is ethnicity’s adherence to monoracialism. While
ethnicity theorists recognize culture as fluid, they fail to similarly deconstruct race
and racial categories. For example, Myrdal conceived of Blacks and whites as
discrete, dichotomous groups, and Gordon and Park accorded a homogeneity to
groups by contending that immigrant groups would eventually “blend into” the
majority groups. Such assertions denied the potential for internal heterogeneity
within racial groups and the existence of larger institutional and structural forces,
including white supremacy, which were responsible for ethnic and racial
stratification.
Class Based Theories of Race
Class based theories of race, such as market relations, stratification, and class
conflict, assert that racial inequality/stratification is the result of class
inequality/stratification, thereby rejecting biologism and assuming a more structural
approach than the ethnicity paradigm (Omi and Winant, 1994). Drawing on Marx’s
work, which clearly tied racial stratification to exploitative Western forays into the

5
One example of structural constraints is exclusionary immigration laws, such as the Chinese
Exclusionary Act of 1882, undertaken to prevent/lessen immigration from Asian, Latin, and African
countries (Espiritu, 2000).

16
Third World, Oliver Cox (1948), an early class-race theorist, utilized Marxist
principles to analyze the commodification of Black laborers (McClellan, 2000).
More modern theories include split labor market theory, which attributes differentials
in the price of labor not to racial differences, but to disparities in economic and
political resources and motives (Bonacich, 1972). Today, the most prominent class
theorist is William Julius Wilson, who focuses on racial stratification. While Wilson
(1978) clearly recognizes the history of Blacks’ racial oppression in the U.S. and
continuing experiences with discrimination, he argues that although racism created
the conditions for Black overrepresentation in lower class strata, racism is no longer
the primary reason for Blacks’ marginal status in society - rather it is the
reproduction of the class system.
The primary weakness of a class analysis of race is that it fails to conceive of
race as an independent social phenomenon and views race as subordinate to class.
There is an array of evidence that shows racism and racial inequality, while
connected to class inequality, are not necessarily mere outgrowths of class
inequality. For example, Joe Feagin (1994) empirically illuminates the racial
discrimination experienced by middle class Blacks, and Melvin Oliver and Thomas
Shapiro’s (1997) Black Wealth/White Wealth is evidence that the new Black middle
class is not on par with the white middle class. This inequality is the result of racial
discrimination which has prevented Blacks from accumulating wealth in the form of
assets (i.e., stocks, bonds, and property), and therefore “passing down” these assets
via inheritance.
17
Like ethnicity theory, class based analyses of race also fail to interrogate
racial categories and tend to implicitly confirm monoracialism. In the minds of class
based theorists, people’s economic class functions as their primary identity, while
their racial identity is secondary. As a consequence, class theorists tend to gloss over
the socially constructed nature of race and do not concern themselves with the
processes whereby persons become a part of socially recognizable racial groups.
Nationalist Theories of Race
Nationalist theoretical thinking about race functioned as a response to the
perceived failings of biological, ethnicity, and culture of poverty conceptions of race,
which were viewed as racist, a-structural, and a-historical. In particular, nationalists
rejected assimilation, believing (1) assimilation of people of color was not possible
as described by assimilationists, since assimilation was premised on the experiences
of white ethnics that were fundamentally different from the colonial status of people
of color, and (2) assimilation, even if possible, was wholly undesirable for it would
only come about via white domination and devaluation of non-white cultures
(Blauner, 1972). Against a backdrop of Civil Rights and cultural nationalism,
nationalist theorizing of race instead indicted white racial oppression, sought to
empower and center the experiences of people of color, and connected the domestic
experiences of people of color with Third World peoples around the globe through
concepts such as Pan Africanism (Takaki, 1993). Internal colonialism in particular
drew upon the colonizer-colonized dynamic to describe the position of people of
color within the U.S. (Carmichael and Hamilton, 1967). This theory highlighted
18
many manifestations of racial oppression, from white destruction of African culture,
to the violent seizure of Mexican land (Blauner, 1972).
Although nationalist theories are the most useful out of the theories discussed
thus far, due to their attention to structure and the dynamics of oppression, it seems
that in the post-Civil Rights era, nationalist theories are limited. The degree to which
the colonizer – colonized framework can be applied to people of color is dubious
because even in the most extreme analysis, today’s Asian and Latin American
immigrants are largely not forced, but coerced to immigrate, and Asian and Latin
American immigrants in many ways are now more able to maintain their culture and
ethnic communities. Moreover, perhaps due to its strident commitment to the
liberation and autonomy of communities of color, the nationalist viewpoint tends to
gloss over the salience of intersectionality. For example, cultural nationalism, as
both a theory and movement, was patriarchal and emphasized masculinity, viewing
the concerns of women of color as a distraction from anti-racism (Garcia, 1997). It
furthermore does not account for the changing class dynamics in communities of
color, whereby middle class non-whites are increasingly gaining economic and
political power.
Nationalistic theories of race, with its dichotomous framing of race relations
– the colonizer versus the colonized, the oppressor versus the oppressed, whites
versus people of color – reifies monoracial thinking about race in dogmatic terms.
There is little room to examine persons and identities who occupy multiple racial
spaces or even bridge these dichotomous groupings. As a consequence, nationalist
19
theories are limited in the post-Civil Rights era, given the increasing fluidity which
characterizes race and racial boundaries.
The Legacy of Biologism and Monoracialism
Although biologism had been abandoned, and ethnicity, class, and nation
based theories of race engaged, the paradigm influenced the American racial
landscape and mind, leaving behind deep rooted ideologies of white supremacy,
racist institutional policies which created unequal access to resources and
opportunities, and monoracialism as the primary mode for racial categorization.
Subscription to monoracialism continued to guide much of the research on race well
into the late 20
th
century. As Glenn (2002, p.10) states in Unequal Freedom, prior
to the 1980s, “how categories such as Black and white were historically created and
maintained was not investigated.” That is, although categories and corollary
identities of white, Black, Asian, etc. were recognized as non - biological, they were
still treated as discrete and static variables existing apart from historical and political
forces. But as historians and social scientists began to investigate the dynamics of
racial categories and identities, research on Blackness, whiteness, and panethnicity
began to proliferate, and entailed in this research was an examination of the
processes and circumstances which shape and inform identity construction, including
political context and action.
New Racial Thinking: The Meaning and Nature of Black, White, Asian Pacific
American, and Latin@ Identity

The contemporary literature on Blackness, whiteness, and panethnicity share
four fundamental tenets: (1) Race is not biological, and thus, the categories and
20
identities of Black, white, Latin@, and Asian Pacific American should not be treated
as discrete, objective, unquestioned entities, (2) racial identity is not simply an
individual, psychological identity, but is a collective social identity, (3) racial
identity is constructed via the confluence of economic, political, and social
processes, and (4) people’s choices about racial identity and meanings given to racial
identity are informed and constrained by social structure and local and national
politics. With these major tenets in mind, Blackness, whiteness, and panethnic
scholars have moved to deconstruct the identities of Black, white, Asian Pacific
American, and Latin@, which have come to assume such normalized stature in the
U.S.
African American/Black Identity
Blackness literature not only deconstructs Black identity, but in so doing,
challenges homogeneous views of Black identity. Diverse works on Blackness have
examined Black identity as it pertains to panethnicity, the experiences of Black
immigrants from the Caribbean, the usage of the one drop rule as a means for
intraracial solidarity, the political fight against AIDS, Black feminism, Black
masculinity, Black queers, Muslim Blacks, Biblical imagery within Black culture,
cultural representations of the Black body, racial differences among U.S., South
Africa, and Brazil, and the African diaspora’s response to European claims about
Blackness (Callahan, 2006; Cohen, 1999; Collins, 2000; Curtis, 2002; Davis, 2001;
Jackson, 2006; Johnson and Henderson, 2005; Marx, 1998; Murray, 2006; Wallace,
2002; Waters, 1999; Wright, 2004). All of these works exemplify the reality that
21
Black identity is multifaceted and multidimensional, shaped by institutional racism,
sexuality, gender, national boundaries, and religion.
Such works exemplify the challenges of defining Black identity in the post-
Civil Rights era – from the burgeoning Black middle class, to the continual influx of
Black immigrants from the Caribbean and Latin America, to the expanding political
and economic opportunities for Black women and Black gays, these changes in
material and discursive spaces have made the notion of a Black identity “in the
singular” seemingly unfeasible. On a pragmatic level, the challenge of defining
Black identity inherently complicates the processes of political organization and
mobilization in the Black community, as various political interests and ideologies
emerge from different segments of the Black community (Cohen, 1999; Collins,
2004). However, in spite of such rising intraracial fissures in the Black community,
the literature on Blackness also shows that a communal sense of Black identity
remains strong, in large part because continued shared racialization and experiences
with discrimination breeds an ideology of “linked fate” (Dawson, 1995). Moreover,
among non-Blacks, Blackness and Black identity remain relatively “unquestioned,”
reflective of the continuing power of the one drop rule, monoracialism, and the
consequent propensity to view Blacks as a homogeneous mass (Davis, 2001).
Whiteness and White Identity
Black identity literature’s concern with the socio-political and economic
forces which inform racial identity is also shared by the growing research on white
identity and whiteness. Whiteness literature explores the social and ideological
normalization of white identity vis-à-vis non – white identities, and the translation of
22
this normalization into political, economic, and social privileges (Glenn, 2002,
Lipsitz, 1998). Thus, work on whiteness counters liberal individualist, cultural, and
colorblind views of race by marking whiteness and highlighting institutionalized
“possessive investment in whiteness” (Fine, Weis, Pruitt, Burns, 2004; Lipsitz, 1998;
Sullivan, 2006; Yancey, 2004). Whiteness literature accomplishes this task through
extensive historical analyses which track the “invisible” ways in which white identity
has procured dominance through whites’ everyday actions and government policy.
Works in this area examine an array of topics including how Italian, Jewish, and
Polish Americans “became” white, and the relationship between citizenship and
whiteness (Glenn, 2002; Goldstein, 2006; Guglielmo, 2003; Roedegir, 2006).
Furthermore, works on white identity also acknowledge the importance of class and
gender to whiteness, investigating white working class racism as a means to reap the
benefits of white privilege, the effects of the white trash label, and the ways in which
white women experience and understand race (Frankenberg, 1993; Hartigan, 2005;
Jacobson, 1998; Nelson, 2001; Roediger, 2007; Wray, 2006).
While much of whiteness literature possesses a strong historical lens, it also
brings to light the contemporary relevance of white identity and white privilege. For
instance, in Roots Too, Jacobson (2006) argues that it has become fashionable for
whites to claim ethnic identities as part of a backlash against the Civil Rights
movement. Moreover, works on white privilege deconstruct current neo-
conservative attacks on affirmative action, Civil Rights laws, and welfare, which by
claiming to be colorblind, attempt to shroud an intense aversion to the interests of
people of color (Lipsitz, 1998). These works suggest that white identity is one which
23
inherently requires political organization and mobilization, albeit informal, even
unconscious, organization and mobilization, on the part of whites in order to create a
normative standard of whiteness in American culture and to institutionalize policies
which work to benefit whites.
Panethnicity: Asian American and Latin@ Identity
Increasingly, works on panethnicity, in particular those which examine Asian
Pacific American and Latin@ identity, add to the discourse on racial identity and its
political implications, moving race theory beyond the confines of the Black – white
binary. Much like the works on whiteness and Blackness, the literature on
panethnicity does not accept racial categorizations and racial identities such as
“Latin@” and “Asian American” as objective, immutable realities, but investigates
the processes by which disparate ethnic groups are agglomerated into one racial
group (Espiritu, 1994; Padilla, 1985). An integral component of these processes is
not only social construction, but politicization; that is, panethnicity emerges when
disparate ethnic groups experience common oppressive racialization by the state and
the white citizenry, consequently recognize the material importance of race, and then
organize around and on the basis of their linked fate (Blauner, 1972; Espiritu, 1994;
Saito, 1998).
The construction of panethnicity and associated political activity among
Asian Pacific Americans and Latin@s has been propelled by a wide range of
experiences with racialization, including backlash against Latin@ immigration,
portrayals of Asian nations as the “yellow peril,” skepticism regarding Latin@s and
Asian Pacific Americans’ citizenship, and rejection of the cultural “Latinization” of
24
U.S. society (Chang, 2002; Jones-Correa, 1998; Oboler, 1995; Oboler, 2006; Suarez-
Orozco and Paez, 2002). All of these experiences with racism and racialization have
alerted persons of various Latin@ and APA ethnicities to the social and political
realities of race in the U.S. which frequently marginalize and stigmatize all persons
perceived to be Latin@ or APA, as white America typically does not acknowledge
the ethnic diversity of these communities. As a result, diverse peoples within the
Latin@ and APA communities have coalesced and worked together as panethnic
racial groups to achieve particular political ends. There is a wide range of literature
which highlights these organization and mobilization processes, including research
on political activity in working-class Latin@ communities, the presence of Latinidad
among Mexican Americans and Puerto Ricans in Chicago, Latina women’s
involvement in building panethnic alliances through everyday activities, second
generation APAs’ strengthening of panethnicity, and the role of APA churches in
fostering panethnicity (Bedolla 2005; De Genova and Ramos-Zayas, 2003;
Purkayastha, 2005; Ricourt and Danta, 2002).
Yet just as Black identity literature highlights the plurality of voices in the
Black community, panethnicity literature recognizes the sustained and continuing
issue of intraracial heterogeneity, which complicates the notions of an Asian Pacific
American identity and Latin@ identity. Research on Asian Pacific American and
Latin@ identity has studied how the continual influx of immigrants,
transnationalism, internal class divisions, generational divisions, and ethnic
heterogeneity disrupts the construction of a panethnic/monoracial identity and
cohesive political organization/mobilization (Espiritu, 1994; Espiritu and Omi, 2001;
25
Itzigsohn and Carlos Dore, 2000; Padilla, 1985; Pardo, 1998). Furthermore, research
has increasingly acknowledged the importance of intersectionality, examining the
dynamics of gender, sexuality, and religion within these communities. For example,
various writings have investigated the diverse experiences of Latin@ Catholics and
Pentecostals, queer Latin@s, Asian Pacific American Christians, and Asian Pacific
American women (Badillo, 2006; Jeung, 2007; Rodriguez, 2003; Sanchez-Walsh
2003).
The Implications of Monoracialism
In summary, the literature on monoracial identities challenges the apparent
homogeneity of African American, white, Asian Pacific American, and Latin@
identities, by closely examining the historical, political, and economic forces which
lead to their construction. Such an examination clearly illustrates that these identities
and categories are not biological realities but social constructions. Furthermore, the
literature on monoracial identities and groups shows that processes of mobilization
and organization among the general populace have served to instigate, as well as
respond to, common racialization. That is, whites, through everyday actions and
organized political activity, have constructed a white identity of privilege while
simultaneously producing racist ideologies and engaging in racial discrimination
against non-whites. In turn, people of color, have constructed racial identities of
pride and engaged in informal and formal politics in order to resist oppressive
racialization. Yet these processes have reified the identities and categories of Black,
Asian Pacific American, and Latin@. Thus, the literature on these monoracial
groups presents somewhat of a paradox. On the one hand, it shows that racial
26
identities and categories that we typically perceive as static and discrete have not
always existed and in actuality, when deconstructed, exhibit fluidity. On the other
hand, the literature also highlights the ways in which white, Black, Asian Pacific
American, and Latin@ identities and categories have been reified and normalized in
daily life, politics, and academic studies. In fact, the very existence of these schools
of race literature and their relatively separate and distinctive nature further
exemplifies the dominant, assumptive nature of monoracial identities and
categorizations. In turn, persons who claim identities which depart from the
categories of African American/Black, Asian Pacific American, Latin@, and white,
become anomalies who may be questioned, ridiculed, and marginalized for rejecting
commonly accepted understandings of race.
Alternative, Challenges, or Additions to Monoracialism:
Biraciality and People of Color Identity

In their landmark work Racial Formations, Omi and Winant (1994, p.59)
assert “without a racial identity, one is in danger of having no identity.” I would
extend this statement further to contend that in spite of the complexities of Black,
Latin@, white, and APA identities highlighted by social science research, there is
still a commonsensical status accorded these identities. As a consequence, persons
who do not claim a Black, Latin@, white, or APA racial identity in particular face
the danger of having no identity in a society obsessed with monoracial boundaries.
Given the complications inherent in monoracial identities, I now move towards a
preliminary exploration of literature on biracial and people of color identity, identity
27
formations which further challenge monoracialism and the very meaning of racial
identity, in turn yielding significant political implications.
Biracial, Multiracial, and Mixed Race Identities:
The Cablinasian, the Census, and the Colorblind

Ever since Tiger Woods announced he was “Cablinasian,” popular and
intellectual discussions of mixed race identity have burgeoned (White, 1997). Yet
contrary to much of mixed race identity literature and discourse which characterizes
people of mixed race as part of a “new” generation, mixed race people have always
existed in the U.S. (Bost, 2005; Morning, 2003). Since the first contact between
whites, Blacks, Mexicans, and indigenous peoples in the U.S., there has been
intermixing, and many of these racially mixed families lived in anonymity or quietly
involved themselves in causes for racial justice such as abolitionism (Forbes, 1993;
Nash, 1999). And in fact, of course, everyone is racially mixed (Daniel, 2002).
However, until relatively recently the very issue of mixed race identity and mixed
race persons’ desire to identify and be identified in non-monoracial terms had not
received such a plethora of attention both in the academe and in popular media
(Winters and DeBose, 2003).
What then accounts for the “rise” of mixed race identity? An examination of
the literature does not reveal any one clear answer. Rather, the rise of mixed race
identity is due to a confluence of social, political, economic, and intellectual factors
in the Civil Rights and post-Civil Rights eras. First, the demise of anti -
miscegenation laws with Loving v. VA in 1967 meant that interracial marriages were
no longer illegal. Although the legalization of interracial marriages did not
28
automatically lead to a flood of interracial marriages, Loving is important for it
opened up new possibilities (Sollors, 2000). Second, the Civil Rights movement
further opened up both literal and symbolic areas of integration, such as colleges,
where whites and non-whites slowly, but increasingly began to engage in romantic
interracial relationships (Root, 1996; Root, 2003). Third, following legal
legitimization of interracial marriages and increasing integration, social approval of
interracial relationships and marriages grew
6
(Ferguson, 2004). Consequently, the
combination of the three factors discussed thus far has led to a substantial growth in
biracial births as the result of interracial unions
7
during the last three to four decades
(DaCosta, 2003).
Yet a biracial/multiracial baby boom is still not sufficient to explain why
calls for governmental, legal legitimation of mixed race identity have emerged.
Thus, we must turn to two political and intellectual factors, which are the fourth and
fifth factors which explain the rise of mixed race identity. Fourth, in the political
realm, we have witnessed an increase in the importance attached to racial/ethnic
designations as instrumental to public policy, which is rooted in Great Society and
Civil Rights legislation (Williams, 2003; Williams, 2006). For example, public,
governmental racial categorizations have been key in tracking the enforcement of
Civil Rights legislation, as well as Civil Rights violations (Omi and Winant, 1994).
Thus, racialized political groups have increasingly recognized governmental

6
In 1968 only 18% of whites responded positively to the Gallup Poll question “Do you approve of
marriage between Blacks and whites?” In contrast, 58% of Blacks responded affirmatively. In 2003,
80% of Blacks and 70% of whites responded positively to the question (Ferguson, 2004).
7
In 1970 460,000 births were the result of interracial unions. By 1990, this number had ballooned to
1.9 million. Some refer to this immense growth as the “biracial baby boom” (DaCosta, 2003).

29
legitimation of racial categories as tied to the group’s social status, public identity,
and access to resources (DaCosta, 2003; Espiritu and Omi, 2000; Williams, 2003).
This in part explains the mixed race identity movement’s focus on Census categories.
Fifth, race theorizing has changed, increasingly recognizing the fluid and socially
constructed nature of race. From social constructionism, to whiteness studies, to
postmodernism, to colorblind ideology, monoracialism, and the very meaning of
race, has been aggressively interrogated, yielding intellectual space to explore
deviations from monoracialism (Bonilla Silva, 2003; Ferrante and Brown, 1998;
Korgen, 1998; Spickard, 2003; Winant, 2001). In summary, it is these five events
and trends which have prepared the social stage for the emergence of mixed race
identity as a means for personal identification, as well as political mobilization and
organization.

30
The 2000 Census
The most significant and substantive manifestation of these widening social
spaces was the debate over the potential addition of a “multiracial” category to the
2000 Census, a debate which exemplifies biracialism/multiracialism’s relationship to
changes in the political landscape, political organization/mobilization, and resource
allocation. The addition was proposed by a coalition of mixed race identity
organizations, prominently headed by Project RACE (Reclassify All Children
Equally), whose leader was Susan Graham, a white woman with Black / white
biracial children (DaCosta, 2007; Williams, 2006). The multiracial category was
opposed by nearly every monoracial civil rights, political, and legal organization,
including the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People
(NAACP), the Mexican American Legal Defense Fund (MALDEF), and the
National Asian Pacific American Legal Consortium (NAPALC), which viewed “the
multiracial box as a wrecking ball aimed at affirmative action,” other race based
programs benefiting minority groups, and the overall fiscal health and survival of
communities of color (Espiritu and Omi, 2000; Wright, 1994, p.26). This animosity
was compounded by the political right’s, including the embattled Newt Gingrich’s,
support for a multiracial category, which was perceived as indicative of the right’s
quest to propagate a “beyond race” or colorblind ideology. After extensive debate,
the House Sub Committee decided in favor of multiple racial identification - thus, for
the first time respondents could mark more than one box for racial identification on
the 2000 Census (Grieco and Cassidy, 2001; Sundstrom, 2001; Williams, 2006;
Zack, 2001).
31
The Literature on Biracial and Multiracial Identity
The mobilization of biracial/multiracial identity and the subsequent
passionate debate over changing the 2000 Census categories was fundamentally
about the meaning of racial identity, the way that racial classifications should be
determined, and the role of each in the creation of public policy and institutional
practices. These political debates are reflected in the literature on mixed race
identity. In the tradition of monoracially oriented literature, research on biracial,
multiracial, and mixed race identity has called into question the processes by which
racial identities are constructed, but it has also ventured to question the very
legitimacy of monoracialism, as well as race in itself (Williams, 2006). However,
this literature has departed from the themes of monoracial literature in that it tends to
neglect the political context and implications of mixed race identity
The ever expanding research on mixed race identity retains one overarching
theme: mixed race identity is a complication of monoracialism. Yet the substantive
nature of this complication remains disputed. The dominant theoretical strain in the
literature argues that biracial/multiracial identity progressively challenges
monoracialism, and that in so doing, challenges the racist sensibilities and ideologies
upon which biologism was built. That is, it makes race more fluid, correctly
identifies people, and discourages racism (Root, 2003; Wright, 1994; Zack, 1994).
In their challenge of monoracialism, multiracialists of this strain have framed
biraciality/multiraciality as an issue of the individual, exemplified by activists’
emphasis on the “right” of a person to identify as biracial/multiracial and to be
recognized as biracial/multiracial by institutions (Root, 1994). Moreover, a focus on
32
biracial/multiracial children’s self-esteem is steeped in psychological concerns,
further indicating an individualistic understanding of biraciality/multiraciality
(Dalmadge, 2000; Frazier, 2003).
In contrast, a more recently emerging theoretical strain understands biracial
identity as dangerous quibbling over “who is white(r) and who is not white,” with a
simultaneous rejection and reliance on biologism, which yields the potential for
colorism (Spencer, 1997; Spencer, 2000; Spencer, 2006; Spickard, 2003; Texeira,
2003, p.33). Numerous researchers such as Spencer (2000) have pointed to South
Africa and Brazil as evidence that mixed race identity does little to dislodge white
supremacy and rather only creates finer racial strata. Moreover, in the mixed race
identity literature we find calls for the validation of an individual who identifies as
“half Black and half white,” but such identity constructions and discourse assume
that “Black” and “white” are discrete and objective entities, and hence, both
monoracialism and biologism are tacitly reified (Nakashima, 1996). Consequently,
this strain of the literature views assertions of mixed race identity as attempts to
procure more rights and privileges by distancing oneself from the socio-political and
economic confines of monoracial, non – white identities. Adherents to this
understanding point to the political right’s usage of colorblindness ideology and
concurrent co-opting of multiracial identity to dismantle civil rights laws, as
indications that the “new” multiracial identity and movement lacks commitment to
anti racist causes.

33
The Youthful Orientation of Biracial and Multiracial Identity
The ideologically and materially oriented debates about the validity and
consequences of biracial and multiracial identities are particularly significant for
young people, including college age students. In the 2000 Census, 4.2% of all youth
under age 18 were identified by more than one race and 2.4% of 18-24 year olds
identified themselves by more than one race (Cohn and Fears, 2001). Although these
are small percentages, it is notable that multiracially identified adults were
concentrated in the 18-24 year old age group.
As a consequence of their fluid racial experiences, university students have
become an important part of biracial and multiracial formations within U.S. society.
Perhaps the most significant example of the relevance of the mixed race identity
movement and college students is the case of Matt Kelley. While a student at
Wesleyan University in Connecticut, Kelley began Mavin, a magazine which
explores the mixed race experience (Davila, 2005). Mavin has since grown into a
full fledged non profit organization, with programs and publications ranging from
the Matchmaker Bone Marrow Program, to the Multiracial Child Resource
Handbook (Iwasaki, 2004; Smith, 2006). Although his is merely one case, Kelley is
an example of how organizing around race during one’s college years can translate
into continued organization around race in one’s post baccalaureate years. Examples
of mixed race student organizations in California include University of California
Berkeley’s MISC, Stanford University’s Half Asian People’s Association (HAPA),
University of California Santa Barbara’s Variations, University of California Santa
34
Cruz’s Students of Mixed heritage, University of California Irvine’s Shades
(Williams – Leon, 2003).
Changing Race: Implications of Biraciality and Multiraciality
The literature on mixed race identity, as well as the mobilization of mixed
race identity, irrespective of the disparate interpretations of mixed race identity
described above, exemplifies three significant social realities. First, in contrast to
conservatives who have heralded “the end of racism,” race in the post-Civil Rights
era still “matters.” That is, race is changing, rather than disappearing. Multiracial
organizations, while often arguing that race shouldn’t matter, also reify the
importance of race by seeking recognition. Second, racial identity is not simply an
individual matter of the psyche, but is also public, political, and structural in nature,
as shown through the battle over racial categories in the 2000 Census. Third,
perhaps more than any other time in U.S. history, the dominance of monoracial
identities is prone to attacks, fissures, disputes, and challenges which are propelled
by political organization and mobilization around alternative conceptualizations of
racial identity. Moreover, these processes are particularly significant for the youth of
America, reflecting multiraciality’s significance for persons coming of age in the
post-Civil Rights era.
More than Coalitions: Understanding “People of Color” Coalitions as an
Identity Formation

While the multiracial identity movement is a relatively new phenomenon that
challenges the way we think about race, multiracialists are certainly not the first
people to mobilize and disrupt conventional thinking about race. Thus, I now turn to
35
a discussion of another group of people – activists involved in people of color
coalitions – who have continually pushed racial identity boundaries by claiming that
African Americans, Latin@s, Asian Pacific Americans, and American Indians, by
virtue of their experiences with racism and global white supremacy, can be
commonly identified as “people of color.” Such a contention subverts the constraints
of the racial pentagon and monoracialism by suggesting that people and groups can
engage in layered, cross-racial identities that are rooted in shared racialization,
political interests, and political ideologies. In the following discussion, I deconstruct
people of color formations by first examining historical instances of coalition
building among people of color, as well as coalition theory, and then analyzing a
lesser studied topic – the possibility that a people of color identity may emerge from
political coalitions.
People of Color Coalitions in the 1960s and 1970s
While the mixed race identity movement is a post-Civil Rights phenomenon,
another compelling complication of monoracialism is people of color coalitions,
which in contrast, are very much rooted in the social movements of the sixties and
seventies. This is most evident in a historical examination of political coalitions.
While American history books often portray discrete racial groups solitarily acting in
their own political interests, coalition building among racial minority groups has
always occurred. For example, in 1966, Filipinos joined Mexican Americans in the
establishment of the United Farm Workers. Thus, while the California labor
movement is commonly characterized as a monoracially rooted movement headed by
36
Mexican Americans, it was in truth a movement with biracial origins and
participation (Saito, 1998).
People of color coalitions and the formation of a people of color identity have
also been particularly prominent among college students of color. Of great
importance is the Third World movement and its impact on college campuses,
particularly the watershed Third World Hunger Strikes at San Francisco State and
UC Berkeley in November of 1968 (Umemoto, 1989; Young, 2006). Led by the
Third World Liberation Front, a coalition of various racial minority groups, one of
the strikers’ specific aims was the creation of Ethnic Studies departments which
effectively moved away from Eurocentric curricula and hired faculty of color (Louie
and Omatsu, 2001). The strikes are perhaps the clearest example of efficacious
coalitions and mass coalition building between students of color during the Civil
Rights era. Furthermore, the strikes’ significance is bolstered by the nature of the
coalition building which characterized the TWLF. That is, the TWLF and ethnic
studies movements were not only cross racial but tied to specific organizations, as
well as larger national and international social justice concerns ranging from equality
in domestic education, to American imperialism abroad (Pulido, 2006).
Such compelling instances of coalition building among racial and ethnic
minority groups, compels one to ask, what motivates different racial groups to
identify with one another and move to coalesce into a single organization? In order
to begin to formulate an answer to the preceding question, it is helpful to briefly
delve into political coalition theory. Political coalitions may be defined as “groups
that have similar goals, desire similar outcomes, and are willing to pursue their
37
objectives in a collaborative and cooperative fashion. Coalitions may be loosely or
tightly organized, and cooperation may be tacit or explicit” (McClain and Stewart,
1995, p.126). This sort of “loose” definition, which can be interpreted and applied in
numerous ways, is reflective of the literature on coalitions, which yields no singular,
common definition of coalitions and coalition building. The lack of a common
definition is both methodologically and theoretically problematic, yet the two
dominant strains of coalition theory – shared interests and shared ideology – do
provide a ripe basis for an analysis of the motivations driving coalitions, whether
they are loosely or tightly organized, tacit or explicit. What is also evident about
coalitions is that they function as racial projects, as they organize, mobilize, and seek
a redistribution of resources along racial axes.
Shared interests coalition theory privileges interests over ideology as the
driving force for coalition construction, and it views coalitions as issue based, goal
oriented, temporary and transitory. Therefore, the successful creation of coalitions
depends less on shared belief systems and more on shared desires for specific
political outcomes (Carmichael and Hamilton, 1967). In their 1967 work Black
Power, Carmichael and Hamilton wrote of the potential for interracial coalitions,
presenting four necessary elements:
(1) Both parties must recognize their own respective self interests.
(2) Each party must believe it will benefit from the relationship.
(3) Each party must have independent power and decision making.
(4) Each party must recognize the common goals upon which the coalition is
built.

38
Those who believe that shared interests is the primary component of coalitions
perceive coalitions to be “short lived tactical compromises among self centered
groups” that are issue oriented and goal based (McClain and Stewart, 1995, p.127).
In contrast, those theorists who emphasize ideology view common beliefs as
instrumental in coalition building. That is, “pre-existing racial attitudes influence
one’s perception of racial issues and…these attitudes shape political actions”
(McClain and Stewart, 1995, p.127). Therefore, those groups that are most similar in
their belief systems will be likely to build coalitions with one another, although it
may not objectively be in their best self interest. Shared ideology theory further
suggests that coalitions can feasibly be long term political relationships utilized to
assert specific ideological claims to shape political systems and meanings.
People of Color: The Possibility of Identity
The literature on people of color thus emphasizes the processes and means by
which coalitions are utilized as political vehicles. However, I argue that people of
color formations also retain the capacity to further function as a racial identity. Little
research addresses people of color formations as identity, with the exception of
Laura Pulido’s work, which has investigated the development of people of color
identity within the environmental justice movement of the Southwest. Pulido (1998)
contends that there are three key stages involved in the construction of people of
color identity : (1) deciding who is and who is not a person of color, (2) identifying
common experiences shared by people of color, and (3) creating new meaning of
people of color identity. Pulido’s description of people of color identity is useful for
the project at hand, as it is imbued with racial formations theory and political
39
coalition theory. More specifically, as she deconstructs the manner in which
environmental justice advocates portrayed themselves as “people of color,” Pulido is
speaking of a racial formations process in which a new racial category is created in
order to represent a particular racialized experience, as well as to seek certain
resources. In this case, African Americans, Latin@s, Asian Pacific Americans, and
American Indians in the Southwest came to the conclusion that they shared common
racialization by way of environmental pollution of their communities. Furthermore,
they coalesced under a people of color identity in order to seek resources, such as
political power, to ensure environmentally health communities. Coalition building
was key in this process, and an examination of people of color identity seems to
clearly illustrate that shared interests and shared ideology are in fact, frequently
intertwined. That is, the groups involved in the environmental justice movement
shared a common ideology of anti-racism, as well as common interest of obtaining
environmentally healthy environments, both of which underpinned the formation of
their coalition.
Changing Race: Implications of People of Color Identity
In summary, I contend here that although relations between and among
minority groups have frequently been analyzed within a political coalition
framework, this is a limited approach which neglects more nuanced racial
formations, and specifically identity construction, of “people of color.” As Pulido’s
work suggests, people of color can become an actual identity, not simply a basis for
coalition building. That is, frequently, it is the “politics of prejudice” which compel
racial minorities to join forces with one another (Daniels, 1974). The common
40
racialization of non-whites
8
is reflected in lived experiences of subjugation, such as
restrictions on labor and job opportunities, housing, and political power (Saito,
1998). This experience of racialized subjugation leads to shared political interests
and shared ideologies of anti - racism and liberation steeped in “collective memory”
(Lipsitz, 1988). Consequently, non – whites organize together not simply around
specific political goals, but around racial identities which are similarly rooted in
experiences of racial oppression. In turn, persons and groups who identify as people
of color challenge the limits of monoracialism and the racial pentagon by presenting
a more complex view of race and suggesting that the experiences and identities of
African Americans, Latin@s, American Indians, and Asian Pacific Americans are
not separate and in truth, share common ground.
Theoretical Framework

Racial Formations Theory: Centering Race

The vast sociological literature on racial identity which has been reviewed
thus far illustrates the importance of investigating the fluid processes by which racial
identities are created and the processes by which social actors organize/mobilize
around racial identities. Moreover, this body of literature indicates that these
processes are fundamentally shaped by social, economic, and political forces,
including the state and social institutions. Building upon and departing from this
literature, I investigate the processes by which biracial identity and people of color

8
I am not suggesting here that all non-whites experience the same forms of racialization. As Pulido
(2002) notes, different minority racial groups have different experiences of racial oppression, and “all
people of color are not interchangeable” (p.4). However, I do assert that the history of race in the
U.S. is one which has demarcated a clear line between whites and non-whites, and that non-whites as
a whole, are broadly racialized together, so that all non-whites are subordinate to whites.
41
identity are constructed within the social institution of higher education, juxtaposed
against institutionalized identities, intersect with monoracial identities, and change
existing racial formations on campus. Yet I do not solely focus on the construction
of these identities. Instead in my study I center the processes by which students
mobilize and organize around these identities and how the institution responds. With
these foci, I assert that the formation/reformulation of racial identities and political
mobilization of racial identities are mutually constitutive processes which cannot be
studied separately. I broadly frame my research with the theory of racial formations.
Michael Omi and Howard Winant (1994) constructed racial formations
theory in response to the weaknesses inherent in race theories of biologism,
ethnicity, class, and nation. Omi and Winant (1994) argue that these theories fail to
treat race as a fundamental axis around which our social, political, and economic
lives turn. In an attempt to remedy such theoretical de-centering of race, Omi and
Winant (1994) define racial formations theory as
“the socio-historical process by which racial categories are created, inhabited,
transformed, and destroyed…racial formation is a series of historically
situated projects in which human bodies are represented and organized. A
racial project is simultaneously an interpretation, representation, or
explanation of racial dynamics, and an effort to redistribute resources along
particular racial lines” (p. 56).
With this definition, Omi and Winant present racial categories and identities as social
constructions which are debated and contested over time. Yet unlike neo-
conservatives, Omi and Winant do not use the socially constructed nature of race as a
premise for dismissing race’s significance in society (Bonilla Silva, 2006; Brown,
Carnoy, Currie, Duster, Oppenheimer, Schultz, Wellman, 2005; Lopez, 2007).
42
Instead, they assert that race serves as an important “marker” in society that
underlies ideological thinking about race, as well as movement “to redistribute
resources along particular racial lines.”
Omi and Winant go on to further stress the importance of race to American
political life and organization, explicitly highlighting the politicized nature of racial
identity and racial projects. They write,
Race is a constituent of the individual psyche and of relationships among
individuals; it is also an irreducible component of collective identities and
social structures. Race has been a key determinant of mass movements, state
policy, and even foreign policy in the U.S. Racial meaning systems are
contested and racial ideologies mobilized in political relationships (p.138).

With these comments, Omi and Winant present race as a primary social axis and
mode of social organization and contend that race, racial identity, and racialized
political interests inevitably shape the state, its actions and ideologies, as well as
mobilization, organization, and construction of ideologies amongst the citizenry
(McClain and Stewart, 2005). Hence, Omi and Winant illuminate how the
paradoxical fluidity and constancy of race informs the ways in which race, racial
identity, and racial meanings are negotiated among and between the state, social
institutions, and the general populace.
In this negotiation process, social movements can shape participants’
identities by offering a new identity or a reformulation of existing identities. Omi
and Winant (1994) term this process rearticulation:
Social movements create collective identity by offering their adherents a
different view of themselves and their world; different that is, from the
worldview and self concepts offered by the established social order. They do
this by the process of rearticulation, which produces new subjectivity by
43
making use of information and knowledge already present in the subject’s
mind (p.99).

Although racial formations primarily focuses on the role of the state and social
institutions in shaping racial dynamics within the U.S., the concept of rearticulation
clearly suggests that racial formations shapes and affects individuals’ experiences by
altering the way in which they view themselves. This process is evident when one
considers the activities of the Black Power, Chicano, and Asian American
movements, all of which encouraged their constituents to reject white society’s
imposition of identity (i.e., in the form of “Negro,” “Oriental,” etc.) and embrace
racial identities of empowerment (Espiritu, 1992; Joseph, 2006; Ogbar, 2005;
Segura, 2001).
Understanding Biracial Identity and People of Color as Racial
Formations

In this dissertation I frame biracial and people of color identity as racial
formations which reflect the increased salience of multiple, layered, non-monoracial,
intersectional, and often contradictory racial identities among students who have
come of age in a post- Civil Rights society. That is, students who identify as biracial
or as people of color are participating in the creation of a racial category and identity,
as well as inhabiting the category and identity. Furthermore, I argue that we can also
conceive of the organization and mobilization surrounding biracial and people of
color identity as racial projects. Drawing upon the contemporary mixed race identity
movement and the Third World movement of the sixties and early seventies, in the
following discussion I illuminate the ways in which the activities of these
movements’ constituents can be considered racial projects.
44
The current mixed race identity movement in the U.S., which famously
sought after the addition of a multiracial category to the 2000 Census, can indeed be
considered a racial project. That is, the mixed race identity movement interprets the
racial dynamics of the U.S. as fluctuating and progressively changing because of an
increase in interracial marriages and relationships which produce mixed race
offspring (Root, 2003; Zack, 2001). In turn, the mixed race identity movement
believes that there must be new forms of representation for mixed race people, the
prominent form of representation being the creation of governmental classifications
for mixed race people (Williams, 2006). While the primary concern of the
movement has thus been rooted in concerns for the self-esteem and psychological
health of mixed race people, the movement has also paired the creation of another
racial classification/category with aims to redistribute resources – for example,
mixed race activists have argued that mixed race people often have unique health
needs due to their mixed race background (Winters and DeBose, 2003). Moreover,
the mixed race identity movement is a racial project which fosters rearticulation, as
followers of the mixed race identity movement come to see themselves differently.
The mixed race identity fosters this new self conception in two ways: (1) by
conveying the message that mixed race persons have a right to identify with multiple
races and should not be forced to assume monoracial identities and (2) by framing
mixed race people as the vanguard of a new generation moving toward the
destruction of racism and race as we know it (Daniel, 1992; Nash, 1999; Root, 2001;
Zack, 2001).
45
While vastly less attention has been paid to people of color identity, it too,
can also be analyzed utilizing racial formations theory. The Third World Movement
(TWM) in the late sixties and early seventies can serve as a case in point. The
TWM, and the organizations involved in it, offered a new interpretation of racial
dynamics. This interpretation was global oriented, as it explicitly drew upon cultural
nationalist theories and linked the racial oppression of people of color within the
U.S. to the wrath of imperialism and colonialism permeating Asia, Africa, and Latin
America (Umemoto, 1989; Young, 2006). Moreover, the Third World Movement
sought to secure stronger political representation by bringing together various
minority groups to fight for particular causes, including withdrawal from Vietnam
and the implementation of affirmative action and ethnic studies within higher
education. Such political interests were pursued because they represented the self-
determination, autonomy, and sovereignty which the TWM viewed as essential to the
liberation of people of color (Louie and Omatsu, 2001). Working together to obtain
greater representation also signified to white society that minority groups were
willing to stand together in battles over race. In these battles people of color also
sought a redistribution of resources. For example, with their push for affirmative
action, ethnic studies programs, and an increase in the number of faculty of color on
college campuses TWM activists demanded that the resource of education be more
justly distributed to African American, Latin@, American Indian, and Asian Pacific
American communities. With such a racial project, people of color movements and
activists offered their participants access to rearticulation, an alternative way of
viewing themselves which countered controlling images put forth by white society.
46
The Third World Movement, for instance, conveyed to its participants that they
should not view themselves as separate minority groups victimized by racism
perpetrated by individual whites, but as people of color who shared common
experiences of racial oppression both within and outside the U.S., including the
cruelties of residential segregation and colonialism. That is, the TWM provided
African Americans, Latin@s, American Indians, and APAs with a way to view their
interests, place in the world, and fates as irrevocably linked.
While this dissertation is not a study of the multiracial identity movement
which has pursued the addition of a multiracial category to government forms, nor
the Third World movement of the sixties and seventies, it is in part, a study of how
movements such as these have shaped the experiences of university students. Hence,
given that we can understand the multiracial movement and Third World movement
as examples of racial formations and projects, it is appropriate to examine and
analyze biracial identity and people of color identity among students through the
same theoretical framework.
While biracial identity and people of color formations can both be
understood utilizing racial formations theory, there are compelling differences
between the two formations which illuminate the complexities of race in the post-
Civil Rights era. Based on the bodies of literature on mixed race and people of color
coalitions, I argue that the political ideologies and beliefs about race which have
shaped these two identity formations are vastly different and in turn, the political
organization/mobilization which takes place around these identities is disparate in its
nature and consequences. As exemplified through the debate over racial categories
47
in the 2000 Census, biracial identity formations have been driven by the notion that
racial identity is personal and individual, represents “accuracy” in racial
identification, fosters self esteem, and increases racial harmony (Root, 1996; Wright,
1994; Williams-Leon, 2003; Zack, 1993). In contrast to the biracial identity
construct, people of color formations have broadly grouped together different racial
minority groups on the premise that non-white groups share particular political
interests/ideologies due to common oppressive racialization, and that these
interests/ideologies can be more effectively supported via a coalitional identity and
corollary organizations (Carmichael and Hamilton, 1967; McClain and Stewart,
1995; Munoz and Henry, 1986; Rollins, 1986). Thus, in contrast to the current
trajectory of biracial identity, people of color formations are rooted in particular
political civil rights claims which explicitly recognize the lived importance of race,
seek to challenge white supremacy, counter institutional racism, and move towards a
redistribution of resources.
Given their differences, this study of biracial and people of color identity
ultimately helps to answer some of the pressing questions about race in the post-Civil
Rights era. Are we indeed becoming an increasingly racially mixed society in which
race will eventually no longer matter? Or are racial spaces simply narrowing, with
biracial identity representing another niche identity that only a few can claim? Or
are racial spaces widening, opening up room for persons and groups of different
races to come together? What compels different racial groups to build alliances in
the contemporary era? As the U.S. becomes increasingly “brown,” will racial
minorities coalesce or drift farther apart? In light of such compelling questions and
48
the disparate racial formations of biracial and people of color identity, and their
commonality as non-monoracial identities, I believe a study of the construction of
and political organization/mobilization around these identities on college campuses,
which have historically functioned as literal and symbolic sites for localized racial
projects, will contribute to an understanding of current and emerging racial
formations in American society.
The University Campus: A Site for the Socio – Political Production and
Contestation of Racial Identities

As illustrated by the many sociologists of race who illuminate the processes
of how racial identities are formulated, social institutions are a significant component
of these processes. As one such social institution, schools, from the earliest grades
through higher education, shape racial identity formations within the context of local
and national politics. Hence, schools have long been recognized as important social
institutions with structural capabilities: “..in modern societies education is a highly
developed institution. It has a network of rules creating public classifications of
persons and knowledge” (Meyer, 1977, p.55). Although sociology of education has
long neglected race in favor of class, it is clear that in U.S. society, “classifications of
persons” most certainly includes race. Consequently, schools possess the power “to
create, shape, and regulate social identities” and employ particular “institutional
norms and procedures…to maintain a racial order,” framing “how we see ourselves
and others in a racial hierarchy” (Ferguson, 2001, p.19). Thus, it is evident that
examining colleges and universities as sites for the production, contestation, and
negotiation of racial identities is an important sociological investigation, particularly
49
given the unique standing of institutions of higher education as flashpoints for
incipient political organization/mobilization around race.
At the Forefront: Colleges and Universities’ Involvement in the Racial
Politics of the Sixties and Seventies

During the sixties and early seventies, universities and colleges became
highly politicized social locales where the ideological and material racial concerns of
the time were debated and contested. In this era, the proliferation of racialized
protest manifested itself in volatile disputes between students and higher education
administrators. As social actors in these racialized movements, students actively
mobilized and asserted their racial and panethnic identities of African American,
Chican@/Latin@, Asian American, and American Indian, gathering around these
identities in the face of common racialization, drawing on these identities as means
for empowerment and arguing that these identities were deserving of recognition and
legitimation by institutions of higher education. African American, Chicano, and
Asian American college activists challenged the racialized hegemony of college
administrations, calling for an increase in the recruitment, enrollment, and retention
of racial minority students, greater numbers of faulty of color, culturally relevant and
non-Eurocentric curriculum, and funding for race/ethnic based academic and student
service programming (Garcia, 2001; Louie and Omatsu, 2001; McCarthy and
Crichlow, 1993). More specifically, Black student activists and their allies sought the
implementation of Black studies programs, Chican@s formed MEChA, and Asian
American students encouraged institutions of higher education to denounce the war
in Vietnam (Brown and Carson, 2005; Ngozi-Brown, 1997; Segura, 2001; Zia,
50
2001). Furthermore, students of color built coalitions and alliances, such as the
Third World Liberation Front (Omatsu, 1994; Umemoto, 1989).
Activist students explicitly connected their localized demands for resources
and representation on campus to broader notions of their racialized status as
oppressed Blacks, Chican@s, and Asian Americans, as well as to larger racial
projects occurring at the time, specifically the Civil Rights movement, cultural
nationalist movements, and the anti-war movement (Levine and Cureton, 1998).
For example, Black students were instrumental founders of the sit-in movement, and
SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee) and CORE (Congress of
Racial Equality) were actually founders of the New Left, although many associate
the New Left with white radicals (Boren, 2001; Long, 1970; Weaver and Weaver,
1969; Wood, 1974). Chican@ students also made their presence known far beyond
the confines of higher education, helping to establish La Raza Unida Party in
Southern Texas and spearheading the Chicano Moratorium in Los Angeles (Chavez,
2002; Navarro, 2000; Oropeza, 2005). The power of student activism and unrest on
university and college campuses during this era was so great that a March 1969
Gallup Poll “found that campus disorders replaced the Vietnam War as the primary
concern of Americans” (Altbach and Cohen, 1990; Weaver, 1969, p.1).
College students have thus long played an instrumental role in debates and
conflicts over race’s ideological and material significance, both on and off campus.
They have pushed institutions of higher education to recognize the salience and
legitimacy of Black, Chican@, and Asian Pacific American identities, and struggled
for the allocation of greater resources – educational opportunity, financial aid,
51
culturally affirming curriculum – to communities of color. The debates ignited by
students of color in the sixties and early seventies have only continued in the post-
Civil Rights era, as newer generations of activists have been confronted by an
invigorated neo-conservative movement, ready and willing to dismantle the
achievements of the Civil Rights and cultural nationalist movements.
The Post-Civil Rights Era: The Arrival of Colorblindness
In the post-Civil Rights era, students’ racial identities and institutional
responses to race remain pertinent issues of contestation and negotiation,
contextualized by the limited changes instituted by the movements of the sixties and
seventies. Continuing political dissension proliferates over the merits of affirmative
action, race/ethnic/cultural programming and services on campus, and ethnic studies
programs (Anderson, 2005; Kellough, 2006). Passionate, and often vicious, debates
are informed by both ideological and material concerns about the role of race in
higher education. Literature on race based policies and programming, from
affirmative action, to student services, to student organizations, is largely split into
two camps – one which condemns and/or laments this type of programming as
segregationist, and one which heralds these programs as an effective means by which
to integrate students of color into the larger institution.
Invigorated by the neo-conservatism of the Reagan era, writers such as
Dinish D’Souza and Arthur Schlesinger, have advocated for color blind ideology and
utilized colorblindness as a basis to criticize race and ethnic specific programming
on college campuses (D’Souza, 1995; Schlesinger, 1998). Schlesinger argues that
race and ethnic programming, services, and organizations on campuses lead to a
52
“cult of ethnicity” which “exaggerates differences, intensifies resentments and
antagonisms, drives ever deeper the awful wedges between races and nationalities.
The end game is self pity and self ghettoization… institutionalized separatism only
crystallizes racial differences and magnifies racial tensions” (1991, p.102 - 104). In
essence, neo-conservatives argue that there is no need for identification as African
American, Black, Chicano, Latina, Asian American, Indian, or Chinese American
and further argue that there is no need for political organization around race
(Connerly, 2002). This argument is based upon the premise that racial
differentiation is an illusion, America is a colorblind meritocracy, and minorities
should focus on integrating themselves into American society rather than “self
segregating” (D’Souza, 1996; Eastland, 1997; Lynch, 1991; Steven, 2005). In the
past decade, these arguments have produced tangible results, such as the passage of
Proposition 209 in California, which dismantled affirmative action, and the Supreme
Court’s ruling in Gratz v. Bollinger (2003) which found that University of
Michigan’s point system for incoming undergraduate students, in which extra points
were awarded for Black, Latin@, and Native American students, was too stringent
(Gurin, Lehman, Lewis, Dey, Hurtado, and Gurin, 2004).
In contrast to the alarmist claims of neo-conservatives who tag race based or
focused programming and organizations as segregationist, there is a wealth of
evidence which indicates that this sort of programming functions as an important
gateway to institutional integration, increases student participation in other campus
activities, serves as a social support system, increases interracial contact, and fosters
positive racial identity (Hurtado, Milem, Clayton-Pederson, and Allen, 1999). These
53
benefits reflect the reality that students of color often work at a deficit and continue
to face significant disadvantages in higher education, including poor academic
preparation for college, campus experiences with racism, and lower matriculation,
retention, and graduation rates (Feagin, 2001; McQuillan, 1998; Swail, et al, 2003).
Furthermore, exemplifying the politicization of racial identities, race based policies
and programming can also serve to heighten students’ sense of empowerment to
challenge the racialized policies of the university itself. As Rhoads (1998) shows in
his case studies of student activism at five campuses, racial/ethnic campus
organizations can function as instrumental tools for students’ political action.
Race Based Student Services: Products and Producers of Racial
Formations

The debate over the role of race in university policies and programming is
vast and wide ranging. Hence, in this dissertation, I have chosen one particular area
of higher education to analyze – race based student services (RBSS). Race based
student services were outgrowths of the cultural nationalist movements of the sixties
and early seventies but have received much less attention than affirmative action and
ethnic studies programs. Most education literature has focused on the ways in which
student services can more effectively address issues of race, instead of student
service offices which have specifically been designed to focus on racial issues (Chen
and Omatsu, 2006; Clement and Rickard, 1992; Gehring, 1998; Liang and Sedlacek,
2003; Pewewardy and Frey, 2002). In fact, so little attention has been paid to these
types of student services that much of my discussion here is based upon my own
observations, data, and analysis. Typically these student services may either be race
54
specific, such as “Office for Black Student Services,” or may be “race general,” such
as “Multicultural Center.” Today, race based student services are usually operated
under divisions of student affairs and offer an array of student support programs to
primarily minority students, including academic counseling and tutoring, cultural
programming, and community service opportunities (Jones, 2004; Watson, Terrell,
Wright, and Bonner II, 2002).
In light of the increasing diffusion of monoraciality among students and the
onslaught of colorblindness, which threatens all race related programming and
policies, the examination of these services is a potentially fruitful source of data for
several reasons. First, these services exist as manifestations of the limited victories
of the Third World/ethnic studies movements of the sixties and early seventies.
Thus, these student services, while claiming to be a “voice for students,” exist as
institutional responses to claims of racial identity, political power, and economic
resources. But because these services were initially created to counter discrimination
rather than to address changing racial demographics, and subsequent changes in
students’ racial identities - which is what in fact appears to be occurring in the post
Civil Rights, post cultural nationalist era - these services may now face compelling
challenges (Williams, 2003). Second, because these services exist as the institutions’
response to such racialized claims, they represent the legitimation,
institutionalization, and normalization of particular racial identities and political
discourses of race, which subsequently affect resource allocation. Third, in spite of
the legitimation of monoracialism or multiculturalism as yielded and manifested by
race based student services, these services in themselves have often only been tacitly
55
legitimated and institutionalized. That is, race based student services have often
occupied a symbolic and literal position of marginality vis-à-vis the larger
institution. Therefore, it is particularly salient to investigate the dynamic between
these services and students who are organizing/mobilizing around identities which
are often marginal and othered.
Generally, race based services are either constituted by three separate units
addressing the needs of African American/Black, Chican@/Latin@, and Asian
Pacific American students, or a single “multicultural” office. The race based
services consisting of the three separate units legitimate and institutionalize
monoracialism, reflecting its historical significance, and thus it is important to
examine how these services, as representatives for the larger institution, are
responding to non-monoracial identity formations and non-monoracially based
political organization/mobilization. More specifically, examining their interaction
with students of color organizations may reveal whether they are open to
institutionalized coalition building and constructing a cohesive non-white identity,
which could feasibly increase minorities’ power on campus, or whether these units
see themselves as having separate interests. Moreover, exploring the interaction
between services singularly targeting African American/Black, Chican@/Latin@, or
Asian Pacific American students, and biracial students may reveal the degree to
which monoracialism is being challenged institutionally or the degree to which the
institution, via services, is willing to legitimate biracial identity.
The nature of the race based services which have assumed the “multicultural”
moniker is complex, often dependent on the political climate of the university. I
56
contend that multicultural student services are shaped by one or more of the
following three socio-political undercurrents: (1) the larger multicultural movement
of the ‘80s and ‘90s (2) the attack on affirmative action and race based
programming/policy, which has forced services which previously operated under
monoracial minority labels to alter their names to the “race-neutral” multicultural
label, while still primarily targeting students of color, and/or (3) the increasing
proliferation of colorblind ideology which has compelled some universities to
dismantle services targeting specific racial minority groups in favor of agglomerating
the groups on the premise that difference should be downplayed. Hence,
multicultural student services are reflective of the changing racial terrain of the
university, and it is important to examine how students organizing around a “people
of color” identity, which can be understood as a more “militant” and “political”
identity, are interacting with services which have been shaped by political discourses
that de-emphasize or deny racial difference and focus on cultural issues rather than
racial oppression. It is further significant to examine the dynamic between students
collectively claiming biracial/multiracial identities, which have emerged and gained
strength on the heels of the multicultural movement, and multicultural student
services.
Student Organizing, Activism, and Race in the Post-Civil Rights Era
The debates over racialized policies, race based programming, and funding
for such programming indicate that racial identity and the politics which underlie and
circumscribe race identity are fundamentally at the heart of racialized discourse and
lived experience on the college campus. This debate is complicated by the social
57
reality that racial identities on campus have not stayed the same in the post-Civil
Rights era, and in turn, political organization/mobilization around race has changed
quite dramatically.
Since the sixties and early seventies, with the exceptions of the anti-apartheid
movement and pro-affirmative action activism, the college campus has been
relatively quiet (Astin, Keup, and Lindholm, 2002; Boren, 2001). A popular strain
of public discourse argues that this purported decline in activism is reflective of a
“me generation” made up of post Civil Rights students who prioritize individual
financial success and care little about larger social issues (Altbach and Cohen, 1990).
Yet such a cultural deficiency approach leaves out important context. The reality is
that the national stage for activism has changed because the country as a whole,
including college students, has moved to the Right politically, there is an absence of
national racialized social movements, competition in higher education has grown
immensely, and shifts in the economy have forced more students to work part-time
and now mean that even a college degree does not guarantee financial security
(Altbach, 1989; Altbach and Cohen, 1990; Omi and Winant, 1994). Furthermore, I
contend that perhaps activism has not declined as much as is commonly believed,
and that instead the context for and substantive nature of activism has changed, in
large part due to both the progress and failings of the racialized movements of the
sixties and seventies. In the following discussion I first argue that activism in the
post-Civil Rights era is not only local, but is also increasingly micro-oriented,
interest based, and temporally limited. Second, I contend that in this era clear,
cohesive ideologies that link the micro and macro for students of color appear to be
58
lacking, and the Right has aggressively filled this ideological vacuum with
meritocracy and colorblindness. Third, as a result of both the successes and failings
of the sixties and seventies racialized movements, students of color are increasingly
embracing multiple and intersectional identities around which micro-local activism
takes place and coalitions, particularly cross racial and interracial coalition building,
are much less likely to be constructed. Fourth, among students of color there appears
to be a sense of disengagement from the historic activism of their racial
communities, which I in part attribute to the continuing mis-education of youth of
color.
Student activism during the Civil Rights era was tied to national and
international racial projects, “emerge[d] out of dissatisfaction with a form of life,”
and sought to “establish a new form of life,” while in contrast student organization
around racial issues in the post-Civil Rights era tends to revolve around campus
specific issues, is interest and issue based, is temporally limited, and lacks
ideological cohesion (Crosseley, 2002). Students often tend to focus on quality of
life issues which directly affect their present lives (Altbach and Cohen, 1990). Thus,
for example, Chican@ students may protest the lack of funding for a Latin@
residence floor. This activism is in part built on the achievements of the movements
of the sixties and seventies (the Latin@ floor would likely not even exist today had it
not been for these movements), but this activism is different because in all likelihood
only Chican@s who are students at the campus in question are involved, the activism
is not linked to a broader social movement and instead focuses on a singular issue,
and the activism will dissipate once a satisfactory response is attained.
59
Furthermore, issues of interest to students of color run the gamut ranging
from affirmative action, to multicultural curricula, to faculty hiring practices, which
are very campus oriented issues and lack connection to a larger social movement
(Altbach, 1989; Rhoads, 1998). The case of multiculturalism in higher education,
around which there has been a plethora of student organizing, exemplifies the
interest based nature of current activism, as well as the dearth of binding ideology.
When deconstructed in its totality, multicultural activism lacks ideology because
there quite simply is no one clear definition of multicultural education (Bennett,
2001). Given the multiple interpretations and applications of multiculturalism, it is
no surprise that there is no overarching ideology shaping activism which claims
multicultural education as its cause. That it, a belief system cannot be constructed
when there is no agreement on what exactly constitutes and defines the activist
cause. Moreover, the fight for affirmative action is not grounded in wholesale
dissatisfaction with a “form of life,” but has come to reflect specific dissatisfaction
with the number of students of color in higher education (Witt, Chang, and Hakuta,
2003). Hence, the substantively nuanced nature of diffuse singular racial issues
makes the construction of a moral ideology difficult – it is certainly a much more
challenging task to frame affirmative action as a moral issue than it was for Civil
Rights activists to frame de jure segregation in higher education as a moral issue.
While liberal and Leftists have struggled to re-define themselves
ideologically in the post-Civil Rights era, the Right has been extremely successful
disseminating ideologies of colorblindness and meritocracy and this is reflected in an
overall trend of increasing conservatism among college students (Altbach and
60
Cohen, 1990; D’Souza, 1991; Gilmore, 2004). These ideologies have changed the
discourse around higher education issues, such as affirmative action, in key ways
9
.
First, merit becomes an assumed, discrete, objective entity of equality and fair
competition. That is, merit is not recognized as a hegemonic device utilized to
procure and maintain white privilege and it is not deconstructed. Second, in
response to colorblindness, affirmative action proponents have been coerced into
citing the “diversity is positive” argument when defending affirmative action, instead
of pointing to the fallacy of merit and the continuing legacy of white privilege and
institutional racism. Third, in the propagation of colorblindness, the Right has co-
opted the language of Civil Rights and distorted the ideology of Civil Rights,
ignoring the historical fact that “the Civil Rights movement regularly advocated race
conscious policies” (Witt, et al, 2003, p.16). The changes in the discourse on
affirmative action show that the Right has been successful in muddling the
ideological discourse around race, placing liberals and leftists on the defense, who
subsequently have struggled to create cohesive ideologies around racial justice,
equity, and equality. This in turn militates against vast, large scale, sustainable
activism amongst students of color.
Changes in the racialized ideological landscape have also been buttressed by
changes in material conditions and a corollary rise in the salience of and assertion of
intersectional identities. While the movements of the sixties and seventies opened up

9
Takagi’s Retreat From Race also gives an incisive analysis of the changing discourse of affirmative
action, particularly as it pertains to the controversy over caps on Asian American admissions in the
eighties. Takagi (1992, p.10) argues that conservatives and neo-conservatives used the Asian
Americans admissions controversy to encourage a “a subtle but important shift in affirmative action
policy away from racial preferences toward class preferences”

61
real and symbolic places where students of color could take pride in their racial
identities, the movements were largely patriarchal, heterosexist, and promoted “race
first” ideologies (Collins, 2000; Espiritu, 1997/2000; Garcia, 1997). Consequently,
other oppressions and identities revolving around gender, class, and sexuality were
deemed less important than racial issues and when people raised concerns about
these issues, they were frequently scolded for causing conflict within the movement
(Garcia, 1997). Yet today, intersectionality speaks to the lived reality of people of
color, a reality that can no longer be denied – race, gender, sexuality, class,
immigrant status, and other social phenomena intersect to shape people’s lives,
including their interaction with social institutions (i.e., schools) and identity
formations (Crenshaw, 1991). Amongst African Americans, the rise of the Black
middle and upper classes is beginning to yield a conservative bourgeoisie which
seeks to separate itself from the Black underclass (Armour, 2004). In the Asian
American community, historically war driven ethnic divisions continue to separate
Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese Americans. These ethnic divisions are
further compounded by the vast disparity between the wealthy and poor in the Asian
American community, which is the largest intraracial class disparity out of all racial
groups (Espiritu, 1997). These examples thus illustrate the power of dueling
identities to create internal divisions within a singular racial group, which can yield
numerous difficulties in successful organization and activism.
For students of color, the socio-economic progress of their communities,
ranging from the growing middle class, to increased political representation, has
62
resulted in the increased significance of intersectional identities
10
. Thus, the
consequence of rearticulation in the post-Civil Rights era has been a rise in
intraracial divisions instead of the formation of a relatively unifying consciousness
11

characteristic of the sixties and early seventies. The movements failed to holistically
address the social psychological needs of their constituents, and this in part
contributed to the demise of the movements and I argue, explains the plethora of
organizing around intersectional identities on the contemporary college campus
(Anzaldua, 1987). Today, other identities, such as non-white students’ ethnicity,
class status, sexual orientation, and gender identities are more salient and may
compete with their racial identities for primacy. Thus, the dilemma for student
activists is engaging in collective action around race when students’ other identity
communities may be in conflict with their racial communities and/or are competing
for the students’ time. The rising significance of intersectional identities is
substantiated in the simultaneous increase in student organizations of smaller and
smaller units, addressing very specific interests (Astin, 1993). For example,

10
I would like to make it clear here that I do not contend that intersectional identities in communities
of color have “emerged” in the post Civil Rights era. A great degree of heterogeneity has always
characterized communities of color. For example, women of color have always experienced racial
oppression in distinctive ways, from the rape of Black women during slavery, to Japanese American
women’s increased independence in the internment camps (Collins, 2000; Espiritu, 1997). Yet
intersectional identities during and prior to the Civil Rights movement tended to be subjugated to
racial identities, in large part due to the oppressive racialization of people of color. That is, in spite of
Black women’s unique experiences during slavery, it was clear that their enslavement was due to their
Blackness, not their gender. Thus, race became the forefront identity around which political
organization occurred.
11
I recognize that during the Civil Rights era, there were multiple communities and multiple
consciousnesses amongst people of color. Yet I contend that the oppressive material conditions (i.e.,
poverty and unemployment) of the time resulted in ideologies that at least on the surface temporally
glossed over intraracial differences in order to corral racial power and advance politically. Thus,
although there has never been one single Black, Chicano, or Asian American community or
consciousness, comparatively speaking, these racial communities, specifically the student activists of
these communities, were more unified in the Civil Rights era than in the contemporary era.

63
although MEChA is still a dominant force amongst Chican@/Latin@ students, these
students now possess many more options when choosing how to spend their
extracurricular time- student clubs and organizations for Chican@/Latin@ students
may range from a Latin@ business student association, to a Latin@ LGBT
(lesbian/gay/bisexual/transgender) club (Levine and Cureton, 1998). Moreover,
organizations like MEChA may be seen as “old school,” excessively militant,
radical, leftist, and ideological – characteristics which middle and upper class
Mexican Americans may not identify with and may in fact drive them away
12
.
But it is not only intraracial divisions which work against large scale activism
today, rather the increasing autonomous power of individual racial minority
communities and concurrent divisions between non-white communities mitigates the
potential for activism that draws upon coalitions. Rhoads (1998, p.231) points out
that “conception of the self and of others must form some kind of connection for
joint action to be possible.” But more and more it appears that Black, Chicano,
Asian American and American Indian students do not feel a deep connection with
one another, at least not enough to engage in activism on the level of the Civil Rights
or Third World Movement. When coalition building does occur it is usually based
on a specific interest and is a temporary relationship. This was evident in student
activism against Proposition 54 in California, which would have prevented state and
local governments from collecting race based demographic data. The nature of

12
This statement emerged from a conversation with Professor Maria Eva Valle of the University of
Redlands who discussed with me the problematics of the indigenista movement and ideology amongst
MEChA students at Arizona State University and other colleges and universities. With its intense and
militant nationalism, based in indigenismo, some MEChA units have dwindled in numbers because
many students feel alienated from its ideological tenets.
64
coalition building in response to Prop 54 was constituted by one time events, such as
information sessions and street protests. As a case of coalition building, the
organization and mobilization around Prop 54 was thus interest based, for it sought a
particular political outcome – the defeat of Proposition 54. This political outcome
was eventually attained and the coalition was not sustained – for example, no new
coalitional student organization was created (Literte, 2003). Furthermore, coalition
building with white students has also suffered in the post-Civil Rights era, primarily
because of the onslaught of neo-conservatism which has translated into rearticulation
of white identity into white victimhood, in which gains made by students of color are
seen as white students’ losses and white students believe that there is “a social cost to
being white” (Apple, 1999, p.36; Elias and Jones, 2002; Takagi, 1992).
Finally, for students of color there appears to be substantial disengagement
from their own collective racial histories and from the movements of the sixties and
seventies. College students today, non-white and white alike, appear to still retain
little knowledge about racialized social movements in the United States, and if they
are knowledgeable about racialized activism and their corollary movements, may
have difficulty discerning the linkages between past generation’s struggles and
salient issues for their own generation (Hickey and Hargis, 2002; Jewell, 1985).
This is in part rooted in the fact that compared to the sixties-seventies generation,
students of color today lack “collective memory” and have not witnessed “historical
moment” in which “a special convergence of historical forces and individual
experiences led to extraordinary social change” for people of color (Nakanishi,
2001). However, I also assert that students’ lack of knowledge about their own
65
histories is an indictment of primary and secondary schools, which still tend to
employ conservative or liberal forms of multicultural education. Thus, students
become quite familiar with Dr. King and Cesar Chavez but are not engaged in
education which allows them to critically analyze the structurally embeddedness of
race and the connections between the past and present (Delpit, 1992). This may
prevent students’ understanding of the importance of social activism and democratic
participation to the advancement of people of color.
Implications of Post-Civil Rights Student Activism for Biraciality and
People of Color Identity

Given the role universities have played in ideological and material disputes
surrounding racial identity, as well as the historically prominent role of students of
color coalitions in racialized political action, the youth orientation of the biracial
population, and the present proliferation of biracial/multiracial college student
organizations, universities are a ripe research locale for the investigation of non –
monoracial identity formations and mutually constitutive political
organization/mobilization (Louie and Omatsu, 2001; McCarthy and Crichlow, 1993).
Moreover, it is compelling to examine how students who identify as biracial or as
people of color are situated within current trends of post-Civil Rights student
activism. On the one hand, the post-Civil Rights terrain seems welcoming to non-
monoracial identities, as it is more diffuse and open to special interest racial projects.
On the other hand, the apathy, lack of nationally based racialized social movements,
and mis-education of students of color would appear to work against organizing and
66
mobilizing among not only biracial students and students of color, but also
traditionally identified students.
A New Perspective on Race
Thus far, I have tracked the development of theoretical thinking about race,
deconstructed the social construction of Black, white, Latin@, and Asian Pacific
American racial identities, analyzed the non-monoracial constructs of biracial
identity and people of color identity, presented racial formations as a viable theory
with which to analyze non-monoracial identities in the post-Civil Rights era, and set
the context for this study by examining higher education’s contemporary
involvement in issues of race. In blending together these various literatures and
concepts, I argue that increasing fluidity characterizes race, racial identities, and
racialized organization/mobilization in the post-Civil Rights era. Yet I also argue that
in spite of its changing nature and boundaries, race remains a constant in U.S. society
and social institutions. The concomitant fluidity and constancy of race is
exemplified by biracial identity and people of color identity, which challenge
traditional monoracial understandings of race but also represent the continuing
importance of race to people in their everyday lives and political activities.
Moreover, I contend that universities and their students are compelling subjects for
an analysis of racial fluidity, given universities’ historic involvement in some of the
great racial debates of U.S. history and students’ ongoing roles as activists and
challengers to the racial status quo. Given this focus, in the following discussion, I
move to more clearly articulate this dissertation’s contribution to the existing
research and literature on race and higher education.
67
Significance of Study and Contributions to the Literature

This dissertation makes several key contributions to the existing literature on
race and higher education, including the re-conceptualization and re-framing of the
relationship between racial formations and social institutions, as well as racial
identity, and more specifically, biracial and people of color identity.
This dissertation offers a different way of understanding the role of social
institutions within the racial formations process. Since the Civil Rights era,
education, in particular institutions of higher education, have become battlegrounds
consumed by contentious identity politics, cultural clashes, and sparring for
resources (McCarthy, Crichlow, Dimitriadis, and Dolby, 2005). The most intense
conflict has been over affirmative action and services and programs targeting racial
minority students (Guerrero, 2002; Gurin, Lehman, Lewis, Dey, Hurtado, and Gurin,
2004). Yet less attention has been paid to the role of educational institutions in
shaping and responding to racial identities and racialized political activity. The bulk
of literature also addresses how institutions affect students, instead of examining
students’ affect on institutions (Cabrera, Nora, Terenzini, Pascarella, and Hagedorn,
1999; Hurtado and Carter 1997; Pascarella and Terenzini, 2005). Moreover, absent
from the literature is a discussion of how different types of a particular institution
affect racial formations. For example, we know that schools matter in the process of
racial formations, but it is less clear how the public or private status of a university,
as well as history, resources, and population mold the racial formations occurring on
campus. This dissertation fills these gaps in the literature by studying 3 different
types of institutions of higher education – a UC, Cal State, and private university,
68
and by focusing on the processes whereby students’ racialized organization and
mobilization processes shapes the institution.
This dissertation also moves to broadly re-conceptualize racial identity as an
inherently political identity, and dismantles conventional thinking about biracial
identity and the concept of people of color. In keeping with my attention to the
inherently politicized nature of racial identity, my research departs from traditional
approaches to the study of college students’ identities which have most often
employed psychologically oriented developmental theories and corollary scales
13
and
ignored the importance of the politicization of identities, as well as their ties to
processes of organization and mobilization (Helms and Carter, 1999; Helms and
Parham, 1996; Phinney, 1992). Conventional theories developed to explain college
student identities and used as a basis for policies and programming have largely been
psychological and have ignored or minimized students of color experiences,
assuming that non-white identity formations play out within the institutional
environment in the same way as white students’ identities. Furthermore, these
identity theories have tended to assume discreteness to racial categories and

13
Based on racial identity development theory, racial identity development scales have been used to
measure and understand college students’ racial identities. Some of the most prominent racial identity
scales include the White Racial Identity Attitude Scale (WRIAS) (Helms and Carter, 1999), Black
Racial Identity Scale (RIAS-B) (Helms and Parham, 1996), and the Multigroup Ethnic Identity
Measure (MEIM) (Phinney, 1992). I argue that racial identity development theory and racial identity
development scales are problematic for several reasons. Development scales fail to deconstruct racial
identities, instead according discrete status to monoracial categorizations, rely on a Black – white
binary in measuring identity, are implicitly value laden, as they associate certain development stages
with particular values and worldviews (the term “development” in itself suggests that some people’s
racial identities are underdeveloped), are linear and frame identity as an individual variable, and are
one dimensional.

69
identities, often failing to consider the experiences of those students who identify as
more than one race.
I contend that we need to rethink these theories because they are not only
Eurocentric and based upon normative constructions of whiteness, they omit
historical, sociological, political, and spiritual dimensions of identity which are
crucial to the identities and experiences of biracial students and students of color on
the college campus. These problematic omissions result in two significant
weaknesses plaguing traditional college student identity theories: (1) excessive
emphasis on linearity and determinism, rooted in a reliance on “development”
models, which tend to imply that particular identity constructions are “ideal” or
“healthy” and (2) lack of attention to the socio-structural and institutional constraints
faced by students. Linearity, determinism, and value judgments made about identity
formations are exemplified in both the work of Erikson (1964), one of the most
commonly cited identity development theorists, and Marcia (1966). Erikson (1964,
p.42) describes identity as “the ability to experience one’s self as something that has
continuity and sameness, and to act accordingly.” Marcia’s work is reflective of
many identity development models, as he offers a “final” stage of identity termed
“identity achieved” which describes commitment to an identity after crisis. I argue
that if educational theorists and practitioners utilize the conceptualizations of
identities to attempt to understand students of color and biracial students’ identities
and to counteract adverse racialized experiences, they will fail miserably. Why?
Because the socio-historic reality of race in the U.S. is one in which non-white
identity and biracial identity has never been one of continuity and sameness, but of
70
conflict and multiplicity lived in the shadow of whiteness (Thompson and Fretz,
1991). Furthermore, non-white people’s history has also not been one of a singular
crisis followed by resolution, and in fact even in the post-Civil Rights era, people of
color as a community and as individuals face ongoing crises, from daily slights, such
as being passed by on the street as one attempts to hail a cab, to institutional
discrimination in the job market (Yetman, 1999). For students of color these
externally induced internal conflicts of identity do not end upon arrival to the college
campus, since institutions of higher education, despite progress, still are structured
around the majority white culture (Altbach and Lomotey, 1991).
Building upon my departures from traditional conceptualizations of students’
racial identities, I also seek to intervene in the literature on biracial and multiracial
identity, and offer an alternative way to view the experiences of biracial persons and
the social construction of biracial identity. The majority of research and literature
written about biraciality and multiraciality tends to focus on the experiences of
individuals and their struggles with understanding their experiences and identities in
a society dominated by monoracialism. This research and literature also exhibits the
propensity to draw moral conclusions about the biracial and multiracial experience,
often asserting that those who are biracial and multiracial are “special” and are
representative of a new generation which have helped to induce the demise of
racism. Moving away from these psychological and biographical constructs of
biracial identity, this dissertation offers a more complex and intricate view of the
experiences of biracial students and the formation of biracial identity. In particular,
this dissertation, while acknowledging and examining the salience of individual
71
biracial persons’ experience, also analyzes the ways in which biracial identity
formations are shaped and mediated by larger socio-political events and trends. For
instance, I highlight the ways in which biracial students’ self conceptions are shaped
by colorblind ideology. Furthermore, within the particular setting of education, I
examine the influence and impact of institutions of higher education, student
services, and student organizations on biracial identity formations. By doing so, I
move beyond a focus on biracial identity as an individual, psychological
phenomenon and frame the formation of biracial identity as a multifaceted, fluid
process shaped by historical beliefs about race, current politics, and the everyday
practices of social institutions.
In addition to the re-conceptualization of biracial identity, this dissertation
also offers a new way of perceiving and understanding the experiences of students of
color in particular, and people of color in general. As noted in my literature review,
the phrase and label people of color has traditionally been utilized in reference to
coalition building, yet I will move beyond such an approach, to framing people of
color as an identity formation. I argue that this reframing process is significant
because it employs an examination of minority to minority relations, which have
traditionally been neglected in research in favor of studying minority – majority
relations. However, exploring minority-minority relations (which must be done
without omitting the reality that minority – minority relations play out in a society
still politically dominated by whites) is greatly important given demographic
changes which are contributing to a burgeoning non-white population, including the
72
continuing influx of immigration from non-white countries and a slight rise in the
African American population (Mindiola, Flores-Niemann, and Rodriguez, 2002).
Yet while the limited research which focuses on minority-minority relations
overwhelmingly examines Black-Latin@ relations, I seek to explore mobilization
and organization which includes not only Blacks and Latin@s, but also Asian Pacific
Americans. While APAs are often left out of the picture, due to the perception of
APAs as model minorities and even pseudo-whites, they are important players in
minority-minority relations, given that they have historically experienced racial
discrimination similar to that experienced by Blacks and Latin@s (Martinelli and
Nagasawa, 1987; Omi and Takagi, 1991). Furthermore, APAs and Latin@s
increasingly share residential spaces and face similar socioeconomic issues related to
immigration (Park and Park, 1998; Saito, 1998). And Asian Pacific Americans and
African Americans have struggled to find common ground particularly in light of
well publicized conflicts between Korean merchants and Black customers in inner
city neighborhoods (Min, 1990; Park, 1996). Given the dynamic and complex
relations between and among African Americans, Latin@s, and Asian Pacific
Americans, it is clearly significant to investigate to what degree these different
minority groups relate to and identify with one another, as this determines whether
minority groups will organize/mobilize together against the white establishment or
whether they will solitarily act as interest groups, possibly reducing their political
power. Studying these dynamics within institutions of higher education is
furthermore compelling, as it provides insight into the ways in which young, college
educated people of color conceive of their relationships to one another. This
73
population is important, with its history of coalition building and potential political
power.
By re-conceptualizing racial identity formations and the role of institutions of
higher education in these formations, and by focusing on biracial identity and people
of color identity, this dissertation explores how identities inform one another, how
identities are formed relationally beyond a Black-white paradigm, and how identities
can be situational, layered, and contradictory.
Research Design and Methodology

This dissertation utilizes qualitative methods in order to answer my research
questions. Utilizing various qualitative techniques enables me to delve into the
multiple meanings of social processes, as well as how people interpret and create
meaning out of their experiences within these processes (Denzin and Lincoln, 1998;
Marcus and Fisher, 1986). My research was carried out at 3 universities in
California – a University of California, private, and California State University
institution. Throughout this dissertation, I refer to these institutions as Western
University (WU), California University (CU), and Bay University (BU),
respectively. Methods used to collect data included: (1) in-depth semi structured
interviews, (2) group interviews, and (3) archival collection and (4) informal
observation. In depth semi-structured interviews functioned as my main source of
data, while the other methods assume supplementary roles. Data was be managed
and analyzed in accordance with Huberman and Miles’ (1998) model
14
. In the

14
What to Store, Retrieve From, and Retain (Huberman and Miles, 1998)
1. Raw material: field notes, tapes, site documents
74
following sections, I discuss the role of each particular method in my research, as
well as the characteristics of the chosen university sites and the limitations of this
study.
Research Sites

I carried out my research at three four year universities in California –
Western University, California University, and Bay University – from 2005 to 2007.
These universities were chosen for several reasons. First, all three universities retain
student service units which are either explicitly or implicitly race based and were
created to better manage and serve the needs of students of color. Western
University houses the Center for Academic Achievement, which is termed a
multiracial program that targets “disadvantaged” students, including students of
color. California University retains three separate race based student service units –
African American/Black Student Services (ABSS), Chican@ Student Services
(CSS), and the Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services (CAPASS).
Finally an office named Multicultural Student Affairs (MSA) can be found on Bay
University’s campus. Second, on two of these campuses there are a plethora of
student clubs which specifically organize around racial identities and are often times

2. Partially processed data: write ups, transcriptions, including initial and “commented on”
versions
3. Coded data: write ups with specific codes attached
4. The coding scheme: in successive iterations
5. Memos or other analytic material: the researcher’s reflection on the conceptual meaning of
the data
6. Search and retrieval records: coded chunks or data segments looked for during analysis, the
retrieved material, and records of links made between segments
7. Data displays: matrices, charts, or networks used to display retrieved information in
compressed format
8. Analysis episodes: documentation of step by step assembly of displays and analytic texts
9. Report text: successive drafts of design, methods, and findings
10. General chronological log: data collection and analysis
11. Index of all material
75
closely allied with the student service units enumerated above. In particular,
Western University and California University have student run organizations
revolving around biraciality and people of color coalitions. Although Bay University
does not have similar organizations, it was chosen to be part of this study to observe
the dynamics of a campus which lacks students who are mobilizing biracial and
student of color identities. Third, studying different types of institutions provided
richer data for my study. I was able to compare a (1) UC, which no longer employs
affirmative action in the admissions process and has been forced to re-label race
based programming with race-neutral terms, such as multicultural and multiracial,
with a (2) CSU, which has also been affected by the assault on affirmative action, but
to a lesser degree, and which has a more diverse student population both class-wise
and racially, and with a (3) private school which has less diversity, but more latitude
to continue implementing race based programming.
The following constitute the racial demographics of each university
according to Fall 2006 enrollment statistics
15
collected by each university:
California University
African American 6%
Latin@ / Hispanic 13%
Native American / Pacific Islander 2%
Asian 21%
Caucasian 47%
International (student visa holders) 9%
Not indicated 2%
Total undergraduate student population 17,000

15
In order to maintain consistency of data, I have replicated here the racial and ethnic terms used by
each university in their collection of student data.
76
Western University
Black-Non-Hispanic 3%
American Indian or Alaskan Native >1%
Asian or Pacific Islander 39%
Hispanic 15%
White-Non-Hispanic 35%
Unstated, Unknown, Other 5%
Foreign 4%

Total undergraduate student population 25,000
Bay University
African American 31%
American Indian 0.5%
Asian 6%
Filipino/Pacific Islander 4%
Hispanic 40%
White 18%

Total student population 12,068
From these enrollment statistics it is clear that the racial demographics of Bay
University are dissimilar from those of California University and Western
University. Yet Bay University was chosen for this study precisely because of its
unique demographics which include a substantial number of African American and
Latin@ students, who make up more than 70% of the total student population. In
particular, I sought to investigate whether such a campus would be more likely to
yield a people of color identity formation among students.
In Depth Interviews

At each university, in depth interviews (N = 90) were conducted with both
student services staff/administrators and students. Snowball sampling was utilized to
procure interviews. Interviews were instrumental for this study because they
77
illuminated and “stress the socially constructed nature of reality” which is produced
in the racialized lives of students and the institution of the university (Denzin and
Lincoln, 1998, p.8).
In Depth Interviews: Student Service Administrators

At each university site I interviewed the administrators and staff of each race
based student service unit. At Western University I interviewed high ranking
administrators in the Center for Academic Achievement (CAA). Because CAA is
primarily an academic program, I also interviewed a variety of counselors. At
California University, I interviewed directors and assistant directors of African
American/Black Student Services, the Center for Asian Pacific American Student
Services, and Chicano/a Student Services. I also interviewed some student staff.
Finally, at Bay University I interviewed the director of Multicultural Student Affairs
(MSA). Furthermore, I interviewed MSA’s four paraprofessional student staff.
Each of these student staff members is responsible for programming focusing on one
of the following racial/ethnic groups: African Americans, Latin@s, Asian
Americans, and Middle Eastern and Muslims.
Student service administrators were recruited for participation in one of two
ways: (1) via personal contacts or (2) via a recruitment letter, e-mail, or and phone
call. Upon agreement to an interview, the interview was scheduled at the
participant’s earliest convenience in a confidential location. Interviews were
conducted with informed consent lasted approximately an hour and 15 minutes.
Interviews were tape recorded and then transcribed.
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Student service staff and administrators were asked a series of open ended
questions regarding their position and duties, the role of student services in
influencing racial dynamics on campus, perception of the larger university’s
response to issues of race, and observations about the (un)importance of race in
students’ lives.
Interviews with student service administrators and staff were of particular
importance because they were able to relay accounts of the universities’ struggles
with race in both historical and contemporary eras. That is, student services
administrators provided an account of how, from the institution’s perspective, the
student population has changed over time, both demographically and in terms of
racial identity. Furthermore, student administrators were also able to tell me how the
institutions have responded to issues of race among the student population. For
example, interviews allowed me to explore how Asian Pacific American student
service units perceive and understand Hapa students and if APA student services
respond to Hapa students i.e., through incorporation in programming. This sort of
institutional memory and history of racialized changes among students cannot be
gleaned from students themselves who are temporally limited in their memory.
In Depth Interviews: Students

At each university site I conducted in depth interviews with students of
varying racial identities and varying levels of participation in race based student
services and racialized student organizations. Student participants were recruited in
a variety of ways: (1) through student service staff/administrators, (2) through other
students, (3) through student organizations, and (4) through open recruitment (i.e.,
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posted flyers) Interview processes and protocol mirrored that which was utilized with
administrators.
Given the qualitative nature of this research, and my concern with
investigating of the multifaceted processes of racial identity, it was not desirable or
possible for me to create a detailed categorical matrix of potential student
interviewees. However, because a primary goal of this research is to illuminate
different identity formations, I attempted to interview a diverse range of students
who could provide the insight necessary to comprehensively answer my research
questions. Thus, at each university I interviewed students who asserted monoracial
identities, biracial identity, people of color identity, or any combination of these
identities. Furthermore, at each campus I also attained a diverse sample with respect
to organization around racial identity by interviewing students who did not
participate in either student services or student organizations, students who were
student organization participants, and students who were participants in student
services. Interviewing students of monoracial identity, biracial, and people of color
identity formations was key to this study because I was then able to gain an
understanding of how monoracial identities are constructed and still persist on the
college campus among students, as well as how biracialism and people of color
coalitions are acted out on campus. Moreover, I was able to explore ways in which
students may exhibit and adopt more multifaceted, “layered” identities which are not
comprehensively accounted for in the racial pentagon. That is, a student may
identify politically as a Chicana, ethnically as a Mexican American, and dis-identify
with the panethnic identity of Latina. Furthermore, interviews with students who are
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participants/non-participants in race based student services and / or racialized
organizations allowed me to investigate (1) how students relate to institutionalized
racial identities, as reflected in race based student services, and (2) how students
organize around racial identities, in particular biraciality and people of color identity.
In my interviews with students my goal was to provide a space in which students
were able to tell their own stories of their lived experiences with race on the college
campus. Hence, a series of open ended questions was asked about students’ racial
identity, racialized experiences on campus, and perceptions of and participation in
race based student services and organizations.
Group Interviews (Focus Groups)

At each university, at least two group interviews with 5 to 10 students were
conducted. Group interviews were conducted with students who participated in race
based student services or non-monoracial student organizations. Potential group
interviewees were recruited through student service directors and student leaders
who provided me with contacts. Group interview processes and protocols followed
that utilized with administrators and individual students.
I chose to include group interviews because they possess significant
advantages, as they are “inexpensive, data rich, flexible, stimulating to respondents,
recall aiding, and cumulative and elaborative, over and above individual responses”
(Fontana and Frey, 1998, p.55). Furthermore, group interviews often helped lead me
to key informants who I had not already interviewed, or led me to new issues which
had not already arisen in individual interviews. The most significant benefit I
attained from group interviews was insight into how students conceive, construct,
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and negotiate identity, whether monoracial or non-monoracial, among themselves,
how identity becomes a basis for participation in race based student services or
organizations, how collective racial identities employed by race based student
services and student organizations and individual identities of students inform one
another, and how students come to understand the meaning of their collective
identity in relation to the institution.
Informal Observation

While interviews constituted the primary method of data collection for my
study, I believe that informal observation provided salient, if small, amounts of
additional data
16
. Informal observation was conducted throughout the duration of
my study, and occurred at various times during data collection on campus, from my
initial assessments of student socializing and peer group formations during the lunch
hour, to observation of the physical environment of student service offices.
Observation provided another means to enhance my data collection, for it is
“fundamentally naturalistic in essence” and allowed me to observe, unbound by

16
In previous research on race based student services’ interaction with biracial students, I found
informal observation to be a significant source of information. In the process of observation, I often
absorbed information and interactions which seemed insignificant at the time, but in the end analysis
became very important. For example, while waiting for a Black student services director one
afternoon, I listened to a conversation between the office secretary and a student about the student’s
vacation home. In this conversation, the student told the secretary about the soul food cooked for
dinner one night at home. From this point on, the secretary and student had a detailed discussion
about how to cook collard greens. As my research proceeded it became clear that small events and
interactions, such as a conversation about soul food, contributed to students’ of color belief that the
race based service offices provided “a home away from home,” where their cultural values and
practices were normatively affirmed. In contrast, I also discovered that these same small events and
interactions often held different meaning for biracial students. One biracial student of Black and
Latin@ heritage, was uncomfortable in the Black student services office because she was unfamiliar
with African American cultural practices – previous to her arrival on campus, she had no idea what
soul food was, and she hence felt negatively judged by Black students. Thus, observation allowed me
greater insight into the daily workings of race based student service offices and the ways in which
monoracial and biracial students interpreted the processes and events associated with the offices.

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“categories of measurement or response,” events and interactions infused with
meaning by participants (Adler and Adler, 1998, p.81). Data attained from informal
observation yielded contextual information to paint a fuller, more accurate picture of
the campus sites. After engaging in informal observation, I immediately typed
extensive field notes which were late analyzed.
Archival Collection

My final data collection method consisted of archival research. Archival
research involved collection of information on race based student service offices,
such as brochures which describe program philosophies and program activities.
When possible I collected internal documents from the offices, such as program
evaluations and historical documentation of student activities associated with the
offices. External documents included newspaper and magazine articles about
programming. I also attempted to collect similarly pertinent documents from
racialized student organizations. Moreover, I tracked coverage of racial issues in
campus newspapers, both formal and underground newspapers. Archival data has
the potential to be rich “because the information may differ from and may not be
available in spoken form, and because texts endure and thus give historical insight”
(Hodder, 1998, p.111). Consequently, as with informal observation, archival
collection provided me with salient supplemental data, which allowed me to better
depict the institutional environment in which student services and students
themselves are acting. More specifically, it gave me a sense of how conditions on
campus have changed both materially and ideologically with respect to race.

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Research Limitations

Limitations of this research are primarily related to two key factors. First, the
relatively small sample size of research participants inhibits enhanced
generalizability. However, constructing generalizations is not the intent of this
study, rather it is to illuminate the subtleties and complexities of how racial
formations are lived by students and enacted by and within the institution; subtleties
and complexities which would largely be lost with quantitative research.
Second, my focus on California universities creates geographically driven
limitations. For example, a disproportionate number of mixed race persons claim
residency on the West coast – primarily California and Washington (Winters and
DeBose, 2003). Thus, issues of biracial and multiracial identity are probably more
salient for individuals and institutions on the West coast. Furthermore, the
substantial population of Latin@s, APAs, and Blacks in California may make the
state a more viable state for non – white panraciality. However, limitations in time
and funding prevent the expansion of my study to other geographic locations, and I
contend that although my study is confined to California it can still provide
substantive insight into the processes of racial formations which may also be
emerging in other areas of the country.
Organization of Chapters
This dissertation consists of three parts and a conclusion chapter. In Part I,
consisting of chapters 2-4, I provide the context for this study by presenting accounts
of each university’s historical and contemporary dealings with race. I furthermore
discuss race based student services at each institution and their involvement in
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shaping racial dynamics on campus. In these chapters, I argue that each institution
has propagated a racial project. More specifically, I contend that Western University
has put forth a racial project of colorblindness, California University, a project of
left-liberal multiculturalism, and Bay University, a project of liberal
multiculturalism. These racial projects shape the ways in which each institution
confronts and addresses issues of race. Moreover, these racial projects influence
race based student services at each university which consist of the Center for
Academic Achievement at WU, African American/Black Student Services,
Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific American Student
Services at CU, and Multicultural Student Affairs at BU. In particular, data
indicated that CU, as a consequence of colorblindness, has been crippled in its
responses to issue of race on campus, WU, as a result of its private status and left-
liberal multiculturalism, has been able to explicitly engage issues of race, and BU,
under the auspices of multiculturalism, deals with race in cultural and tangential
terms.
In Part II of this dissertation, consisting of chapters 5-6, I present data on
biracial identity formations at each campus. I first review and analyze the history of
multiraciality in the U.S., as well as the varying theoretical paradigms which have
sought to explain multiraciality. In Chapters 5-6 I examine the experiences of
students who identify as biracial, as well as students who organize and mobilize
around biracial identity. Moreover, I discuss the ways in which race based student
services shape and respond to biracial students. At California University and
Western University I found many students who identify as biracial. At both
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universities organizations existed which revolved around Hapa identity. Yet the
nature of these organizations were different – while the Hapa organization at WU
was largely social in nature, its counterpart at California University was decidedly
more socio-politically conscious. I attribute this difference to the varying
institutional contexts. The colorblindness of WU translates into little institutional
modeling whereby biracial students can learn about progressive racial politics and
developing critical consciousness. Furthermore, race based student services lack the
capability to respond to biracial formations on campus. In contrast, the left-liberal
multiculturalism of CU creates more of a racially open environment conducive to the
discourses and activities needed to create progressive biracial identity formations.
Yet race based student services at CU do not respond readily to biracially identified
students, as they are organized around monoracial identities and focus on monoracial
concerns. In turn, biracial students express feelings of marginality and double
consciousness.
In the final chapter of Part II I examine the notable absence of biracial
students at Bay University. I contend that their absence is a consequence of the
university’s predominantly Black, Latin@, and working class populations. In
particular the one drop rule and the concept of mestizaje lessen the need for an
American oriented biracial identity, as the Black and Latin@ communities already
retain alternative concepts for explaining both biraciality and multiraciality.
Moreover, the working class population of Bay University largely comes from
segregated communities in which interracial relationships are not great in number.
Finally, a large component of BU’s working class population consists of returning
86
students who are from generations which are much less likely to engage in interracial
relationships and families.
In Part III of this dissertation, consisting of chapters 7-9, I examine the
presence of people of color identity formations on each campus. In Part III, I first
review the literature on people of color coalitions and identity, focusing on relations
among African Americans, Latin@s, and Asian Pacific Americans. In the following
chapters, I analyze the processes whereby students come to identify as people of
color, as well as organize and mobilize around the moniker of people of color.
Furthermore, I examine the extent to which race based student services are involved
in people of color formations. I argue in these chapters that threats to minority
students’ quality of education and resources is associated with the formation of
people of color coalitions and identity. In particular, people of color identity is very
strong at Western University, where minority students have felt threatened by the
dismantling of affirmative action, Proposition 209, and the continuing neo-
conservative bent of the current political climate. Yet because the institution is
officially colorblind, WU’s race based student services have been able to provide
very little in the way of support for students of color coalitions and identity
formations.
In contrast to Western University, people of color identity formations at
California University are much weaker, which is likely related to the political apathy
which permeates the campus, as well as the absence of pressing, immediate threats to
minority students’ interests and concerns. However, as a result of the left-liberal
multiculturalism propagated by CU, there is some people of color coalition building,
87
but it is generally not supported by the three race based student service units on
campus that tend to be focused on their respective racial communities on campus-
African Americans, Latin@s, and Asian Pacific Americans. Surprisingly, people of
color formations at Bay University are the weakest of the three universities. This
weakness appears to emanate from tensions, both off and on campus, between the
Black and Brown communities, and the working class obligations which pull
students away from campus politics. Unfortunately, while Multicultural Student
Affairs retains the capability to foster people of color formations, it has not been able
to overcome these obstacles.
Finally, in the conclusion of this dissertation I present a comparative analysis
of biracial identity and people of color identity at all three institutions. I conclude by
offering suggestions for future research on these topics, as well as practical
suggestions for how universities and race based student services might better meet
the needs of diverse student populations.
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Part 1: Institutional Histories
Understanding the Racial Dynamics of Three
Universities
Introduction
“You want the students to develop consciousness. You want them to be socially
conscious. You want them to know who they are. What are they about? Where
do they come from? You want them to be aware of other members in their
community. And then you also want them to be aware of other members in the
other students of color communities. And then ultimately you want them to be
aware of other students that are not students of color, and to also figure out how
to bring those students into the mix.”

- Nicolas
17
, Administrator, Chicano/a Student Services at California University
As an agent of an institution of higher education, Nicolas’s comments speak
to the power of universities to shape and respond to students’ racial identities. That
is, Nicolas possesses a particular view of the “type” of racial identity he wants his
Latin@ students to develop, one which entails a dynamic process that is not simply
about how a person conceives of herself/himself, but is also fundamentally shaped by
social context and surrounding individuals and groups. As a high ranking
administrator within Chicano/a Student Services, Nicolas retains the institutional
means to implement policies and programs that advance this view among students.
Consequently, given his position as a university administrator and his vision of racial
identity formations as intrinsically mediated by groups and institutions, we can
understand Nicolas’s statements as indicative of the power of institutions of higher
education and their agents to engage in and shape racial formations on the university
campus. More specifically, as a student service center providing academic, social

17
Pseudonyms have been used for all participants in this study in order to protect their identities.
89
and cultural support to Latin@ students, Chicano/a Student Services and its staff and
administrators, by their very nature center race, assert that racial identity is an
important matter, and seek to interpret, represent, and explain racial dynamics on
campus.
With the aim of illuminating the continuing, yet changing, power of race
within higher education, this dissertation examines the increasingly fluid ways in
which college students conceive of their racial identities, the ways students mobilize
around these emergent racial identities, and the ways institutions respond, or do not
respond, to such processes. Studying institutional responses to and treatment of race
is instrumental to understanding the workings of race in society, as institutions have
the potential to define and redefine racial boundaries, socialize people to a given
racial hierarchy, and function as gatekeepers to resources (Omi and Winant, 1994).
Interrogating universities’ participation in these processes is significant, as
institutions of higher education possess a great deal of power in U.S. society. They
are at the forefront of the affirmative action debate, provide access to the resource of
higher education, which can make a fundamental difference in a person’s present and
long-term socio-economic well-being, and consist of a social group – students – who
are at a unique stage in their lives where their identities, both racial and political, are
often in flux (Giroux and Giroux, 2006; Guerrero, 2002; Pascarella and Terenzini,
2005; Sadovnik, 2007; Watson, Terrell, and Wright, 2002).
Hence, it is clear that universities and colleges are active in the racial
formations process by producing and shaping racial identities, influencing the ways
in which race is represented and interpreted in larger society, and providing access to
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the resource of education, which all racial groups desire, yet continues to be
inequitably distributed. With a racial formations theoretical framework in place, the
purpose of Part I of this dissertation is to provide a portrait of the three universities
which are in part the subjects of this study. More specifically, my examination of
Western University (WU), California University (CU), and Bay University (BU),
illuminates the different racial formations and racial projects which may arise in
different institutional contexts.
In order to illustrate the strength of racial formations and racial projects at
each institution, I examine race based student services (RBSS), such as Chicano/a
Student Services, as a case in point. For purposes of this dissertation, I have created
my own description of race based student services. I have constructed this
description of race based services, rather than solely relying on the definitions
provided by the specific student service units which are the focus of this study,
because the student service units at Western University, California University, and
Bay University vary in their missions, organizational structure, and activities. For
example, RBSS at Western University primarily focus on the academic development
of underserved students with academic counseling, while RBSS at Bay University
largely carry out cultural events and programming, such as Black History Month
celebrations. However, in spite of the differing missions, organizational structure,
and activities of RBSS at CU, WU, and BU, I contend that they share several key
commonalities. More specifically, RBSS across the three institutions can be
described as student service programs, usually operated under the domain of student
affairs, which were established on the basis of the philosophies, interests, and
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activism of the Civil Rights, cultural nationalist, ethnic studies, and affirmative
action movements of the 1960s and early seventies. In broad terms, RBSS are
services which were originally formulated to attempt to address issues of race on
university campuses and to serve the needs of minority students. It should be noted
here that this conceptualization of RBSS is my own – while there has been a vast
array of research conducted on the topic of the significance of race to student affairs,
minimal research has been conducted on these specific types of student services.
18

Race based student services merit our attention and can teach us a great deal
about racial formations on university campuses for several key reasons. First, these
services are the result of historically significant racial projects, such as the Civil
Rights movement and the Asian American movement. Hence, examining the
services in their present form can provide insight into the contemporary
consequences of the racialized movements of the 1960s and 1970s. Second, as the
attack on affirmative action continues throughout the country, these services may
occupy an increasingly perilous position, as neo-conservatives balk at programming
which explicitly or implicitly appears to be based on race. A close study of these
services thus illuminates one of the many fronts of the affirmative action war, as well
as the ideological conflicts behind this war, namely that between colorblind
proponents and those who believe that race should be a factor in the formation of
policies and programming. Third, race based student services occupy a unique

18
The literature on student services is also oriented toward an audience of practitioners within the
field of education. Examples of such work include Diversity Issues in American Colleges and Universities:
Case Studies for Higher Education and Student Affairs Professionals (Flowers, 2004), Student Services: A
Handbook for the Profession (Komives, Woodard, and & Associates, 2003), and Critical Issues for
Student Affairs (Sandeen and Barr, 2006). As most research and writing on student affairs and
student services is dominated by educational theories and a quest for practical implications,
sociological analyses of student affairs and student services are lacking.
92
position on university campuses – they are purportedly advocates for students yet are
also agents of the institution. Concomitantly, RBSS are at the intersection of racial
formations among both students and the institution.
In the following chapters I highlight key racial projects at each institution,
which have been instrumental in determining the racial formations enacted by the
institutions, as well as the institutions’ treatment of issues of race and ultimately, the
institutions’ treatment of students of varying racial groups. In particular, I contend
that racial projects of colorblindness, left-liberal multiculturalism, and liberal
multiculturalism are currently dominating
19
Western University (WU), California
University (CU), and Bay University (BU) respectively. At WU, colorblindness as a
racial project arrived in the form of the UC Regents’ elimination of affirmative
action and Proposition 209, which in 1996 marked the end of affirmative action and
race based policy/programming at public universities in California (Gibbs and
Bankhead, 2001; Karabel, 1999). Colorblindness has hence permeated the WU
campus, crippling its capacity to address issues of race. To exemplify the dire
consequences of Prop 209, I examine its effects on WU’s form of race based
programming – the Center for Academic Achievement. In contrast, CU has escaped
much of the impact of Prop 209 due to its private status. In turn, CU has been able to
maintain adherence, albeit tacit, to a left-liberal multicultural racial project. The left-
liberal multicultural racial project is most clearly manifested in CU’s three race

19
When I state that these racial projects are “dominating” the named institutions, I am arguing that
these racial projects appear to have the most influence over how these institutions deal with race.
Thus, I am not including students in this assessment, as students may be dominated by different racial
projects. For example, while I contend that WU’s approach to race is currently shaped by
colorblindness, students generally profess a more liberal approach to race, which recognizes its
salience in public life.
93
based student service offices – African American/Black Student Services (AABSS),
Chicano/a Student Services (CSS), and the Center for Asian Pacific American
Student Services (CAPASS) – which by their nature support the left-liberal notion
that each racial group is distinct in its needs and nature. Finally, BU deploys a racial
project of liberal multiculturalism which rejects the colorblind contention that “we
are all the same,” yet also rejects left-liberal multiculturalism’s focus on difference,
instead choosing to emphasize the commonalities of various groups. This racial
project is put forth by BU’s Multicultural Student Affairs (MSA), which primarily
emphasizes a culturally oriented “food, dress, and dance” approach to issues of race.
The data and analyses presented in the following chapters sheds light on
important questions about the effects of race on universities and their students: What
has happened to the race based student services which were established during the
Civil Rights era? How has formal institutionalization shaped these services and their
students? How are the services and their students changing, both in material and
ideological terms? How has anti-affirmative action legislation affected their
philosophies and functions? Is there a vision for the future? Answering these
questions is significant, as they provide insight into the workings of racial formations
in the post-Civil Rights era within one particular socio-political context – that of
higher education. Furthermore, considering the answers to these questions provides
the context necessary for discussing the manner in which these three different
institutions are coping with changing racial identity boundaries among their students.
In order to answer such questions and illustrate how the three institutions in
this study take part in racial formations and racial projects, in the following chapters
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I (1) review the historical significance of the Civil Rights movement and cultural
nationalist movements, particularly in relation to higher education, (2) illuminate the
ways in which racial formations theory can be utilized to understand how issues of
race are dealt with by universities, and (3) provide an analysis of the historical and
contemporary racialized affairs of WU, CU, and BU. By deconstructing the racial
projects and racial formations active on each campus, I provide a portrait of varying
institutional contexts. In Part II and Part III, I proceed to analyze the ways in which
each institution, through the racial projects and racial formations in which it engages,
shapes the experiences of biracial students and students who identify as people of
color, and how these students in turn, shape their respective institutions.
Challenging the Racial Order: The Social Movements of the Sixties
and Early Seventies

“We must take adequate note of the fact that the two great problems [race and
the Vietnam War] that rive our colleges are precisely the same as those that
convulse our larger society—that, in significant ways, the difficulties of
running our universities are unfortunately similar to the difficulties of
running our nations and our cities” (Shoben, 1968, p.1).

Shoben’s comments speak to the importance of studying institutions of
higher education in relation to national-level social and political issues. While we
often like to think of colleges and universities as bastions of equality and
opportunity, the ivory towers are not immune from social conflicts, dissension, and
rebellion (Altbach, Berdahl, and Gumport, 2005; Ben-Porath, 2006). This became
an unavoidable truth in the sixties and seventies, as the calls for Civil Rights and
revolution migrated from the streets, to tree lined campuses (Gilbert, 2000;
Zagumny, 2001). In order to understand the larger socio-political significance of
95
universities, as well as race based student services, it is necessary to examine the
social movements which helped to create RBSS and have continued to shape RBSS’
ideologies and material interests well into the post-Civil Rights era.
These movements can be considered racial projects, in racial formations
parlance. A racial project can be defined as “simultaneously an interpretation,
representation, or explanation of racial dynamics, and an effort to redistribute
resources along particular racial lines” (Omi and Winant, 1995, p. 56). Clearly such
a definition applies to the Civil Rights, Black Power, Chicano, and Asian American
movements. The Black Power Movement, for instance, interpreted U.S. racial
dynamics in a very particular way – movement proponents, also known as Black
nationalists, viewed Black – white relations as fundamentally shaped by exploitative
colonizer – colonized dynamics (Blauner, 1969). Furthermore, the movement
advocated a redistribution of resources along racial lines by encouraging African
Americans to increase their economic power through business ownership, as well as
through the patronage of fellow Black businesses (Carmichael and Hamilton, 2002
[1967]).
Another key component of the Civil Rights, Black Power, Chicano, and
Asian American, Third World movements was the production of racial categories
and identities, a process fundamental to racial formations. Through the Black Power
Movement, the identities of Black, Afro-American, and African American emerged,
through the Chicano movement, the Chican@ identity was developed, and through
the Asian American movement, the Asian American identity as born (Joseph, 2006;
Oropeza, 2005; Louie and Omatsu, 2001). Just as these identities were being
96
produced, others were being rejected, such as Negro and Oriental. Such a process, in
racial formations terms, may also be considered rearticulation:
“Social movements create collective identity by offering their adherents a
different view of themselves and their world; different that is, from the
worldview and self concepts offered by the established social order. They do
this by the process of rearticulation, which produces new subjectivity by
making use of information and knowledge already present in the subject’s
mind” (Omi and Winant, 1994, p.99).

Rearticulation meant that people of color could view themselves in a new light,
shedding internalized self loathing and adopting identities of racial pride (Louie and
Omatsu, 2001). The simultaneous development and rejection of racial categories and
identities was significant, as these processes reflected the movements’ desires to
resituate minority people’s position on the American racial landscape.
Given the Civil Rights, Black Power and Black nationalist, Chicano, Asian
American, and Third World movements’ participation in significant racial
formations processes, which produced racial identities, sought a redistribution of
resources, and empowered people of color, in the following discussion, I illuminate
the importance and implications of the movements for higher education and college
students.
“All Men are Created Equal:” The Civil Rights Movement Challenges a
Nation

While racialized social movements, such as the abolitionist movement during
the era of slavery, were a part of the American racial terrain long before the Civil
Rights movement, the Civil Rights movement is widely considered a watershed
period in which the U.S.’ social, political, and legal systems were challenged to
enfranchise African Americans and other people of color (Jackson, 2006; Lawson,
97
Payne, and Patterson, 2006; Mayer, 2000). The Civil Rights movement fought
against the oppression of Jim Crow laws, which after the abolishment of slavery,
ensured that Black Americans would continue to be subjugated and controlled, while
white Americans were endowed with the power to protect the rewards and benefits
of whiteness (Klarman, 2006; Lipsitz, 1998; Williams, 2003; Woodward and
McFeely, 2001). Racial segregation in the employment sector, education, and public
facilities, “was the linchpin of Jim Crow, for it was an arrangement that set blacks
off from the rest of humanity and labeled them as an inferior race” (Morris, 2000,
p.518). This “arrangement” became hegemonic and pervasive not only because it
was institutionalized, but because whites of all socio-economic statuses, from poor
Southern whites, to aristocrat, “old money” whites, supported, perpetuated, and
enforced Jim Crow and its underlying framework of white supremacy (Bobo, 1997).
Consequently, Jim Crow entailed the protection of white supremacist ideology in
addition to the preservation of material interests, such as economic power (Gilmore,
1996; Shultz, 2006).
Given the ideological and material nature of Jim Crow, the Civil Rights
movement’s “overall objective became the destruction of the separate system of laws
under which black Americans lived, and the incorporation of black Americans into
Thomas Jefferson’s ‘All Men are Created Equal’” (McClain, p.472). Several
conditions allowed for Civil Rights activists to engage in mass mobilization designed
to achieve this objective, including Northern Blacks’ newfound political power, Cold
War politics in which the U.S.’ racism impeded the development of political power
and alliances with Third World countries, media proliferation that provided the
98
movement with a national stage, and the growth of Black institutions such as the
Church (Dudziak, 2002; Morris, 2000). Moreover, the flames of the early Civil
Rights movement were stoked by two key events – the Supreme Court’s historic
decision in 1954 with Brown v. Board of Education
20
and the murder of Emmett
Till
21
in 1955 (Hudson-Weems, 1998; Kluger, 2004; Whitfield, 1991). Both
incidents brought the plight of African Americans to the national stage in a way that
could not be ignored.
Mass non-violent action began to spread throughout the country as African
Americans and their allies took to the streets and the courts to fight for Civil Rights
(Morris, 2000). College students, both Black and white, played an instrumental role
in this activism, attempting to make their political voices heard in an increasingly
uncertain, seemingly unjust world (Michel, 2004; Williamson, 2003). Students
believed that “If…they [could] mobilize themselves to exert the coercive power
inherent in their numbers, they [would] have to be reckoned with as a political force.
Students [would] have to be consulted – and heeded on the issues that concerned
them” (Saltonstall, 1967, p.30). With such sentiments in mind, students played a

20
In Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (1954) the Supreme Court ruled that racial segregation
in public school facilities was illegal. This decision effectively overruled the doctrine of “separate but
equal” put forth by Plessy v. Ferguson (1896) (Patterson, 2002). In 2004, the 50
th
anniversary of
Brown, many intellectuals and activists lamented the lack of progress within the educational system,
noting that many school districts today are just as segregated today as they were fifty years ago
(Anderson and Byrne, 2004; Kozol, 2006; Ogletree, 2004; Zirkel, Lopez, and Brown, 2004). This
intense racial segregation is also class segregation and helps to explain the dearth of Latin@s and
African Americans within institutions of higher education. Furthermore, as I discuss in this chapter,
anti-affirmative action measures have further exacerbated the problem of matriculation and retention
of Latin@s and African Americans at the university level.
21
Emmett Till was a fourteen year old African American boy brutally murdered by two white men in
the Mississippi Delta for purportedly whistling at a white woman. Till’s killers were acquitted but
later publicly admitted to the crime. The murder garnered nation wide attention and mobilized masses
of African Americans, in large part because Till’s mother insisted on an open casket funeral for her
son and gave permission for Jet to publish images of Till’s badly mutilated body (Metress, 2002; Till
Mobley and Benson, 2004; Whitfield, 1991).
99
large role in the Birmingham movement, organized sit-ins at stores such as
Woolworth’s, and were leaders in the Freedom Summer of 1964, a campaign to
register Black voters in the South (Belfrage, 1990; McAdam, 1990; Proudfoot,
1990). Furthermore, students’ and young people’s involvement included the
ultimate sacrifice of death, as painfully exhibited by the murders of Andrew
Goodman, Michael Schwerner, and James Chaney in Mississippi
22
(Ball 2004; Cagin
and Dray, 2006).
From Pacifism to Power!: Youth and the Hope for Racial Revolution
Students’ participation in the Civil Rights movement created more cohesive
ties between the movement and college campuses and set the stage for the
development of more radical cultural nationalist and leftist movements of the late
1960s and early 1970s (Jacobs, Novak, Zelizer, 2003; McAdam 1990; Michel,
2004). Departing from the Civil Rights movement, the Black Power, Chicano, Asian
American, and Third World movements offered a different ideology to followers and
sought different ends (Joseph, 2006; Louie and Omatsu, 2001; Munoz, 2007;
Rosales, 1997; Van Deburg, 1993). Most significantly, the movements advocated
militant self-defense when necessary instead of Civil Rights oriented pacifism,
expressed a desire for community autonomy and empowerment rather than
integration, and questioned the degree to which whites could function as viable allies
and collaborators (Bloom, 1987). The cultural nationalist movements challenged
“the ideal of liberation as elimination of group difference,” and instead emphasized

22
Goodman, Schwerner, and Chaney were three young Civil Rights workers registering Black voters
in the South during the Freedom Summer of 1964. The three were murdered by KKK members (Ball
2004; Cagin and Dray, 2006).
100
liberation as achievable through social movements of “group specificity and cultural
pride” (Young, 1990, p.157). These emerging student led movements challenged
people’s thinking about student activism, which tended to be “in terms of the 1963-
64 civil rights movement” and unaware of students’ increasing fascination and
dedication to the philosophies and “writings of Frantz Fanon, Mao Tsetung, and Che
Guevara” (Levine, 1968, p.623). Moreover, the cultural nationalist movements
made higher education a priority in their activism. Dismayed with an academy
which was slow to change, students attacked racial oppression both within larger
U.S. society and the ivory towers of colleges and universities (Franklin, 2003;
Kibria, 2003; Willie and Cunnigen, 1981; Yamane, 2002).
Black Power and Black Nationalist Movements
Within the Civil Rights movement increasing internal conflicts were
oftentimes generationally oriented, with younger people growing disillusioned with
pacifism and expressing a desire for more direct action. For example, the Southern
Christian Leadership Conference and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating
Committee diverged in their ideological leanings, with the latter emphasizing
resistance and self-defense (King, 1992; Umoja, 1999). Furthermore, Black Power
and Black Nationalist groups began to flourish, in particular by tapping into the
disillusionment of Black youth in inner cities (Essien-Udom, 1995; Glaude, 2002;
Jeffries, 2006; Robinson, 2006). These groups offered American Blacks an
alternative way to identify themselves and view their socio-economic circumstances
(Joseph, 2006). Now, instead of “Negro,” one could identify as “Black,” “Afro-
American,” or “African American.” These new identities offered the power of self-
101
definition – no longer defined by whites, Blacks could fight to determine their own
destiny (Joseph, 2006; Ogbar, 2005).
With this identity as a basis, Black Power and Black Nationalist proponents
and followers pursued a more militant political agenda than Civil Rights activists.
Education was an important component of the militant Black agenda in two key
capacities. First, Black Power and Black nationalist proponents rooted their
ideologies in leftist intellectual thought. Black nationalists, one of the most
prominent being Ron Karenga
23
, the creator of Kwanzaa, pushed for the
establishment of Afrocentric oriented Black Studies programs at universities
throughout the U.S. (Bobo, Hudley, and Michel, 2004; Brown and Carson, 2005;
Joseph, 2003; Ngozi-Brown, 1997). Moreover, Black Power and Black nationalist
activists were also enamored with the theories and work of Karl Marx, Mao Zedung,
Vladimir Lenin, and Frantz Fanon (Dawahare, 2002; Dawson, 2003; Elbaum, 2002;
Fanon, 1994; Harris, 2001). Hence, Black militants viewed the intellectual education
of the African American community, and more specifically, the socialist and Marxist
education of African Americans, to be central to an empowered and autonomous
Black community (Watkins, 2006). In further accordance with this philosophy, in
order for African Americans to be free socially, economically, and politically, it was
believed that their minds must be free. The second way in which education was
important to the Black Power and Black nationalist movements pertained to the

23
Ron Karenga, also known as Maulana Karenga, established the US organization in 1965. US was a
Black Nationalist group which rivaled the Black Panthers. In 1977 Karenga created the holiday of
Kwanzaa, urging African Americans to embrace the seven principles of Kwanzaa, which emphasize
collective ideals such as cooperative economics. In 1989 Karenga became the chair of California
State University Long Beach’s Black Studies Department and remains a faculty member at CSULB to
this day (Brown and Carson, 2005).

102
leaders and rank and file of the movements. More specifically, college students and
the college educated played large roles in militant Black activism. Stokeley
Carmichael, for instance, first became involved with SNCC and CORE while a
Howard University student and later went on to lead the Black Panther Party
(Carmichael, 2005; Rich, 1965; Zinn, 2002). Furthermore, Black activists frequently
worked alongside student organizations, which included other racial groups, such as
Students for a Democratic Society
24
and the Brown Berets
25
(Brown, 1993; Escobar,
1993; Macias, 1977).
Beyond the realm of education, in which intellectual freedom and the
validation of the Black experience was sought, the achievement of economic, social,
and political autonomy and self sufficiency was pursued by Black Power and Black
nationalism adherents (Carmichael and Hamilton, 1992). The Black Panthers, for
example, created and implemented a free breakfast program for children and free
clinics throughout U.S. cities (Ogbar, 2005). The sentiment behind such programs
was that a white U.S. government had no vested interest in providing for the Black
community, and was in fact, antagonistic to the idea of helping Black communities
flourish. Thus, Black people could best determine and meet their own needs (Foner,
1995).

24
SDS was established in 1960 by students dissatisfied with the political state of the U.S., which they
felt did not adequately represent the interests of the citizenry. As part of the New Left, SDS was
involved in the Civil Rights movement, the Free Speech movement, and the anti-Vietnam movement
(Gilbert, 2002).
25
The Brown Berets were a Chicano group established in 1967. Modeled after the Black Panthers,
the Berets espoused an ideology of cultural nationalism. The Brown Berets were instrumental in
organizing the East L.A. Blowouts in 1968, as well as the Chicano Moratorium in 1970 (Pulido,
2006).
103
In spite of the movements’ focus on development of the Black community,
the movements in their later years found commonalities with other communities of
color. These commonalities included opposition to colonialism and imperialism in
the Third World and opposition to the war in Vietnam (Pulido, 2006). The Third
World Liberation Front, which I discuss further at a later point in this chapter,
reflected the power of such coalition building, which led to massive unrest at San
Francisco State and UC Berkeley, as students fought for their rights as Third World
peoples (Umemoto, 1989; Young, 2006).
The Chicano Movement
Within other racial communities similar fissures and militarism were also
growing. The Chicano Movement scorned the perceived weaknesses of the older
“Mexican American” identified generation. Emphasizing cultural nationalism and a
vision of Atzlan as a homeland, the use of the identity label “Chicano” was
significant and represented a distinction from “Mexican American,” indicating
cultural and racial pride and rejection of assimilation (Segura, 2001). The term
Chicano referred to Mexican American peoples with a strong sense of cultural pride
and heightened political and racial consciousness (Acuna, 2006; Noriega, Avila,
Davalos, Sandoval, and Perez-Torres, 2001).
The Chicano Movement consisted of several political interests, including
“issues such as farmworkers’ rights, land tenure, educational reform, political
representation, the war in Vietnam, and ‘police brutality.’” (Escobar, 1993, p.1485).
Chican@ students, such members of MEChA, spearheaded the movement, penning
104
El Plan Espiritual de Atzlan and El Plan de Santa Barbara. According to Segura
(2001, p.542),
El Plan Espiritual de Atzlan was primarily a call to arms by activists in the
movement to create a Chicano ‘homeland’ or Atzlan, whereas El Plan de
Santa Barbara sought to bring the study of people of Mexican heritage to the
halls of the academy in a way that benefited these communities. The
principle of self determination included asserting the term Chicano in much
the same way as African Americans reclaimed the term black.

Reflecting the plans’ desire for educational access and culturally conscious
education, Chicano students were instrumental in the formation of organizations,
such as the Mexican American Youth Organization (MAYO), which pushed
Southwest public schools to provide a higher quality education for Mexican
American students, including hiring of more Mexican American faculty (Navarro,
1995). At the higher education level, Chicano students mobilized and fought for
Chicano Studies programs at institutions throughout the nation. Moreover, students
helped to found National Association for Chicano Studies, which sought to advance
the discipline of Chicano Studies, as well as to increase opportunities for Chican@
faculty and students (Gutierrez, 1998; Munoz, 1989).
Students also expanded their activism beyond the educational realm,
becoming key players in the struggle for greater political representation. MAYO
activists, for example, were instrumental in the establishment of La Raza Unida
Party. La Raza Unida Party argued that Democrats had fallen short and failed to
help the Chicano community access much needed resources. Capitalizing on the
Democrats’ weaknesses, La Raza Unida won several local elections in Southern
Texas. Although La Raza Unida eventually lost its power and collapsed as the
105
Chicano activism slowed, it remains an important example of Chicano students’
power beyond education (Garcia, 1990; Navarro, 1995).
The Chicano Movement and its youth also played a large role in anti-
Vietnam activism, particularly in Southern California (Chavez, 2002; Oropeza,
2005). The largest protest by people of Mexican heritage was the Chicano
Moratorium, staged to protest “the disproportionately high numbers of Mexican
American casualties in the Vietnam War. Between twenty and thirty thousand
people marched down Whittier Boulevard” in East Los Angeles (Escobar, 1993,
p.1483). The protest exemplified student leadership in the movement, with Chican@
student leaders from local universities helping to spearhead the moratorium.
The Asian American Movement
Inspired by their Black and Chican@ counterparts, during the period
spanning the late sixties to the early seventies, Asian Americans mobilized, seeking
to gain political and economic power, while countering racial stereotypes propagated
by white society (Maeda, 2005). Following World War II, numerous demographic,
socio-economic, and political changes took place, setting the stage for the
construction of Asian American panethnicity. More and more persons of Asian
ancestry were born in the U.S. and this American born generation began to break
down the boundaries between the diverse Asian ethnic groups, which included
intermarrying with one another and integrating in residential neighborhoods
(Espiritu, 1992). As these boundaries deteriorated, there was increased contact
between Asian ethnic groups and this contact was greatest among college students.
These college students experienced a rise in racial / ethnic consciousness, as they
106
began to realize the significance of their non-white status in a majority white society
(Kibria, 2003; San Juan, 1993).
Just as the Black Power and Chicano Power movements entailed the
formation of new racial identities of racial empowerment and pride, the Asian
American movement produced the identity of “Asian American,” thus linking
together a range of ethnic groups, from Japanese Americans, to Vietnamese
Americans, who were quite different culturally, yet shared the common experience
of oppression at the hands of whites and white dominated institutions (Zia, 2001).
The new Asian American identity entailed an explicit rejection of the “Oriental”
label and “model minority” stereotype, viewing these terms as derogatory caricatures
which inaccurately portrayed the Asian American community as foreign, submissive,
and robotic-like, overachieving pseudo-whites (Aguilar San-Juan, 1993; Endo, 1990;
Lee, 2004). This rejection also reflected an expression of solidarity with African
Americans and Latin@s. Asian Americans not only rejected the model minority
image because it was an empirical misrepresentation of the community, but also
because they understood that the image was being utilized to demean African
Americans and Chican@s. That is, Asian Americans recognized that whites were
using the model minority stereotype to argue that racial minorities could indeed
succeed in the U.S. and that Blacks and Chican@s simply weren’t working hard
enough, particularly in contrast to Asian Americans (Lee, 2004).
The Asian American movement possessed political interests and ends similar
to those of the Black Power Movement and Chicano Movement, and college students
were key leaders in the movement. Asian American students, for example, worked
107
with Chican@, Black, and American Indian students at UC Berkeley and San
Francisco State to establish ethnic studies and Third World programs (Umemoto,
1989; Zia, 2001). Moreover, Asian American student activists mobilized and
organized their own Yellow Power Movement to advocate for Asian American
interests and concerns, such as the creation of Asian American Studies programs and
stopping U.S. military interventions in Vietnam and Cambodia (Louie and Omatsu,
2001). Coming together to discuss these issues, “In the summer of 1968, more than
one hundred students of diverse Asian backgrounds attended an ‘Are You Yellow?’
conference at UCLA to discuss the issues of Yellow Power, identity, and the war in
Vietnam” (Espiritu, 1992, p.20). Such organizing helped to reify the Asian
American identity and build “pan-Asian consciousness” (Espiritu, 1992, p.15).
Given their cultural, ethnic, and national ties to Asian countries, the Asian
American movement became increasingly agitated by U.S. military interventions in
Asian countries, the most prominent being Vietnam (Zia, 2001). Asian American
organizations staged numerous protests against the war in Vietnam, asking the
American people to consider “Why an Asian war?” Thus, the war was framed as not
only a conflict between nations, but as a racial conflict, in which the white
dominated U.S. was attempting to impose itself on Asian peoples (Louie and
Omatsu, 2001, p.).
The Third World Movement
Integrating components of the Black, Chicano, and Asian American
movements, the Third World Movement sought to promote political ideologies and
interests which embodied the concerns and needs of all three minority communities.
108
The Third World Movement helped to advance the idea that Third World peoples,
despite differences in skin color and national origin, shared common experiences of
racial oppression within the U.S., as well as abroad (Rollins, 1986; Young, 2006).
The movement thus possessed a global view of racism and indicted the forces of
colonialism, imperialism, and capitalism as inherently contradictory to the well being
of people of color, whether in Cambodia or Watts. Consequently, the TWM
produced a new identity formation – Third World people of color – which minority
peoples could access if they wished to build relationships beyond their own
community.
The Third World Movement experienced its height in 1968, when the Third
World Liberation Front
26
fought for affirmative action, ethnic studies, and the

26
The Black Student Union and Third World Liberation Front of San Francisco State College
demanded:
…all black studies courses being taught through various other departments be immediately
made part of the black studies department and that all the instructors receive full time pay.
That Dr. Nathan Hare, chairman of the black studies department, receive a full professorship
at a comparable salary according to his qualifications.
That there be studies which will grant a bachelor’s degree in black studies; that the black
studies department chairman, faculty and staff have the sole power to hire faculty and control
and determine the destiny of the department.
That all unused slots for black students from fall, 1968, under the special admissions
program be filled in the spring, 1969.
That 20 full time teaching positions be allocated to the department for black studies.
That Dr. Helen Bedesem be removed from the position of financial aid officer and that a
black person be hired to replace her; that the third world (non white) people have the power
to determine how the job will be administered.
That no disciplinary action will be administered in any way to any students, workers,
teachers, or administrators during and after the strike as a consequence of their participation
in the strike.
That the California State College trustees not be allowed to dissolve any black programs on
or off San Francisco State College campus.
That George Mason Murray maintain his teaching position on campus for the 1968-69
academic year.
That a school of ethnic studies for the ethnic groups involved in the third (non-white world
be set up with the students in each particular ethnic organization having the authority and
control of the hiring and retention of any faculty member, director, and administrator, as well
as the curriculum in a specific area of study.
109
employment of faculty of color at San Francisco State and UC Berkeley. The TWLF
staged a series of hunger strikes and protests which ultimately led to a temporary
shut-down of San Francisco State. In a flyer entitled “The Politics of the Strike,”
protestors made their case:
The fundamental issue of this strike is the right of Third World people to
determine the structure and content of the Third World programs on this
campus. Time and time again the administration has proven that its interests
are not the same as ours. The right of Third World people to self
determination is a central part of the world-wide conflict against imperialism.
That principle is as important to Berkeley as it is to the revolutionary struggle
of the people in Africa, Asia, and Latin America (Louie and Omatsu, 2001, p.

The assertions of the TWLF indicate that students felt that their own personal lives
within American educational institutions were tied with the experiences of people of
color throughout the world (Rollins, 1986). Through their strikes, the TWLF forced
San Francisco State and UC Berkeley to recognize that they could no longer stand
above and apart from the racial fray of the times. Ultimately the strikers achieved
some of their political ends and were successful in helping to create ethnic studies
programs, and the Third World Movement made its mark on higher education
(Umemoto, 1989; Young, 2006).
Racialized Social Movements: Challenging the Status Quo within Institutions
of Higher Education

The social movements sweeping the nation during the sixties and seventies
are often lauded and despised for compelling changes in federal legislation and

That 50 faculty positions be appropriated to the school of ethnic studies, 20 of which would
be for the black studies program.
That in the fall of 1969, all applications of nonwhite students be accepted.
That George Mason Murray and any other faculty person chosen by non white people as
their teacher be retained in their position (Lembke and Dreyfuss, 1968, p.1, 25)

110
national policy, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the withdrawal from
Vietnam (Chong, 1991; Klarman, 2006; Loevy, Humphrey, Rauh, and Stewart,
1997). Yet the movements were also responsible for sociopolitical change in more
localized, specific settings, such as within institutions of higher education. Colleges
and universities were pulled, often against their will, into the racial politics of the
time, and were forced to make institutional changes which recognized the concerns
and needs of students of color, such as the creation of affirmative action and ethnic
studies (Anderson, 2005; Yang, 2000). Institutions of higher education thus came to
play an integral role in racial formations and racial projects. This role did not
dissipate with the end of the movements but instead continued in the post-Civil
Rights era. Yet in the post-Civil Rights era, multicultural education and the rise of
colorblindness ideology have further complicated the racial affairs of higher
education. Hence, in the following discussion, I examine the nature and implications
of multiculturalism and colorblindness, as well as their connections to the
movements and ideologies of the 1960s and 1970s.
Racial Paradigms of the Post-Civil Rights Era:
The Rise of Multiculturalism and Colorblindness

Affirmative action, ethnic studies, and race based student services are rooted
in the social movements of the sixties and early seventies, which entailed the
participation of students of color. Today, the fruits of these movements, including
race based student services, have been fundamentally shaped by the forces of
multiculturalism and colorblindness. In this dissertation, data indicated that race
based student services at Western University, California University, and Bay
111
University operate underneath the racial projects of colorblindness, left-liberal
multiculturalism, and liberal multiculturalism. In order to illuminate the
underpinnings and implications of these racial projects in a larger socio-political
context, as well as the interconnectedness of these projects, in the following
discussion I examine the characteristics of liberal multiculturalism, colorblindness,
and left-liberal multiculturalism.
The Ruse of Colorblindness, Multiculturalism, and Diversity
The Education Department this summer destroyed more than 300,000 copies
of a booklet designed to help their children learn history after the office of
Vice President Dick Cheney’s wife complained that it mentioned the
National Standards for History, which she has long opposed. In a widely
read opinion piece published in 1994, she complained that ‘We are a better
people than the National Standards indicate, and our children deserve to
know it.’ The standards contained repeated references to the Ku Klux
Klan…and she noted that Harriet Tubman…was mentioned six times
(Alonso-Zaldivar and Merl, 2004, p.A1).

In the shadow of the 2004 presidential campaign, the destruction of 300,000
Education Department booklets, at the behest of Lynne Cheney, exemplified the
contentious, politicized, and racialized process of determining what precisely
students should be taught in school and what constitutes legitimate knowledge. In
the past three and a half decades, this discourse is one which has largely revolved
around the ubiquitous and elusive concept of multicultural education
27
, which has
dominated much thinking about race in the post-Civil Rights era. While
multicultural education is commonly researched and discussed with respect to

27
For purposes of this dissertation, I focus on multicultural education in terms of race because
historically, multicultural education was initially concerned with including the experience of non-
whites, specifically blacks, in school curricula. Consequently, the debate over multicultural education
has been a heavily racialized one (Scott, 2004). Although today multicultural education also attempts
to account for other forms of difference, such as gender and class, I do not address these other forms
here, as it is beyond the scope of this dissertation (Sleeter, 1996).

112
primary and secondary education, given the focus of this dissertation, in the
following discussion I explore the significance of multicultural education at the
collegiate level.
Echoing the sentiments of cultural nationalists from the sixties and seventies,
the prominent multiculturalist scholar Banks (1986, p.221) asserts, “Since the school
is viewed by ethnic reformers as an important institution in their oppression, they
attempt to reform it because they believe that it can be a pivotal vehicle in their
liberation.” Multicultural education has been offered as a tool to achieve such
liberation within schools. Yet after decades of research, there is no one clear answer
to the question: What is multicultural education? Broadly, multicultural education
was developed and implemented at colleges and universities in order to improve the
educational experiences of students of color. However, besides this broad
assessment I argue that the development of multicultural education has yielded so
many simultaneously competing trajectories, that multicultural education is as much
political ideology as it is academic theory. Hence, in the following discussion I
critique two of the four basic forms of multicultural education – conservative and
left-liberal multiculturalism – given that these two forms emerged as racial projects
at two of the universities in this study (McLaren, 1995). While many contemporary
theorists and writers in the field of multicultural education tend to focus on
representation and signification, I explicitly ground and contextualize my analysis in
sociology of race theories and education theories (McLaren and Sleeter, 1995).
Furthermore, I specifically investigate the various forms of multicultural education
within the context of colleges and universities. By doing so, I lay the groundwork
113
for my analysis of race based student services at Bay University and California
University, which employ liberal multiculturalism and left-liberal multiculturalism,
respectively.
Liberal Multiculturalism
Liberal multiculturalism is the most common form of multiculturalism
deployed by institutions of higher education in the post-Civil Rights era. In contrast
to conservative multiculturalism
28
, which emphasizes national harmony and

28
Conservative multiculturalism is historically rooted in traditional functionalist, stratification, and
contest mobility views of education paired with biological, assimilationist, and culture of poverty
understandings of race. That is, conservative multicultural education views the role of the school as
one which socializes students to “proper” norms and values, is inherently meritocratic, and rewards
students based on fair and open competition which both mirrors and prepares students for the
capitalist marketplace, a marketplace which is functionally stratified for maximum production, output
and profit (Collins, 1971; Davis and Moore, 1966; Sadovnik, Cookson, and Semel, 2001; Turner,
1960). Furthermore, conservative multicultural education in its most extreme form draws upon race
as biology theories which uphold white supremacy (Davenport, 1911). However, because of the
obvious racism of biologism, conservative multicultural education today more commonly frames its
discussion of race around the belief that racial minorities should assimilate and adapt to “mainstream”
(read: white) American society and that any failure to do so is a reflection of cultural deficiencies
(D’Souza, 1991; Ravitch, 1990; Schlesinger, 1991). Thus, merging together its views on the purpose
of education and the significance of race, conservative multicultural education proposes that in order
for schools to be functional, racial minorities should be taught and socialized to the dominant culture,
and consequently any discussion of the history of people of color is in reference to their inferior
position to civilized, Christian, democratic whites, a position which is naturalized as appropriate and
historically correct (Gordon, 1992; Kagan, 1989; Kailin, 2002). Moreover, because conservative
multiculturalists understand American schools as inherently meritocratic and based on fair contest
mobility, their form of multicultural education does not entertain any notion that students of color are
not privy to the same opportunities as white students, and thus, race is largely viewed in cultural
terms, not as embedded in social structure or within the social institution of the school itself (Burstein
and Cabello, 1998; Delpit, 1992; Nieto, 1992, 1994; Ogbu, 1992).
Within schools, conservative multicultural education manifests itself in two primary ways. First, the
institutional policies and practices remain unquestioned and remain the same. Hence, for example, a
college governed by the tenets of conservative multiculturalism would not question the validity of
SAT scores, and instead would assume that the scores are a fair measure of students’ academic
“ability,” regardless of race or socio-economic status. This attitude is extremely problematic because
it fails to interrogate the social construction of merit which is a racialized process that has historically
been used as a hegemonic tool to legitimize the concentration of power, privilege, and property in the
hands of whites (West, 1995; Young, 1990). Moreover, such an approach clearly works to the
detriment of students of color who are less likely to have access to rigorous SAT preparation (Jencks
and Phillips, 1998). Second, when race is acknowledged, the discussion is circumscribed within a
humanist curriculum which centers white Western culture in a liberal arts model and views people of
color as inferior, minor, cursory players in history (Ravitch, 1983; Swartz, 1993). In higher
education, this approach may be seen at schools which have core requirements for Western
civilization courses and philosophy courses, both of which focus on white male thought.
114
borderless unity, liberal multicultural education draws on a politically democratic-
liberal and interactionist understanding of education, as well as a cultural pluralist
view of race. Unlike conservative multicultural education, liberal multiculturalism
does acknowledge that there can be inequality in education, and it does move beyond
a cultural understanding of race, albeit not by much (Sleeter and McLaren, 1995).
With its politically liberal view of education, liberal multicultural education does not
holistically question the practices and racial inequalities of the purportedly free
capitalist market. Instead, there is an acceptance of the basic, existing structures of
schools and the economic marketplace, an acceptance that is in keeping with the
conservative viewpoint. However, the liberal perspective does believe that if
education and the economy remain unchecked, inequalities may result.
Consequently, because no racial group should be excessively dominant over others
and inequality is not democratic, educators must intervene and consciously institute
curriculum and practices which validate students of all races (Dewey, 1899;
Sadovnik et al, 2001). The problem with this approach is its failure to question the
fundamental inequalities of capitalism, which are both raced and classed, and which
are manifested in schools. This results in solutions to inequality which are largely
reformative rather than transformative. This liberal view of education is
subsequently paired with a cultural pluralist understanding of race, with a heavy
emphasis on interactionism (Glazer and Moynihan, 1964; Kallen, 1915; Sadovnik et
al, 2001; Waters, 1990). Underneath the auspices of a cultural pluralism paradigm,
liberal multiculturalists assert that students of different racial and ethnic groups have

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the right to maintain their own sense of identity and heritage, but that the ultimate
goal should be equality amongst the races and embracing of all cultures (Bennett,
2001; Kailin, 2002). Great emphasis is given to the potential of interpersonal
interactions to help facilitate an equal and culturally pluralistic environment within
schools (Bennett, 2001).
In universities and colleges, liberal multiculturalism is predominantly
manifested in two ways. First, liberal multiculturalism shapes diversity
programming, such as one time cultural celebrations (i.e., Cinco de Mayo) or
ongoing programs which teach students about different cultures and ethnicities
(Grant and Tate, 1995). Second, information about people of color is added to the
existing curriculum (Delpit, 1992; Swartz, 1992). Thus, while liberal
multiculturalism does go beyond conservative multiculturalism to at least recognize
the validity of non-white cultures, its theoretical underpinnings and rationale for
diversity programming and curriculum reformation are still problematic. Because
both the politically liberal approach to education and a cultural pluralist view of race
tend to neglect structure, the liberal perspective makes itself susceptible to falling
into what Macedo (1998, p.xxxv) terms “Benneton color coordination” – a focus on
the “exoticized other” which is played out in reformative, not transformative,
courses, seminars, workshops, and textbooks which are “uncoordinated, fragmented,
lack resources, and have no long term planning” (Darder, 1991; McLaren, 1991;
Montiel and Padilla, 1998, p.71). This lack of institutionalization is in part
derivative of the liberalist tendency to adopt a self defensive stance and mollify
conservatives. In Multicultural Teaching in the University, Schoem, Frankel,
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Zuniga, and Lewis (1993) stress inclusion and make a point of stating “No one, for
instance, devalues Western civilization or seeks its elimination from the curriculum”
(p.2). This sort of massaging of the conservative ego is one key factor which
distinguishes liberal multiculturalists from leftists and radicals and prevents liberal
multiculturalism from deconstructing the hidden curriculum which normatively
privileges white students (Apple, 1993).
I contend it is important to critically question liberal multiculturalism’s
reliance on interpersonal interactions as a means to achieve racial harmony and
tolerance in schools. This micro level focus is exhibited in Multicultural
Competence in Student Affairs, in which the authors stress multicultural competence,
which is the “awareness, knowledge and skills needed to work with others who are
culturally different from self in meaningful, relevant, and productive ways” (Pope,
Reynolds, and Mueller, 2004, p.13). While interracial interactions are certainly key
to the quality of students’ experiences, as illustrated through numerous studies on
relations between white teachers and their students of color, I believe that liberal
multiculturalism’s propensity to solely focus on the interaction aspect of education is
inadequate for it relegates structural and institutional issues of inequality, such as
lower retention rates amongst students of color, to the background (Bahr, Fuchs,
Stecker, and Fuchs, 1991; Tinto, 1993; Tusmith and Reddy, 2002).
Left-Liberal Multiculturalism
In the post-Civil Rights era left-liberal multiculturalism counters the liberalist
viewpoint by adopting a conflict oriented view of education and cultural nationalist
ideologies about race. The left-liberal perspective draws upon Marxist influenced
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understandings of education, such as that proposed by Bowles and Gintis (1976) and
Chomsky (2000), which argue that schools are rife with conflict amongst students,
teachers, and administrators, and that the meritocratic ideology normalized by
conservative multiculturalists obscures the reproduction of the class system in
schools. Left-liberal multicultural education takes this class conflict approach and
applies it to issues of racial inequality in schools. Here, theories of cultural
nationalism, from Pan Africanism to Chicanismo, are also utilized to provide a
framework for understanding race and explicitly seek to answer the conservative and
liberal conceptions of multicultural education (Arce, 1978; Blauner, 1972). While
the conservative approach is to be faulted for its racism, left-liberal proponents also
argue that the liberal emphasis on equality glosses over “important cultural
differences that are responsible for different behaviors, values, attitudes, cognitive
styles, and social practices” (McLaren, 1995, p.40-41). Instead left-liberal
multiculturalists focus on distinctive, unique Black, Latin@ and Asian American
experiences and perspectives, a focus which has most clearly manifested itself in
ethnic studies programs at the collegiate level.
In spite of its well intentioned effort to be racially counter-hegemonic, left-
liberal multicultural education is susceptible to producing its own form of hegemony.
That is, it is prone to essentializing singular “Black,” “Latin@,” and “Asian
American” perspectives. There is a general failure to recognize the plurality and
multiplicity of these communities. This is a problem rooted in the “race first”
patriarchal ideologies of the cultural nationalist movements of the sixties and early
seventies, which neglected issues of gender, sexuality, etc. (Collins, 2000; Espiritu,
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1997/2000; Garcia, 1997). Furthermore, given its reliance on a conflict paradigm, I
find left-liberal multicultural education to be overly deterministic. As much as there
is a deep sense of resistance to the educational oppression of racial minorities, there
is also a sense of pessimism and resignation to the school’s power to oppress and
reproduce social stratification and corresponding inequality.
The Denial of Race: The Rise of Colorblindness
In spite of multiculturalism’s popularity during the past two decades, in the
late nineties the neo-conservative ideology of colorblindness began to slowly chip
away at multiculturalism and its stature within the world of education.
Colorblindness seized on the most conservative aspects of multiculturalism, namely
its neglect of institutional racism and its propensity to conceive of the races as
relatively equal. With the support of activists, such as Ward Connerly, and self-
proclaimed scholars, including Dinish D’Souza, proponents of colorblindness have
expanded the range of assertions made by colorblindness and translated
colorblindness into a powerful ideology which has yielded material social changes,
most significantly, the demise of affirmative action (Connerly, 2002; Chang, Witt,
Jones, and Hakuta. 2003).
Colorblind ideology cleverly draws upon the Civil Rights era and Civil
Rights rhetoric to advance its contention that race and racism are no longer
significant issues in U.S. society (Berry, 1996). Colorblind ideologists view the U.S.
in the best of terms, as a nation which was previously marred by slavery,
segregation, and racism, but conscientiously corrected itself during the Civil Rights
era, and has lived up to its creed of equality for all. Racism, in the view of
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colorblindness, is merely an aberration within U.S. society. It vehemently disagrees
with those who contend that race and racism have been and continue to be central
and fundamental components of U.S. society (Anderson, 2001; Feagin, 2001; Fraser
and Kick, 2000; see Payne, 1998). In response to African Americans’ calls for
reparations for slavery and continuing expressions of dissatisfaction with the U.S.’
treatment of Blacks, Dinish D’Souza (1995, p.) counters, “If America as a nation
owes blacks as a group reparations for slavery, what do blacks as a group owe
America for the abolition of slavery?” Neo-conservative pundits like D’Souza thus
vigorously, and somewhat astonishingly, cling to an idealistic view of the U.S., while
ignoring daily social realities which confirm the continuing significance of race.
In the rare cases that colorblind ideologists recognize the importance of race,
they work to support white privilege (Allen and Chung, 2000). That is,
colorblindness, if it gives any credence to race, conceives of race as relatively
benign, an interesting individual characteristic akin to hair color, which possess
relatively little social significance (McIntosh, 1988). In a parallel fashion, this view
sees racism as individual and as a problem of the past, not as an institutional or
structural problem presently afflicting U.S. society. In turn, whites are absolved of
any social responsibility when it comes to race (Kendall, 2006). On a national level,
colorblindness and white privilege are intimately tied to and uphold the cherished
belief that the U.S. is a physical and social location of equality and freedom, even for
the most downtrodden and shunned of people (Lipsitz, 1998).
The discourses and beliefs associated with colorblindness do not function in a
vacuum without material, “real life” consequences. On the contrary, the assertion
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that race is of little importance has resulted in attacks on and dismantling of race
conscious policies and programs, from minority set aside business programs, to
affirmative action. Hence, in the following discussion I highlight the successful
attack on affirmative action in California, an attack which was based upon colorblind
ideology.
The UC Regents’ Dismantling of Affirmative Action
California in the mid-.1990s was a seminal place and time in the battle over
affirmative action, and yielded some of the most significant victories for colorblind
adherents. In 1995 firebrand conservative Ward Connerly proposed that the
University of California system abolish the use of “’race, religion, gender, color,
ethnicity, or national origin’ as criteria in its hiring and contracting practices as of
Jan. 1, 1996” (Wallace and Lesher, 1995, p.A1). In 1995, the University of
California regents, 17 out of 18 whom were appointed by Republican governors,
voted to abolish affirmative action in the admissions process, as well as in hiring and
contracting (Wallace and Lesher, 1995). The prospect of dismantling affirmative
action raised the ire of both political proponents and opponents of affirmative action
and was couched in larger presidential politics. California’s governor at the time,
Pete Wilson, was running for president and had made affirmative action, and his
opposition to it, a central part of his campaign. Wilson and Connerly’s arguments
against affirmative action appealed to liberal democratic and individualistic ideals,
and exhibited an appropriation of Civil Rights language. In justifying his position on
the day the regents voted, Wilson stated,
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This institution has a long and proud tradition of generating and tolerating
diverse opinions and perspectives. We will carry on that tradition today. But
as regents of the University of California, we cannot tolerate university
policies or practices that violate fundamental fairness, trampling individual
rights to create and give preference to group rights…The questions before us
are simple and can’t be set aside: Are we going to treat all Californians
equally and fairly? Or are we going to continue to divide Californians by
race? The answer we owe the people, and the changes we must make, are
clear.

Wilson’s comments illustrate the illusions of colorblindness, including the belief that
the U.S. is historically and wholly grounded in protecting the rights of individuals,
when traditionally, U.S. government has worked to protect interests of whites at the
expense of people of color (Jacobson, 1999; Katznelson, 2006; Rodegir, 2007).
Moreover, with his pleading question, “…are we going to continue to divide
Californians by race?” Wilson conveniently forgets that affirmative action was
constructed as a response to existing racial divisions in California, as well as
throughout the nation, such as the deficiency of educational opportunities available
to African Americans, from primary education, to post-secondary education (Kozol,
2006).
The Passage of Proposition 209
In spite of its apparent shortcomings, colorblindness, with its idealism and its
ability to tap into white resentment, continued its assault on affirmative action,
securing another victory with the passage of Proposition 209 in 1996.
Appropriating the language of the Civil Rights movement, Proposition 209

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Prohibits the state, local governments, districts, public universities, colleges,
and schools, and other government instrumentalities from discriminating
against or giving preferential treatment to any individual or group in public
employment, public education, or public contracting on the basis of race, sex,
color, ethnicity, or national origin (Official Title and Summary prepared by
the Attorney General, 1996).

Proposition 209 thus presents an argument that on a cursory level appears to be
intrinsically just, equitable, and democratic – no one should be discriminated against
or given preference for their race; rather, we should judge one another on our merits.
Such ideals invoke a view of the U.S. as a place of equal opportunity, a view which
many Americans hold dear to their hearts. Yet this belief and viewpoint ignores the
socially constructed nature of merit. As Young (1990, p.193) states, “most criteria of
evaluation used in our society, including educational credentials and standardized
testing, have normative and cultural context,” and consequently, “impartial, value
neutral, scientific measures of merit do not exist.” Young’s argument holds true
when we examine the most common measures of “merit” used in the college
admissions process – grades and SAT scores. Middle and upper class students are
more likely to attend high schools in which Advanced Placement classes are
available, and hence have the potential to boost students’ G.P.A.s, since taking an
AP class is weighted more heavily (Oberjuerge, 1999; Wells, Tijerina Revilla,
Holme, Atanda, 2004). Furthermore, these students, by virtue of their class status,
may be able to afford costly SAT preparation classes which help them to attain
higher scores (Tierney and Jun, 2001). Thus, it is evident that the merit measures
utilized in higher education are anything but equitable and fair, and the writers and

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proponents of Proposition 209 based their argument for colorblind treatment of
citizens in part on the fallacy that measures of merit are neutral.
The marketing of the Proposition further legitimized whites’ view that
affirmative action is a form of reverse discrimination, despite the empirical reality
that affirmative action does little, if any, harm to white students’ prospects for
admission to a given university and/or overall pursuit of higher education (Editorial,
Journal of Blacks in Higher Education, 2002). Yet given the hegemonic view of the
U.S. as a country built on rugged individualism, which conveniently cloaks the
systematic disadvantages heaped upon people of color and corollary privileges
bestowed upon whites, it is not surprising that Proposition 209 passed with 54% of
the vote. In a bid to protect their privilege, dominant, majority groups tended to vote
in favor of Prop 209 – 61% of men, compared to 48% of women, 63% of whites,
compared to 26%, 24%, and 39% of African Americans, Latino/as, and Asian
Americans respectively (Los Angeles Times, 1996).
Living in a Post-Affirmative Action World:
The Aftermath of Proposition 209 and the Powerful Hold of
Colorblindness

Ten years later, it appears that those who voted in favor of Prop 209 have
successfully protected much of their privilege within institutions of higher education.
Since the passage of Proposition 209, the minority enrollment of the University of
California system has declined, characterized by particularly dire admission numbers
for African American students (Cross and Slater, 2002). For example, at UCLA only
2.2% of the 10,487 students admitted in fall 2006 were Black (Gordon, 2007).
Furthermore, although some private institutions have capitalized on the constraints
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placed on public institutions, and increased their minority enrollment, private
institutions have also been increasingly de-racialized, fearing lawsuits
(Bartholomew, 2007; Okong’o, 2006). For example, scholarships and programs
once targeted toward minority students are oftentimes now opened up to white
students (Hui, 2006). Such rollbacks of legislation, policies, and programming
established by activists in the sixties and early seventies adversely impacts the
educational opportunities and quality of education available to students of color
given that research continues to indicate that a college degree translates into higher
income. More specifically, the U.S. Census Bureau estimates that workers 18 and
over with a bachelor’s degree earn an average of $51,206 a year, while those with a
high school diploma earn $27,915. Moreover, college and university attendance also
provides less quantifiable benefits, such as access to social networks and cultural
capital, which can potentially enhance one’s overall quality of life through a variety
of ways, from increasing one’s job opportunities, to providing access to desirable
residences (Pascarella, Pierson, Wolniak, and Terenzini, 2004). Consequently,
education is a major quality of life issue for all Americans, but in particular people of
color and the poor and working classes who may benefit the most from the fruits of
education. Hence, the trends of the post-Civil Rights era in higher education merit
intense investigation and critique as they provide insight into larger issues of race in
U.S. society and culture.
Colorblindness’ capacity to induce ideological and material changes within
institutions of higher education has also significantly altered the practices and tactics
of affirmative action proponents. While proponents once framed affirmative action
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as a necessary tool to remedy the effects of past and present racial discrimination,
today, pro-affirmative action activists have resorted to a presumably less reactionary
argument – that affirmative action helps to foster a diverse campus and healthy
interracial relations (Harvard Law Review, 1996; Lawrence III, 2001; Sher, 1999).
With the case of affirmative action, we thus find that even those who we might
expect to acknowledge race as an issue of power in the past and present, have fallen
into the trap of deracialization. Such “watering down” of the significance of racism,
particularly on an institutional and structural level, by affirmative action proponents,
is reflective of a larger national trend in which a “liberal-conservative consensus” on
the need to move beyond racism and race in public policy has developed (Kim, 2000,
p.2).
Higher Education in the Post-Civil Rights Era
The racialized activism of the sixties and seventies, various strains of
multiculturalism in the eighties and nineties, and colorblindness in the late nineties
and present, have all indelibly impacted higher education. The Civil Rights and
cultural nationalist movements brought about affirmative action, ethnic studies, and
other race based programming. In turn, multiculturalism represented higher
education’s struggle to understand and make meaning of what these movements had
wrought. The conservative form sought to turn back the clock, emphasizing national
solidarity above racial and ethnic differences, the liberal form emerged as a well
intentioned effort to recognize cultural, racial, and ethnic differences, but fell into a
realm of superficiality, entertaining itself with the colorful food, dress, and dance of
different peoples, and the left-liberal form drew upon cultural nationalist ideologies,
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advocating for racial autonomy. Out of these forms, liberal multiculturalism tends to
be the form which has most widely been put forth by universities and colleges, and
this is unsurprising, as liberal multiculturalism is frankly, a safe approach to coping
with issues of race on campus, departing from the perceived radicalism which roiled
higher education in the sixties and seventies. Yet recently both the hard won fruits
of the Civil Rights and cultural nationalist movements, as well as multiculturalism,
have fallen prey to colorblindness. With a dangerously appealing ideology invoking
equality, individual rights, and meritocracy, colorblind pundits have been successful
in waging war on affirmative action, and all race based programming for that matter,
from the University of California, to the University of Michigan. Higher education
today is thus in a tenuous state with respect to race, as it still struggles with
reconciling the meaning and implications of the social unrest which consumed the
1960s and 1970s and understanding and responding to contemporary calls for
multiculturalism and colorblindness.
Institutions of higher education are therefore a compelling social location to
undertake a study of race as they are sites which manifest the complications and
contradictions of race in the post-Civil Rights era. On the one hand, institutions of
higher education, like other American social institutions, have historically resisted
addressing race and reconstructing programs and policies to account for issues of
race. Instead, colleges and universities have had to be forced by students of color
and activists to make changes. On the other hand, in the post-Civil Rights era,
colleges and universities are under attack by neo-conservatives and the right, who
argue that higher education has run racially amok, engaging in divisive, un-American
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identity politics. These attacks have been increasingly successful, and the
dismantling of affirmative action has been the most significant result. When the
continuing attempts to de-racialize institutions of higher education are supplemented
by the increasingly dynamic ways in which students themselves conceive of race, it
seems that institutions of higher education now occupy a racial abyss in which they
may refuse, may be rendered unable, or may not know how to address race.
Given the ongoing challenges of race confronting students and institutions of
higher education, in the following discussion I draw on interviews, observation, and
archival research to examine race based student services (RBSS), which remain one
of the hard one fruits of the movements of the sixties and early seventies. My
discussion of RBSS at three different universities illuminates the ongoing power of
race within institutions of higher education, as well as the power of institutions and
their agents to participate in racial projects on campus. In particular, I deconstruct
the ways in which Western University, California University, and Bay University
engage in racial projects of colorblindness, left-liberal, and liberal multiculturalism,
and the implications of these racial projects for understanding students’ racial
identities on each campus.
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Chapter 2: Western University
The Long, Strange Path from Racial Leftism to
Colorblindness
Introduction
Walking onto Western University’s expansive campus, it is difficult to not be
struck by its beauty – new state of the art facilities blend in seamlessly with
traditional red brick buildings and well-manicured lawns and trees provide ample
space for students to read outside on a sunny day. When one reaches the plateau of
the campus, there is a picturesque view of the city which seems to speak of
boundless opportunities, of California dreams. Such dreams are often only
accessible to the privileged, and despite its status as a public university, a large
portion of WU’s student population are from upper middle and upper class
backgrounds. As tuitions at private universities ballooned in the past decade, upper
class parents soon came to realize that an elite education could indeed be attained at
a university such as WU. Furthermore, the increased value of a college education
and degree in a technologically driven, globalized, service sector economy, has
fostered an increasingly competitive college admissions process, in which upper
class students who have access to SAT preparation classes, AP classes, and a range
of extracurricular activities, oftentimes have the upper hand. As a result of the
aforementioned trends, WU has grown increasingly popular among prospective
college students, and in particular among upper middle and upper class students
(Weiss, 1999). The increased interest in the school is reflected in its admissions
numbers – this past year it had one of the largest applicant pools among universities
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throughout the nation. Yet such a view of the university – a beautiful place of
opportunity and stepping stone for high achieving, well-polished students – belies a
history of racial conflict, political activism, and educational inequality dating back to
the university’s founding in the early 1900s.
In the following discussion, I highlight notable instances of racialized politics
and activism which occurred at Western University in the 1960s and 1970s. A
review of WU’s contentious history and its students’ involvement in great racial
debates of ideological and material concern helps to provide important context for
understanding WU’s present day position on the local and national racial terrain.
More specifically, in relation to the other two universities which are the foci of this
dissertation, I argue that WU has historically experienced greater racialized activism
as a result of its more liberal and diverse student body. Consequently, racial
discourses and racial projects at WU have been decidedly more liberal and leftist
than those at California and Bay University. However, as I proceed to discuss WU’s
present day nature and in particular, the nature of RBSS, I will show that current
legal constraints, driven by the racial project of colorblindness, and WU’s prestigious
reputation, have created a university and RBSS which are increasingly unable to
explicitly engage with issues of race and changing racial formations.
The History of Western University
Unrest: 1960s – 1970s
The time period spanning the 1960s and 1970s was a time of great unrest and
hope at Western University, as the Civil Rights movement, cultural nationalist
movements, anti-Vietnam movement, and leftist movements permeated the campus.
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The activism and conflicts which occurred on campus illustrate the localization of
racial projects. That is, by examining this contentious period, we are able to observe
the ways in which national racial projects and their associated racial formations, such
as the Black Power Movement and its production of “Black” as an identity,
functioned within the context of higher education. At WU, these racial projects and
racial formations constituted an ongoing hotbed of dissension and conflict, with far
reaching consequences that can still be observed today.
In the early 1960s, the Civil Rights movement touched the Western
University campus in various capacities, and the university’s response to Civil
Rights activism reflected its realization that the movement could not be ignored, as
well as its unwillingness to fully support the interests and ends of the movement.
Perhaps the most notable and compelling reflection of the institution’s difficulty
responding to the Civil Rights movement was the experience of the WU Freedom
Riders. In 1961 five WU students became freedom riders, journeying with other
college students to the South to help register Black voters and protest against the Jim
Crow South. The five WU Freedom Riders became enmeshed in the swirling
conflict of the summer when they were arrested and jailed in perhaps the most
racially treacherous of states – Mississippi. In response to the WU Freedom Riders’
incarceration and legal woes, back at home in California, WU students organized a
petition signing drive, asking the Associated Student Body to help pay for the
Freedom Riders’ legal fees, amounting to $5,000. A counter petition also began to
circulate, and the choice of whether or not to financially assist the Freedom Riders
became a campus wide conflict. Eventually, the original petition was rejected by the
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Associated Student Body, and the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) paid for
counsel and the freedom riders’ appeal bonds. Yet WU students, staff, and
administrators were free to personally donate to the Freedom Riders’ cause and
many did so, including the Chancellor of the university (Newspaper article, 1966).
Western University’s treatment of the Freedom Riders exemplifies the
institution’s struggle to anticipate and respond to issues of race. In this case, WU
was unprepared to deal with incarcerated students – it had no formal or informal
policy in place to address the concerns and needs of such students. Although we
cannot be certain, I argue it is quite likely that the university did not have such
policies in place because (a) there were varying degrees of support for the Civil
Rights movement among leadership and (b) university officials likely viewed the
activities of WU Freedom Riders as separate from the affairs of the university.
Consequently, the case of the Freedom Riders indicates that WU– a major university
which now trumpets its “diversity,” once balked at supporting the Civil Rights
movement wholesale and was slow to recognize that it could not simply insulate
itself from the movement. Such a history is in keeping with Omi and Winant’s
(1994) assessment of social institutions, particularly those of the state, which they
contend are slow to change and only bend to the social demands of activist social
movements when these movements become too threatening.
Yet the Freedom Rides not only yielded a great impact on Western
University as an institution, but also on the daily, lived experiences of those students
who became involved. The activities of college students in the Freedom Rides gave
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students an important sense of empowerment. As one WU Freedom Rider wrote in
the campus publication The Marxist Humanist (1964),
Learning and living were not held in separate compartments. After
discussions about aspects of Negro History or of the Freedom Movement we
often went out to canvass the neighborhood to get people to attend a civil
rights meeting or we talked to parents about sending their first grade
childrend (sic) to previously all white schools. In the Freedom Movement we
acted as well as talked. There was no separation of thinking and doing.

This sort of enthusiasm for inducing tangible change in people’s lives and in policy
was reflected in WU students’ participation in other forms of Civil Rights activism.
In addition to participating in the Freedom Rides, WU students were active in a wide
range of Civil Rights affairs in the local metropolitan region, from organizing food
drives in Black neighborhoods, to inviting Dr. Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, and
Floyd McKissick, the leader of CORE, to speak on campus, to protesting the
appearance of George Wallace at WU as part of the “Distinguished Speakers
Platform” (Associated Students and Graduate Students Association flyer, 1965;
Marxist Humanist newsletter, 1964; SCOPE (Summer Community Organization and
Political Education) flyer, 1965). Participation in such activism reflected many
students’ desire to participate in the Civil Rights movement regardless of the
university’s response to Civil Rights, which ranged from passiveness, to hostility.
This desire grew increasingly more militant after the death of Martin Luther
King, who at one time visited and spoke at WU. In response to his death in 1968,
students at WU not only organized a memorial service, but also distributed flyers
from the Peace and Freedom Movement and Black Panthers which conveyed a much
more militant message than King himself professed. Emblazoned with the logos of
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the Peace and Freedom Movement and the Black Panthers (1968), the writers of the
flyer contend,
…although officials on all levels of government give public praise to the man
[Dr. Martin Luther King] and his deeds, they are all too silent in pledging
themselves to the concrete actions that are needed to deal with the evils in
American society…As a response…we make the following demands:
EXISTING POLICE FORCES MUST BE WITHDRAWN FROM ALL
BLACK COMMUNITIES
MASSIVE ECONOMIC AID SHOULD BE PROVIDED TO REBUILD
THE BLACK COMMUNITIES
CONTROL OF THE INSTITUTIONS OF THE BLACK COMMUNITY
MUST BE TURNED OVER TO THAT COMMUNITY.

This language, in its aggressiveness and demands for internal control of the Black
community, reflects a larger shift in racial projects occurring at the time, from the
Civil Rights movement to cultural nationalist movements. This shift was only
exacerbated by Dr. King’s death and the slow pace of progressive change in
communities of color throughout the U.S. Interestingly, another flyer from an
unknown organization (1968) also circulated during this time, which called on white
students to radicalize: “THE REV. DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING HAS BEEN
MURDERED. White America, of which we are all a part, is guilty of his
murder…not because we are apathetic, because we have done nothing.” Such calls
to action suggest that white students also played a role in moving the student body to
the political left as the era progressed.
WU did respond to these emergent movements with the establishment of the
Center for African American Studies, the American Indian Studies Center, the Asian
American Studies Center and the Chicano Studies Research Center in 1968 (Memo,
Chancellor’s Office, 1971). These research centers exemplified the connection
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between the cultural nationalist movements permeating every facet of society and
ethnic studies within academia. However, it should also be noted that the creation of
ethnic studies centers at WU was not without strife – that is, the university did not
decide to create these research centers on its own accord, but rather as a response to
the demands of students and faculty of color.
As militant racial movements grew throughout the country, WU students
soon began to make linkages between the struggle for racial justice within the United
States and the struggle against militarism, colonialism, and imperialism abroad. This
emergent, global view of race is evidenced in numerous documents from the mid to
late 1960s, including the following:
• A flyer distributed by WU’s W.E.B. Du Bois Club (1965) asserts
Alabama – Mississippi
Viet Nam
The game is the same
It is time for us to call on President Johnson and congress to END THE WAR
IN VIET NAM AND START THE WAR ON RACISM AND
SEGREGATION.

• A flyer distributed from the Spring Mobilization Committee to End
the War in Vietnam (undated) tells Latin American citizens that
Vietnam,
is a racist war against colored people.
Such linkages made for a more complex racial project, which due to its
multidimensional, multi-issue nature, was tenuous to maintain, particularly for
college students. Consequently, Vietnam increasingly took center stage while racial
issues were relegated.
As the country continued to struggle with the ideological and material costs
of the war in Vietnam, university campuses remained a central part of the ongoing
135
socio-political conflict, as painfully illustrated through the Kent State massacre in
1970
29
. At WU, of particular note during this time period were campus protests
against Vietnam. Outraged by Richard Nixon’s escalation of the war in Vietnam and
WU’s support of the ROTC, WU students engaged in several large protests (Olson,
1996). In May of 1970, over 500 WU students, led by Students for a Democratic
Society (SDS), staged a massive protest which spilled over into the surrounding
neighborhood (Greenwood, 1970). In 1972, a similar, and larger protest of 1,000
students followed. Eventually over 50 WU students, were arrested, including the
WU basketball team’s center (Lane, 1972). Following the protests, WU’s
Chancellor emphasized that the university should get back to “business as usual.” In
addition to mass mobilization, WU students also organized several smaller scale
protests, including a silent vigil and demonstration at a Selective Service College
Qualification test held on WU’s campus (flyer, Social Welfare professor, 1968;
Weiss, 1968).
A final key event in WU’s history during the contentious period of the 1960s
and 1970s was the highly controversial firing of a prominent radical Black feminist
(Olson, 1996). In 1970, she was an Assistant Professor of Philosophy at WU, and
was fired by the university for her membership in the Communist Party at the urging
of Governor Ronald Reagan
30
. The proceedings leading up to the professor’s firing,

29
Four students were killed and nine wounded by the National Guard as they were protesting the war
in Vietnam (Caputo, 2005).
30
During the late 1960s, California also elected a new governor, Ronald Reagan, who would become
a lighting rod when it came to issues of race, class, and the war and the right of students to protest.
Student protest and unrest became a fundamental component of Reagan’s campaign in 1966, and De
Groot (1996, p.107) argues that paying an inordinate amount of attention to ongoing events at schools
such as Berkeley “brilliantly highlighted the populist themes of Reagan’s campaign: morality, law
and order, strong leadership, traditional values, and anti-intellectualism.” After winning the election,
136
and the firing in itself, was constituted by heated debate over the role of politics and
freedom of speech within higher education (Chronology, Bahr, 2000; Chronology of
the ------ Case, Brault, undated). The professor’s politics – her commitment to
struggles against racial, gender, and class oppression and the anti-war fight – in
many ways embodied the preeminent issues of the time with which Americans were
struggling. Thus, her firing represents once again, WU’s hesitancy and caution when
responding to the racial projects of the time.
Western University students’ involvement in racialized activism and social
movements was intricately linked to substantive alterations in their collective racial
identities, namely rearticulation. More specifically, these students challenged
historically deep seated biological theories of race and corresponding white
supremacist racial hierarchies, which accorded inferior physical, emotional, and
mental characteristics to people of color. Such theories and hierarchies had long
been the ideological rationale for unequal material conditions, including disparate
educational experiences (Feagin, 2001; Winant, 2000). Instead, in keeping with the
likes of W.E.B. Du Bois, who as one of the preeminent challengers to biologism,
students began to develop racial pride and advocate for the redistribution of
resources, including political power, income, and education. These processes reflect
significant theoretical and empirical realities of racial identity. In particular, WU
students’ political activities indicated that racial identity is constituted by collective,

Reagan made attacking the UC system and its students a central part of his governorship, immediately
firing the liberal UC President Clark Kerr and constantly engaging in inflammatory rhetoric which
essentially portrayed activist liberal and leftist students as degenerates and professors as elitist, amoral
radicals (De Groot, 1996).

137
social processes and is not simply the domain of the individual psyche as much
research on students’ racial identities has suggested (Helms and Carter, 1999; Helms
and Parham, 1996; Phinney, 1992). The collective nature of identity is clear in the
comments of the WU Freedom Riders, who worked with community members,
parents, and teachers, to provide an integrated education to Southern Black students.
These social relations helped students to develop stronger, socially conscious African
American / Black identities, following the collectivist racial philosophies of Martin
Luther King, Malcolm X, and Stokeley Carmichael, who all suggested, in varying
ways, that Blacks needed to construct robust and cohesive community identities and
interests which could withstand attacks from whites.
Moreover, as the Civil Rights movement faltered and cultural nationalist
movements took hold, the experiences of WU students of color and their identity
formations were shaped by global racial politics, as reflected in the W.E.B. Du Bois
Club’s argument that segregation and racism in the American South was the same as
in Vietnam. These linkages suggested that identities for people of color and their
corollary experiences, were not constrained by American boundaries and that white
supremacy and racial oppression were global phenomena. In short, WU students’
participation in racialized activism highlights the manner in which students have
historically challenged biological and white supremacist thinking about race, and
exhibited the inherently political nature of racial identity.
The Chicano Studies Controversy
Before I turn to a discussion of race based students services at Western
University, which have manifested themselves in the form of the Community
138
Education Project, and then the Center for Academic Achievement, it is necessary to
briefly discuss one other signficant instance of racial protest which occurred at WU
in the 1990s which revolved around the potential implementation of a Chicano
Studies department (Olson, 1996). While WU housed a Chicano Studies research
center and interdisciplinary program since the early seventies, it had not accorded
Chican@ Studies departmental status, which was perceived by many Chican@ /
Latin@ students and faculty as the ultimate sign of respect and autonomy within the
university. In the late eighties and early nineties, Chican@ Studies majors and
graduates declined, and with the university facing fiscal stress, the program was in
danger of being dismantled. Consequently, a movement began among Chican@
students and faculty, as well as their allies, to not only retain the Chican@ Studies
program, but establish a Chican@ Studies Department, which the movement
participants viewed as long overdue (Branach, 2003; Navid, 2005).
The university’s refusal to establish a department ignited rage, particularly
when the Chancellor announced the university’s decision on the eve of Cesar
Chavez’s funeral in 1993. In protest, a few hundred students marched across the
campus and occupied a building housing faculty facilities. Before long, the city
police were called in, violent clashes ensued, and close to a hundred students were
arrested. A hunger strike was initiated in protest. Five students, a professor, two
community activists, and a high school student participated in the hunger strike on
the WU campus (Navid, 2005). Eventually the Western University administration
agreed to the establishment of a Chicano/a Studies Interdiciplinary Center (New
York Times, 1993). On the ten year anniversary of the hunger strikes, a campus
139
newspaper article noted that the strikes are considered a “pivotal event” in the history
of the university, one which reminded students and fauclty of the importance of
“strength and unity in regard to student activism” (Branach, 2003). However, in
spite of the great attention the strikes attracted, the Interdisciplinary Center did not
include a Chicano/a Studies Department and it was not until 2005, 12 years later, that
a department was approved (Bialik, 2005; Times Staff Reports, 2005). In response,
former strikers reiterated their belief in the need for the strikes, stating “We tried
everything. This was our last resort – our life was on the line…. We knew what we
were getting into – there was no second thoughts.” However, strikers also lamented
the fact that the creation of a department had not come “sooner
31
” (Navid, 2005, p.1)
The contentious and heated debate over Chicano/a Studies at WU illustrates
the power of student mobilization around issues of race. While much has been
written about student activism of the sixties and seventies, students of the post-Civil
Rights era have often been portrayed as apathetic and self centered. While it is
undeniable that activism has decreased, the reasons for its decrease have just as
much to do with an increasingly unstable, yet competitive economy, rising tuition
costs, and the movement of the country to the political Right, as they are the result of
some purportedly selfish generation. Furthermore, the activism of Chican@ and

31
Not all coverage of the hunger strikes portrays Chicano/a Studies proponents in a positive light.
Most interestingly, while researching the strikes, I came across a website which initially appears to be
the official Western University alumni association website. However, upon closer examination, it
becomes clear that the website is run by a conservative WU alumnus who is outraged by the purported
“radicalism” and “political extremism” which is taking over WU. In an article on the website, the
“alumni association’s” leader contends that when Chicano/a Studies protestors occupied
administrative buildings on campus, that they lay “waste” to them, “causing between $35,000 and
$50,000 in damage.” Moreover, the website states that most of the student “radicals” were released
only within a few days of the incident and were allowed to donate Chicano art to compensate for the
damages. Finally, the author of the article concludes that the university’s compromise with the
strikers and protesters was “a victory for special interest racial affiliation groups.”
140
non-Chican@ students alike in 1993 indicates that student activism is alive and well
in the post-Civil Rights era and that students are in fact, in many cases, very
concerned with issues of race. That is, in spite of the neo-conservative push for
colorblindness, WU student activists argued that society, and WU, was not
colorblind. Moreover, far beyond viewing race in negative terms, activists viewed a
potential Chicano/a Studies Department as positive affirmation of Chican@s’
contributions to intellectual life.
Another significant aspect of the Chicano/a Studies controversy pertains to
the institutional responses to students’ mobilization around race and racial identity.
There is a tendency to view institutions of higher education as inherently liberal,
even leftist, and in fact, there is evidence to suggest that educational institutions and
their members are often more likely to be liberal in their thinking than other
members of the population. Yet a closer empirical examination of racialized events
and conflicts within universities and colleges yields a more complex picture. In
particular, I argue that the struggle over Chicano/a Studies at Western University,
and the university’s resistance to the establishment of a department, indicates that
institutions of higher education are not always open to progressive racial
programming. Furthermore, even when a compromise was reached, which ended the
strike, WU managed to avoid the actual creation of a Chicano/a Studies department.
Instead, they seemed to engage in the process of absorption, making as many
concessions as possible without actual fully meeting the protestors’ demands. We
see then, that universities such as WU, can be quite active in refusing to recognize
141
the political interests, and even racial identities, of students, via the establishment of
institutionalized policies and programming.
History of the Center for Academic Achievement (CAA)
From the Community Education Project to the Center for Academic
Achievement

As activism enveloped Western University’s campus during the 1960s and
1970s, numerous changes were sought by students and faculty of color. Among
these changes was the implementation of ethnic studies centers, which were
established in 1968 (Memo, Chancellor’s Office, 1971). Another program which
emerged from this time period was a student program named Community Education
Project, the precursor to the Center for Academic Achievement, which constitutes
WU’s race based student services.
According to the Western University Research Project, which documents
WU Chican@ student activism, the Community Education Project was created in
1968 by Chican@ and African American student and faculty activists. The Mexican
American Student Union (MASU) and the Black Student Union (BSU) spearheaded
efforts to create the program. The Community Education Project attempted to
address access issues for socioeconomically disadvantaged Chican@ and African
American students. Eventually, the program expanded to include American Indian,
and Asian American students
32
. According to a Community Education Project

32
Interestingly, Asian American and American Indian students’ participation in the Community
Education Project was omitted by the Western University Research Project’s in its account of CEP’s
history. These students’ participation was furthermore omitted by Heather, a counselor who has been
at the Center for Academic Achievement for close to 20 years. I would contend that such “filtering”
of history is a result of the tendency to view movements of the sixties and seventies as the domain of
African Americans and Chican@s. Meanwhile, the participation of Asian Americans, American
142
memo entitled “A Brief History of the Community Education Project” (1971, p.31),
the program aimed to
1. close the gap between the University and extremely disadvantaged
minority communities.
2. meet the needs of minority students (not necessarily change them)
3. have an immediate and long-range socio-economic impact upon minority
communities
4. extend the university’s commitment beyond the level of financial aid and
tutorial support for students
5. bring more disadvantaged minority students to the campus
6. develop the leadership potential and skills of minority students in order
that they be prepared to serve their communities.
7. provide minority students with an academic program which develops
skills, ethnic pride, and a positive self image through the study of his
cultural heritage, his history, and his contributions
8. provide a counseling service which is sensitive to the students’
backgrounds, needs, and life styles
9. develop the basic skills in language, math, science, and social studies
necessary for the student to survive in the University.

The memo goes on to state that students with the least educational opportunities”
(1971, p.31 - 32) were recruited for the program, such as
a. those in dead-end positions with family responsibilities
b. high school drop-outs who are most mature as opposed to seventeen and
eighteen year olds
c. those with the greatest financial need
d. those individuals aware of the ghetto problems and needs, preferably
possessing leadership ability which enables them to make an immediate
impact upon their community.
e. those individuals residing in the minority area whose continuing
involvement with the community will have an immediate effect and
influence in the area.
f. those who would most benefit from a change in environment as a result of
self-defeating influences.

Indians, and other racial minorities has consistently been neglected, which negatively impacts
students in the post-Civil Rights era. More specifically, students of all racial groups may have little to
no knowledge regarding Asian American, American Indian, etc. involvement in Civil Rights and
cultural nationalist movements. This ignorance then helps to confirm stereotypes, such as the belief
that Asian Americans have not experienced significant racism or are a-political, in spite of evidence to
the contrary (Kim and Lewis, 1994; Lai, Tam Cho, Kim, Takeda, 2001; Lien, Collet, Wong, and
Ramakrishnan, 2001; Miller, 1992).
143
The memo further states that applicants should possess the qualities of motivation,
responsibility, critical and analytical thinking ability, leadership ability, self-
confidence, community and/or group involvement, and maturity. The program was
unconventional when choosing students for the program. For example, “Being a
leader of a street gang could be evidence of strong leadership potential, an important
selection factor” (Greenwood, 1971, p.28).
The program brought 185 students to campus for an academic and cultural
program designed to prepare them for higher education. Heather, a CAA Counselor,
described the program as “a year long program where they took one academic course
but then more culturally enriching courses for themselves to transfer into WU or
maybe another university.” Furthermore, Community Education Project provided
“tutoring, personal counseling, instruction in verbal and quantitative skills, and in
social studies for students.” With its holistic approach and emphasis on recognizing
and incorporating students’ racial identities into programming, Community
Education Project distinguished itself from other programs servicing minority
students, such as the Educational Opportunities Program (EOP), “which enrolled
lesser risk low-income and minority youths and was not broken down into specific
ethnic sections” (Greenwood, 1971, p.).
As the Community Education Project expanded from a program serving
African American and Chican@ students, to one including Asian American and
Indian students, problems arose regarding the program’s ability to serve a multiracial
population. A Community Education Project memo notes that following the addition
144
of programming for Asian American and Indian students, a crisis situation soon
arose in which it became
evident that the staff and administration of the Chicano and Black
components had neither the time nor ability to meet the needs of the Asian
and Indian students. As a result of a nearly disastrous struggle, both
components were given additional staff support and, therefore, the
opportunity to work out viable programs (1970, p.3).

These early difficulties illustrate the internal conflict which often plagues race based
student services and is exacerbated by institutional marginality. In this case,
Community Education Project administrators found that adding Asian American and
Indian components to the program was not as simple as they thought it would be,
soon discovering that these communities had different needs than African American
and Chican@ students. Furthermore, initially inadequate funding of the program
only worsened the inability of Community Education Project to fully meet the needs
of all students of color.
It is significant to note that CEP, in spite of its troubles, was quite progressive
when it came to interpreting students’ racial experiences and identities. For
example, according to a midyear evaluation of the Asian Community Education
Project (Ong, Maniwa, Matsuoka, and Tom, 1971), the Asian American component
of CEP included seven ESL Chinese immigrants, three bilingual Chinese Americans,
six Japanese Americans, two ESL Japanese immigrants, two Filipino immigrants,
one ESL Korean immigrant, four Eurasians (Filipino-European, Japanese-European,
Chinese-European, Chinese-Chicano) and one Chicano (“reared by Chinese”).
While the first six groups of students are unsurprising, it is the last two – the four
Eurasians and one Chicano – who reveal CEP’s willingness to challenge racial
145
identity boundaries in an effort to fully understand students’ racial experiences and
serve the most disadvantaged of students.
The Community Education Project is a potent historical example of race
based student programming which functions as a localized racial project on a
university campus. In particular, the unconventional criterion utilized by the
Community Education Project to select its students, as well as its “radical”
curriculum and philosophy about race and student success, represented a challenge to
Western University’s typical racial ideologies, which did not view gang membership
as a leadership quality or an overtly non-Eurocentric curriculum as true “education.”
The Community Education Project demanded that students of color be represented
on campus and that they receive the appropriate resources necessary for academic
success. Moreover, the Community Education Project, for better or worse,
participated in reifying post-Civil Rights monoracial formations on campus by
organizing its program around the racial identities and categories of Chicano,
African American, Asian American, and American Indian. Furthermore, like too
many revolutionary race based programs and organizations of its time, Community
Education Project soon found itself as the victim of internal conflict within its own
ranks, which in turn resulted in attacks from outsiders seeking to dismantle the
program.
Black Conflict and the Demise of the Community Education Project
Not long after its inception, the Community Education Project, along with the
Black Student Union, became mired in the frequently violent ridden politics of the
late 1960s. Four prominent Black Panthers, Bunchy Carter, John Huggins,
146
Geronimo Pratt and Elaine Brown, enrolled in Community Education Project. At the
time, WU was attempting to determine who would be appointed as the head of the
new Black Studies Program and conflict over who should be appointed the new head
soon arose between the Black Panthers and their rival, the US organization, headed
by Maulana (Ron) Karenga, best known as the creator of Kwanzaa (Mishory, 2005).
The Panthers and US were two Black Power / Black nationalist
organizations, which gained strength in the late 1960s and offered a more militant
philosophy of race than the Civil Rights movement. US was established in Southern
California in 1965. The organization’s name “stands for black people: the pronoun
‘US’ as opposed to ‘them:’ the white oppressors” (Brown, 2003, p.2). Headed by
Karenga, the organization is based on theories of Black cultural nationalism,
emphasizing Afrocentrism and Pan-Africanism
33
. The Black Panthers were
established in Oakland in 1966 by Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale (Lazerow and
Williams, 2006). The Panthers’ philosophy was one of Black self / community

33
According to www.us-organization.org, (accessed May, 2007) US’ philosophy “is Kawaida which
is an ongoing synthesis of the best of African thought and practice in constant exchange with the
world. One of its central tenets is that culture is the fundamental source of a people's identity, purpose
and direction. Thus, Kawaida is, in fact, a continuous dialog with African culture, asking questions
and seeking answers to central and enduring concerns of the African and human community. At the
heart of this project is the continuing quest to define and become the best of what it means to be both
African and human in the fullest sense. This involves an ongoing search for models of excellence and
paradigms of possibilities in every area of human life, but especially in the seven core areas of
culture: history; spirituality and ethics; social organization; political organization; economic
organization; creative production (art, music, literature, dance, etc.) and ethos. It also involves
creating a language and logic of liberation, one of opposition and affirmation, and a corresponding
liberational practice to create a just and good society and pose an effective paradigm of mutually
beneficial human relations and human possibility.” Furthermore, the organization emphasizes
“Nguzo Saba,” or the “Seven Principles” which are “Umoja (Unity), Kujichagulia (Self-
Determination); Ujima (Collective Work and Responsibility); Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics); Nia
(Purpose); Kuumba (Creativity) and Imani (Faith).”
147
empowerment
34
. In spite of shared political interests, US and the Panthers soon
became rivals (Ngozi-Brown, 1997). One point of disagreement revolved around the
role of Afrocentrism in Black politics – for US, Afrocentrism was central to
strengthening the Black community, while the Panthers viewed Afrocentrism as a
distraction. US and the Black Panthers’ tumultuous relationship included allegations
and counter-allegations of cooperation with the FBI’s Cointelpro (Counter
Intelligence Program), which under the direction of J. Edgar Hoover aimed to disrupt
the activities of reactionary organizations and persons, ranging from Martin Luther
King, to the Socialist Workers Party (Cunningham, 2003; Harris, 2000).
In January of 1969, Western University’s BSU meet to discuss the conflict
over the Black Studies Program. Black Panthers Bunchy Carter and John Huggins
were present at the second of two meetings and were shot and killed in a hallway of
Rice Hall by George and Larry "Ali" Stiner, members of US
35
. The murder of Carter

34
According to www.blackpanther.org (accessed May, 2007), the current official website for the
Black Panthers, the following 10 points guide the organization:
1. We want freedom. We want power to determine the destiny of our Black and oppressed
communities
2. We want full employment for our people.
3. We want an end to the robbery by the capitalists of our Black and oppressed communities.
4. We want decent housing, fit for the shelter of human beings.
5. We want decent education for our people that exposes the true nature of this decadent
American society. We want education that teaches us our true history and our role in
present-day society.
6. We want completely free health care for all Black and oppressed people.
7. We want an immediate end to police brutality and murder of Black people, other people of
color, all oppressed people inside the United States.
8. We want an immediate end to all wars of aggression.
9. We want freedom for all Black and oppressed people now held in U.S. federal, state, county,
city, and military prisons and jails. We want trials by a jury of peers for all persons charged
with so-called crimes under the laws of this country.
10. We want land, bread, housing education, clothing, justice, peace, and people’s community
control of modern technology.
35
When I began my archival research, I sent a list of topics in which I was interested to the head
archivist at WU. Included on my list were the firing of the Black feminist radical and the murders of
the Black Panthers. Upon my arrival at the WU archives, the archivist, in reference to these two
148
and Huggins directed an unwelcome spotlight onto the Community Education
Project, and according to documents from the Chancellor’s Office, compelled the
university “to redefine the interests of the Regents in examining and evaluating the
off-campus behavior of students, particularly where such behavior is subject to
prosecution and action by civil law enforcement authorities” (Scully, 1969, p.2).
After the killings of Carter and Huggins in 1969, the Community Education
Project Program was dismantled in 1971 for several different reasons. First, it was
unclear how successful the program really was, as no exhahaustive studies had been
conducted. Accounts of successes and failures tended to be qualitative in nature,
although one program evaluation did find that 46% of students enrolled in the
Community Education Project were no longer registered at WU two years later. It
was found that those students who did not continue on had severe academic
problems, yet a more complex explanation for the low retention rate of students was
not given by the study (Greenwood, 1971). Evidence of success and progress put
forth by CEP itself was an improvement of G.P.A.s among Indian students, the
creation of new courses focusing on the American Indian experience, including
“American Indian Policy,” “Urban Indian Problems,” and “Tribal American History
and Origins” (Brief Analysis of the Success of the American Indian Component of
the Community Education Program in the School Year 1970-1971, p.2).

topics, stated, “We only have a few documents about those two incidents. I really think that the
Chancellor’s office is hanging on to a lot of those materials because they are sensitive.” The
archivist’s comments speak to the difficulties of obtaining an accurate history of an institution from
archival materials. While some might consider archival materials to be “objective,” we must
remember that archival materials are “filtered,” both inadvertently and intentionally by institutional
agents who may have a vested interest in how researchers may portray the institutions. Furthermore,
WU’s protection of historical documents regarding these incidents suggests that the university is not
as comfortable with its racial history as it proclaims to be.
149
Second, given what some perceived to be the high failure rate of the
Community Education Project, the selection process of the program was questioned,
as well as its financial costs. A coordinator of Community Education Project
expressed doubt about the selection criteria, arguing that “some in the program could
have succeeded at WU without Community Education Project” (Greenwood, 1971,
p.28). However, this opinion was countered by the views of many Community
Education Project teachers, who felt that the CEP’s selection process was invaluable
for helping the most disadvantaged students of color (Open Letter to Chancellor,
CEP Staff, Students, and their Ethnic Communities, 1971). Furthermore, the same
Community Education Project coordinator who expressed concern regarding the
program’s selection criteria, also stated that he felt that given the money being spent
on the program, it should have been producing more successes (Greenwood, 1971).
On the other hand, many Community Education Project proponents argued the
opposite – that the program had been clearly undefunded. The Vice Chancellor
voiced his opinion regarding funding, stating in a meeting with Indian students that
efforts to revamp the program were not synonymous with decreased funding,
contending that such beliefs were rooted in “rumors” (Minutes of first Indian
community meeting with Vice Chancellor, 1971).
Third, the university wanted to consolidate all university services for
“disadvantaged” students underneath the Undergraduate Student Development
Services (USDS) (Memo, Chancellor’s Office, 1971). This umbrella office was
designed to manage all facets of disadvantaged students’ experiences, including
recruitment, admission, counseling, and tutoring. In contrast to the Community
150
Education Project program, USDS did not have ethnic specific units, although race
was viewed as a component of a student’s disadvantaged status. Moreover, the Vice
Chancellor “proclaimed that where ethnic identity comes into play is in counseling.
He said that’s the one place we must be certain we’ll have people the kids will
identify with” (Minutes of first Indian community meeting with Vice Chancellor,
1971, p.2). The university argued that the revamped program would be able to serve
a larger and broader cross section of students (Greenwood, 1971).
Community Education Project administrators, staff, students, and their
supporters were deeply angered by the potential dismantling of the program, viewing
it as an assault on students of color right to self determination, an ideological
sentiment rooted in the Third World Movement (Open Letter to Chancellor, CEP
Staff, Students, and their Ethnic Communities, 1971). Community Education Project
supporters contended that the university had always been hostile to the program,
alleging that
Budget cuts were made, original commitments were withdrawn, and
administrative decisions were imposed…the University has continually
ignored the CEP staff’s recommendations regarding the needs and direction
of the program. While the Administration repeatedly assures us of its
commitment to the continuing development of the CEP, at every step it
attempts to undermine the original intent and ideal of the program…the CEP
was always tied to the university in the manner of a colonial territory to an
imperialist power (A Brief History of the Community Education Project,
1970, p.32).

Such comments drew upon the Third World Movement and cultural nationalist
ideologies to expose ideological fissures between Community Education Project and
WU’s administration, and the concomitant suffering of students of color.
151
Community Education Project supporters also criticized the committee
established to determine the future of the program. Community Education Project
staff and students made the following criticisms of the committee:
1. The Community Education Project staff is not well represented on the
committee.
a. There are no Asians on the committee.
b. In some cases persons with greater experience in the program were
overlooked.
2. Members on the committee from the Community Education Project Staff
have little voting power on the committee. This negates the principle of self-
determination for the Community Education Project Program.
3. The process by which committee appointments were made is highly
discriminatory. The committee members were hand picked on an arbitrary
basis, or its seems that the possible dissenters were excluded.
4. The chairman of the committee is white and has been noted by members of
the committee to be insensitive to minority needs (Minutes of Meeting
Between Vice Chancellor and Representatives of the CEP Staff and Students,
1971).

In a letter to the Vice Chancellor directing the restructuring of the program,
Community Education Project backers voiced the aforementioned concerns and
argued that the university was antagonistic to and ignorant of minority students’ true
needs. The rage is palapable in this letter, as the writers conclude by asserting that
the Vice Chancellor
36
is a “’hatchet man’ for minority programs” and that his actions
“amount to the assasination of the Community Education Project Program” (Minutes
of Meeting Between Vice Chancellor and Representatives of the CEP Staff and
Students, 1971, p.3). The Indian community in particular seemed to clash with the
Vice Chancellor over assesments of student success via CEP. In a document entitled

36
Other correspondance attacking the Vice Chancellor included a letter from an Ad Hoc Committee
for Western University and the California Native American Community (1971) which alleged that
there were no Native American faculty or administrators at WU and that Native American students
made up the fewest number of undergradautes when compared to other minorities.

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“Brief Analysis of the Success of the American Indian Component,” Indian CEPP
staff (1971, p.1) alleged that
While reviewing the present Community Education Project teaching staff, Dr.
Johnson and a non-Indian CEP staff member happened into a discussion of
the Indian component. During the course of this discussion, Johnson is
reported to have commented that the Indian students do alright in Community
Education Project courses, but when they get into regular University courses,
they flunk out. The CEP teacher advised Dr. Johnson that it is unfair to
discredit the whole Indian component due to their first year’s problems.

Community Education Project backers were particularly embittered by what
they viewed as the new program’s minimization of race, while proponents of the new
program argued that consolidation was needed in order to prevent racial and ethnic
separatism on campus. Concerns were also expressed that some Community
Education Project instructors, particularly American Indian and Asian American
instructors
37
, would be dropped from the new program. Finally, Community
Education Project supporters worried that the new program, in spite of a larger
number of student participants, would ultimately exclude the extremely high risk
students who were served by Community Education Project. Jim Ikeda, a
Community Education Project Instructor, expressed his concern regarding this
matter, stating, “’WU has fallen prey to its desire to deal only with the very
successful candidate and has lost its courage in trying to develop a uniquely
progressive program.’” Instead of incorporating Community Education Project into
USDS, Community Education Project students and staff recommended creating an
institutional link between Community Education Project and “WU’s ethnic studies
centers and Department of Urban Affairs.”

37
Archival documents did not indicate why Asian American and American Indian instructors would
be particularly prone to losing their jobs.
153
The conflict regarding the potential dismantling of Community Education
Project is representative of dueling racial projects and racial formations which are
still permeating institutions of higher education. While Community Education
Project was a cutting edge, explicitly race based program which sought out students
who would be considered “undesirable” by traditional higher education standards,
the potential replacement for CEP was seemingly less reactionary, combining all of
the race specific units into one program and reaching out to a broad range of
underserved students, not just the most marginalized and disadvantaged of minority
students. Interestingly, from the nineties to the present, the debate over affirmative
action has taken similar form. Proponents have argued that students’ racial identities
are crucial to their experiences and that African American and Latin@ students in
particular face racially specific disadvantages which should be taken into account by
colleges and universities. In contrast, the most extreme and conservative of
opponents have contended that affirmative action is antithetical to the democratic
and meritocratic tenets of U.S. society. Other opponents take a more measured
approach, acknowledging that race can make a difference in people’s educational
experiences, but that race should only be one factor in considering a student’s
advantages and disadvantages and that affirmative action oriented programs should
reach a more economically diverse crop of students, including poor whites. While
there are certainly differences between the contemporary affirmative action debate
and the debate over the future of the Community Education Project in the early
1970s, key similarities can be observed, namely the conflict between those who
advocate for the explicit inclusion of very specific race based programming in higher
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education and those who are more comfortable with a nuanced, flexible approach to
race, in which race and racial concerns are one of many components of programming
for disadvantaged students. Such a conflict fundamentally revolves around the
appropriate role of race and racial identity in formulating and instituting educational
progrramming.
In spite of the fervent objections raised by many Community Education
Project students and staff, the program was ultimately dismantled, and in 1971 the
Center for Academic Achivement took its place. Yet just as Community Education
Project was a source of highly charged racial politics, CAA has also experienced its
share of conflict, including conflict with its own students.
CAA in the 1980s and 1990s: Conflict with the University and Student Groups
Since its establishment in 1971, the Center for Academic Achievement has
continued to be embroiled in conflict. During the 1980s and 1990s, CAA clashed
with both Western University administrators and student groups on campus.
Echoing the conflict over the dismantling of the Community Education
Project in the late sixties, the organization and structure of the Center for Academic
Achievement came up for debate in the early 1980s. In 1980 the Vice Chancellor
advocated for the “reorganization of student services” (Arboleda, 1980). According
to a campus newspaper article, the Vice Chancellor stated that “CAA has been
functional and that the commitment to it is continuous. However, he feels that CAA
must be assimilated into the mainstream of university admissions course planning
and, therefore, CAA could undergo some structural changes” (Arboleda, 1980).
Unsurprisingly, such calls for “assimilation,” were alarming to CAA students, staff,
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and administrators, who cautioned that “Any restructuring of CAA should be done
with the expressed purpose of being more responsive to the particular needs of CAA
students” (Arboleda, 1980). This conflict was both ideological and material in
nature. That is, in seeking “assimilation,” the Vice Chancellor implied that CAA and
its students could be made to be the “same” as the larger institution. Yet for CAA
and its constituents such an implication was unacceptable, as it was fundamentally
contrary to CAA’s ideology of self determination for Third World students.
Unfortunately, archival documents do not fully explain how this conflict was
resolved. However, given that documents from the 1980s onwards do not indicate
any major changes for CAA, with the exception of the implementation of Proposition
209, it appears that CAA proponents were able to squelch the efforts of the Vice
Chancellor to restructure CAA in the early eighties.
Following the conflict between the Center for Academic Achievement and
the Vice Chancellor in 1980, CAA experienced just a few peaceful years before
conflict once again consumed CAA. This time the dissension was substantial and
eventually resulted in significant changes. In 1986, university administrators
proposed that CAA be moved to a different building on campus (Mendez, 1986).
What might appear to be a relatively benign issue exploded and ballooned into a
controversy about larger issues, in particular, the university’s treatment of students of
color and affirmative action policies.
The administration argued moving CAA to a different building would give
CAA much needed space for its expanding tutorial programs, but students and CAA
staff viewed the move as initiated by an administration unresponsive to student needs
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and indicative of the university’s disregard for the history of CAA, given that the
building in which CAA was housed at the time had been the site of the Black Panther
killings (Adams, 1986; Greer, 1984). Furthermore, CAA students argued that the
new building was an “inferior location that is less visible” (Adams, 1986, p.10). In
response, the Chancellor attempted to assure students of color that the university was
committed to both affirmative action and CAA, stating
I want people to understand that we have accomplished a great deal….The
composition of this campus in terms of ethnic representation is dramatically
different than what it was 5 years ago, 10 years ago or 15 years
ago….There’s a lot of talk every year that CAA and related programs are
going to be gutted. That has never happened. This is not going to happen
next year and it’s not going to happen as long as the need exists (Adams,
1986, p.10)

Student activists responded to the Chancellor’s statements with derision, arguing that
the Chancellor “has historically ignored and looked down upon students. He does
not believe that we are intelligent enough and bright enough and militant enough to
fight for what we want” (Mendez, 1986, p.2). Leaders of the Black Student Union,
MEChA, and the Asian Assembly argued that the location of the Center for
Academic Achievement “was an issue of Affirmative Action and that all Third
World students should take a collective position and mobilize around the issue”
(Mendez, 1986).
In order to advance their cause, students from the Black Student Union,
MEChA, and the Asian Coalition staged a rally in protest and marched to the
Provost’s office where a small window was smashed and a letter demanding that the
university commit to keeping CAA in its current location, was left (Mendez, 1986).
The protestors marched on to the Faculty Center where a small scuffle broke out
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between demonstrators and faculty who did not realize the demonstrators were WU
students.
In spite of the vast attention given to CAA students involved in the protest,
there is evidence that not all CAA students supported the actions of the
demonstrators. In an op-ed piece entitled, “Inappropriate protest,” Nathaniel Wong
(1986), a CAA student who was participating in a math tutorial at the time of the
protests, recounted the belligerence of the protestors who stormed the math lab:
The Math Lab, being completely stunned by their violent yelling, did
nothing. At that point, more protestors poured in and demanded that we all
go, completely disrupting all tutoring sessions…A few minutes later, Tanya
[a student from BSU] decided to get up on a table and start screaming about
how they fought for Rice and that math tutors were forcing tutees to become
detached from and their culture by preaching objectivity in math/science
tutorial sessions.

The student goes on to say when he tried to question the protestors, he was called “’a
banana.’” According to a timeline recounting the CAA crisis in 1986, in response to
the protestors, Math tutors boycotted CAA planning meetings and “declare[d]
themselves autonomous” from the program (A Brief Synopsis of the Events
Pertaining to the Current Crisis in the Center for Academic Achievement and the
Freshmen and Transfer Summer Programs Component, 1986). Precisely why there
was a divide between Math tutors and the rest of CAA is unclear from documents,
but Wong’s editorial seems to suggest that the Math tutors and their students were
more politically conservative than other CAA students. Moreover, the CAA
protestors appeared to dislike the Math program’s purported complicity in
maintaining the marginalization of students of color. Interestingly, this sort of
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dissension within CAA reflects larger, historic conflict between the liberally oriented
Civil Rights movement and the more radical, leftist cultural nationalist movements.
Following the protest the organizations involved were put on probation and
the director of CAA took “an unscheduled ‘3-month’ leave of absence.” His
replacement states that CAA is in crisis and out of control and that he is there to
restore order. Predictably, students view him as a dictator and puppet of the
administration, particularly when he asserts that student input will only be taken in
an advisory capacity. At this time, the Provost also issues a memo to the staff
members of CAA, stating,
I am considerably distressed by events of this spring. There have been
actions connected with CAA which threaten our delivery of educational
services to our students. Political or ideological differences will not be
permitted to interfere with our ability to offer the highest quality academic
services to our students (1986, p.1).

In response, the staff of CAA sent a letter to the Vice Provost, stating,
You speak in your memo of the ‘delivery of educational services to our
students;’ in our view, there is no way to ‘deliver’ education to a student.
Rather, education is by definition a two-way process in which students are
encouraged to engage ideas…Such a view…is especially important in
meeting the needs of Center for Academic Achievement students. CAA
students have traditionally been denied access to the social and political
structures in American society, and it is vital that we challenge them to grasp
the impact of this denial on their education…Finally, we question your
assertion that the administration has been supportive of the Center for
Academic Achievement since its inception. To our minds, nothing could be
further from the truth (1986, p.1).

The Chancellor of WU also continued to take part in the fray, making several
controversial statements about the status of minorities at WU, including
“’Affirmative action programs weren’t created because of political activism,’” “’and
they’re not going to be terminated for lack of political activism’” and “’there are not
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enough people (within minority groups) who have completed the educational
program to make them eligible’” for hiring as faculty members (Adams, 1986, p.10).
Conflict between CAA and the university administration continued into the
early fall of 1986. During this time the External Affairs Director and Affirmative
Action Director of the Undergraduate Students Association sent a scathing letter to
the University of California Regents, accusing Western University of being hostile to
the mission and interests of CAA:
The campus administration claims to support CAA, yet its actions seem to
belie this. These actions include: threats to withhold, and the actual
reallocation of, funding from CAA, open intimidation of so-called activist
students and professional employees regarding their job security and a
proposed move of CAA from its current location…to the basement of Sutter
Hall, which the University acknowledges is termite infested. In addition, the
Administration has established a virtual dictatorship…representative student
input has been completely excluded from decision making by the College of
Letters of Science Provost (Ussery and Bolado, 1986, p.1).

Taking their complaints to the UC Regents reflected the deep anger felt by CAA and
its allies. By the time the aforementioned letter was written and sent, the controversy
which began with the administration’s suggestion that CAA be moved had been
raging for four months. As a result, unlike the 1980 controversy which ultimately
did not manifest any material changes, the outcomes of the 1986 conflict were
notable.
There were two key results of the 1986 conflict. First, CAA was able to
remain in its original building, and it remains there to this day. This was a major
victory for CAA and illustrated the power of student activism to alter policies on
university campuses.
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Second, because some student groups felt alienated by the Center for
Academic Achievement’s new administration, they ultimately broke away from
CAA and created its own student run retention center. Students at the time were at
odds with CAA’s administration and staff and felt that student power and input into
programming was not as strong as it should be. According to a campus newspaper
article, “Representatives from Black Students Alliance, MEChA – the
Chicano/Latino organization – and Asian Coalition met with [the Vice Provost] for
approximately two hours and expressed their opposition to [the Vice provost’s]
decision to accept student input only in an ‘advisory’ capacity” (Mendez, 1986,
p.19). Students argued that
CAA will fail without more student input. Our goals as Third World student
groups is to gain student input in the policies that affects us through CAA
given that CAA has failed under the direction of [the existing Vice Provost
(Mendez, 1986, p.19).

Students thus felt that they were not being adequately consulted regarding the future
direction of CAA. Coupled with concern over the administration’s appointment of a
replacement director for CAA, this feeling eventually manifested a division between
CAA and some minority student groups. For one reason or another, some students
had come to view CAA as part of a repressive administration. Yet the veracity of
such an assessment can be questioned. Heather, a CAA Counselor who has been on
the job for seventeen years, stated,
the students wanted us to be unconditional advocates for them. They wanted
us to always meet the demands and desires of the students. But, you know,
of course, this just wasn’t realistic. As much as we are advocates for the
students, there are still procedures to follow. And just because students want
something or demand something doesn’t mean it’s the best thing.

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However, regardless of whether the students’ claims were valid or not, their
dissatisfaction resulted in tangible changes on campus. More specifically, students’
dissatisfaction with CAA prompted them to create the Center for Student Success
(CSS), which oversees various race and ethnic based retention programs run by the
Black Student Union, MEChA, the American Indian Student Union, the Pilipino
Student Union, and the Southeast Asian Union. All of these programs are designed to
meet the retention needs of their particular communities and to address students’
challenges, particularly that of academic under preparation, financial difficulty,
cultural and social isolation. Today, both CAA and the Center for Student Success
appear to co-exist peacefully, albeit at arm’s length, despite overlapping missions,
activities, and student populations. CAA, by its own estimates, has attempted to
foster a healthier relationship with the CSS by sending a CAA counselor over to CSS
weekly to work with CSS students. However, some CSS constituents are still openly
hostile to CAA, such as the Southeast Asian student component, which on its website
(accessed May, 2007) contends that CAA has not met the needs of the Southeast
Asian student population.
The conflict between CAA and the students who eventually established the
CSS exemplifies the larger divide between students and administration, which often
have interests which are diametrically opposed, and the internally diverse nature of
minority communities, which are too frequently perceived as homogeneous. First,
the contentious relationship between CAA and CSS reveals the reality of race based
programming once it is institutionalized. In particular, it is important to recognize
that the creation, implementation, and institutionalization of race based programming
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does not signal students’ complete satisfaction with the university’s handling of
racial matters, nor complete acceptance of race based student services by the larger
university. In this case, students felt that CAA had become “too” much part of the
institution, that it had betrayed students by not being stronger advocates for students.
On the other hand, CAA administrators and staff felt pressured and obligated to work
within the constraints of university policies to sustain their survival and prove their
worth. This often leaves student services like CAA, as well as other racialized
programs such as ethnic studies, in a tenuous position – they are under immense
pressure to please both students and administrators.
Second, the splinter between CAA and CSS illuminates the complex internal
workings of minority groups and organizations. Groups and organizations consisting
of people of color are at times viewed as homogeneous in their ideologies and
interests. However, even a brief perusal of U.S.’ racial history indicates this is not
the case. From the ethnic diversity of African slaves, to the division between
Japanese Americans and Filipin@ Americans regarding the Asian American label, it
is evident that communities of color are not homogeneous entities. Thus,
particularly in light of the power imbalance and generational differences between
students and CAA administrators, it should not necessarily come as a surprise that
the two groups found themselves at odds, enough so that a segment of students
decided to part ways with CAA. Such events illustrate the intricacies of racial
projects and identity politics, in which those who we may assume should be allies –
students of color and administrators of color – become adversaries within institutions
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of education even when these same institutions have seemingly made efforts to better
integrate students of color.
The Center for Academic Achievement Today
As part of the widely renowned and regarded University of California
system, Western University has in both historic and contemporary times, been
directly enmeshed in social conflict revolving around issues of race, ranging from the
administration’s response to the Civil Rights movement, to the shooting of two Black
Panthers on campus, to the debate over affirmative action, ethnic studies programs,
and admission of students of color. Much like California University and Bay
University, WU prides itself on its diversity and utilizes it as a selling point. Yet
while it may be viewed as the most historically progressive of the three institutions,
WU now finds itself in a difficult quandary when it comes to dealing with issues of
race and racial identity, as it has been crippled by the legal constraints imposed by
Proposition 209. As a consequence, colorblindness, as a racial project, has
fundamentally shaped every aspect of CAA, including its philosophy and the
students it serves.
According to Proposition 209, while race may still be considered in the
formulation of policies and programming, it can no longer be used as strict criteria
for admission to public universities or for allocation of resources. Western
University and CAA have in short, become victims of the neo-conservative, anti-
affirmative action movement which took hold in the 1990s and has continued to the
present day under the leadership of academics and activists, from Linda Chavez to
Dinish D’Souza. Yet a close examination of CAA clearly illuminates the fallacy of
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colorblindness – more specifically, it is evident that the colorblind policies of CAA
do not actually produce or manifest colorblindness on campus. Instead, the terrain of
WU and CAA, as well as students’ lived experiences, are decidedly “raced.”
In the following discussion I argue that race based student services at
Western University have been silenced in significant ways by the racial project of
Prop 209 and associated political discourses of colorblindness. The Center for
Academic Achievement has been crippled by 209 and is unable to reach the students
that it used to – primarily Black students. Thus, today, in the post-Civil Rights era,
CAA is struggling with some basic civil rights issues that many people consider
resolved – such as African American students’ access to higher education.
Furthermore, give the forces of colorblindness, counselors seem to struggle to
directly address issues of race among their students, and the program as a whole
must continually resist institutional marginality. In order to advance this argument, I
provide an overview of CAA’s organizational structure and programming,
philosophy, students served, and relationship with the larger university.
Organizational Structure & Programming
Housed under the Division of Undergraduate Education, CAA includes
several programs, and as such, it can be considered an “umbrella” student services
unit. The Division of Undergraduate Education is guided by five major goals:
1. To ensure standards of excellence across the undergraduate curriculum;
2. To create and administer innovative academic programs that foster
interdisciplinary study;
3. To support a diverse population of undergraduate students in their pursuit of
academic excellence;
4. To assist faculty and graduate student instructors in the improvement and
assessment of teaching and learning;
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5. To promote WU access and academic success for students across the State's
increasingly diverse populations.

CAA thus aims to help the larger university fulfill these goals by providing a
range of services and programming to disadvantaged and underserved populations.
Counseling Services is designed to successfully guide students through their
undergraduate career, the Western University – Community College Alliance aims to
increase the numbers of underrepresented and underserved transfers to WU from
local two-year institutions, the Graduate Preparation Program helps to prepare
students for professional life and graduate school through the provision of service
learning and research opportunities, the First Summer Program helps to ease the
transition into WU by allowing freshmen and transfer students to come to WU in the
summer and complete two to three academic courses, Transfer Student Assistance
provides counseling and mentoring to transfer students, and the College Goals
Program assists disadvantaged students from local schools with preparing for
admission to WU. CAA is headed by an Associate Vice Provost, and associate
directors and coordinators oversee each of the different programs. Counselors,
tutors, administrative assistants, and student workers comprise the remaining CAA
staff.
It is important to note here that none of the programs which CAA oversees
are explicitly based on race, and CAA’s promotional documents and website rarely
use terms such as “race,” “minority,” or “people of color,” when describing their
mission, focus, and targeted student population. Instead, words such as
“underserved,” and in particular “underrepresented,” appear to function as code
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words for racial minorities. In written descriptions of their programming, CAA only
directly references race twice. First, CAA is broadly defined as a “multiracial
program.” Second, race, and more specifically, racial identity, is discussed as it
pertains to the McNair Scholars program, which is part of CAA’s Graduate
Preparation Program (GPP) and helps prepare students to pursue doctoral degrees.
According to the GPP’s website (accessed May, 2007), students must fall into one of
the following categories in order to qualify for the McNair program:
• Low-Income* and First-Generation college student (neither parent has a
Bachelor's degree)**
• African American
• Latino/a
• Native American
• (the federal government does NOT consider Pacific Islander or Filipina/o
students as "underrepresented in higher education")
The fact that race is not mentioned in the descriptions of CAA’s programming might
seem perplexing and illogical given that the majority of CAA students are people of
color. Yet the neglect and exclusion of race is unsurprising when one considers the
history of CAA and the current political climate and treatment of race. As
mentioned in the historical account of CAA’s creation, CAA emerged from a
program named the Community Education Project, which utilized race as a criterion
for admission to the program (more specifically, a student had to be African
American, Chican@, Asian American, or American Indian). When the Community
Education Project was dismantled, it was vigorously opposed in large part because
the new program did not include race specific and race based programming. Hence,
the de-racialization of CAA has a long history, beginning in 1971. This process of
de-racialization has only been exacerbated, and one might even venture to say
167
completed, by the legal constraints put forth by Proposition 209. And, as I will show
in the following discussion, ideologies of colorblindness and Proposition 209 have
not only greatly impacted the ways in which CAA is formally described by the
institution, such forces have also shaped the student population served by CAA, as
well as CAA’s philosophy, policies, and everyday practices.
Students Served
The Center for Academic Achievement seeks to service first generation, low
income, and underrepresented students, who are perceived to face distinctive
challenges in college, including financial difficulties, the demands of family
obligations, academic underpreparedness, and social isolation. Students are admitted
to the program in one of two ways. The first way is through admissions. On the
application to WU, students are asked if they are interested in a program for students
from “disadvantaged” backgrounds. Admissions evaluates the students who mark
“yes,” and determines the initial pool of students who will become part of CAA. Yet
in interviews with CAA’s director and staff, no one was able to tell me what specific
standards admissions uses in evaluating CAA applicants. For example, while
income is certainly a factor, CAA in itself claims to be unaware of which income
levels qualify a student for CAA.
The second way in which students may become a part of CAA is through an
application process which takes place after students are enrolled in WU. Students
can apply to CAA on their own if they were not originally admitted to the program
by admissions and typically learn about the program “by word of mouth,” according
to the director of CAA. The application to CAA requires students to show how they
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have faced social challenges in their secondary or collegiate experience which may
impede their success. This pool of CAA applicants is then evaluated for admission to
the program by the CAA director and an advisory board of faculty.
With its “official” emphasis on low income, underrepresented students, CAA
seems to follow the philosophy of class based affirmative action proponents, who
contend that students’ economic class, rather than their race, is a more appropriate
and fair means by which to determine disadvantaged status (Cancian, 1998;
Kahlenberg, 1996; Lewis, 1995-1996). Yet the racial make-up of CAA’s student
population highlights the fallacy of treating race and class as if they are separate
entities. The majority of students served by CAA are Latin@, followed by Asian
Pacific Americans, African Americans, and a miniscule number of American
Indians. Given that race is no longer utilized as criterion for admission to CAA, yet
most of its student population still consists of minorities, illustrates that race and
class inequalities remain indelibly intertwined. Moreover, these race and class
inequalities, to which a disproportionate number of African Americans, Asian
Americans, Latin@s, and American Indians are subjected, indicate that the racial
identities of these groups are still ones which are intimately tied to experiences of
oppression.
At the time of data collection, CAA administration and staff could not
provide me with specific percentages for each population. However, administrators
and staff did emphasize in interviews that the racial composition of CAA students
has changed significantly since the passage of Proposition 209 ten years ago. While
race prior to Proposition 209 was utilized as criteria for including students in the
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program, this is no longer the case. As a result of the restrictions the Proposition
placed not only on admissions, but on educational services, CAA has experienced a
significant decline in African American students participating in the program. Part
of this decline is due to the low number of African American admits and enrollees in
the university. In fact, at the time of data collection, controversy exploded at the
university over the low number of African American freshmen – there were only 96
Black freshmen in the 2005 – 2006 school year. Thus, the decline in the CAA
African American student population is in part symptomatic of a larger, university-
wide problem recruiting, admitting, and enrolling African American students. The
problem is further exacerbated by the constraints 209 places on the CAA application
process. Because CAA can no longer use race to help determine which students will
be a part of the program, it cannot automatically admit middle or upper class Black
students as it did before. These students’ chance for admission to the program relies
on their desire and willingness to apply on their own – and this is assuming that they
are aware of the opportunity to apply on their own if they are not admitted by
admissions. Consequently, all of the aforementioned factors have conspired to keep
the CAA Black population low.
In interviews, CAA administration and staff expressed great displeasure with
the decline in African American students and the passage of Proposition 209. As
CAA Counselor Ashley stated, “the decline [of African American students] has been
unbelievable…in a perfect world, colorblindness is ideal, but we don’t live in a
perfect world and resources are not equal at the high school level.” Ashley’s
comments speak to the problematics of privileging class over race in evaluating the
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obstacles a student has faced. In her mind, race and class are inextricably linked, and
African American students are more likely to be socio-economically disadvantaged
because of their race. Moreover, the privileging of class over race assumes that once
Blacks reach middle or upper class status, they do not face racism – an assumption
which research has debunked (Feagin, 2001; Lewis, 1995-1996). Yet CAA
administration and staff clearly disagreed with this assessment, including a high
ranking administrator, who lamented that “some of the [Black] students who could
potentially benefit from the program are not part of it.” Furthermore, Ronald, the
only male African American counselor in CAA, lamented that for African American
students coming to Western University is “more of a culture shock than it used to be”
and that the result is “feelings of isolation.” Ronald personally felt disenchanted by
the low numbers of African Americans at WU given that the university boasts of
notable African American alumni:
It doesn’t seem right given how much work the African American
community has done on the WU campus – we have at least 3 buildings on
campus named after African Americans… it’s weird to say that I can go to ---
-- Hall, but there’s no one in ----- Hall who looks like me. It’s named after
us, but it doesn’t look like it’s for us.

Another CAA counselor echoed Ronald’s dissatisfaction with the university’s
treatment of African Americans, asserting that the director of admissions “has just
said that there’s nothing he can do about it [declining African American admission
rates].” Moreover, many CAA counselors noted that they felt the overall diversity of
WU had been declining. More specifically, counselors asserted that they were
increasingly seeing and working with extremely high achieving students – students
with stellar SAT scores and 4.0+ G.P.A.s. Yet, the counselors observed, there has
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been a corollary decrease in not only African American students, but generally “well
rounded” students of all races – students who are politically active or possess
exceptional leadership qualities.
The scarcity of African American students at Western University is reflective
of larger, ongoing struggles the African American community is facing in the post-
Civil Rights era. Preeminent among these struggles are the difficulties many
American Blacks face in the quest for a quality education. In spite of the great value
placed on education within the Black community and the “victory” of Brown v.
Board of Education, a disproportionate number of African Americans experience sub
par primary and secondary schooling, attend segregated schools, and are unable to
attend college (Anderson and Byrne, 2004). In terms of higher education, these
experiences are now often exacerbated by anti-affirmative policies, which steer a
large segment of African Americans away from attending high caliber universities
(The Journal of Blacks in Higher Education, 2001). As a consequence, programs
like CAA are still struggling to address basic issues of equity for Black students, and
African American students develop identities, which include a fundamental
recognition of their experiences with oppression.
A high ranking CAA administrator, Robert, furthermore voiced concerns
about the effects of the declining African American student population on relations
between African American and Latin@ students. In particular, Robert asserted that
he felt that as the Black population decreased and Latin@ population began to gain
more of a voice and power on campus, Black students were becoming increasingly
resentful:
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The other day I had an interesting conversation with one of the African
American students, and he told me you know, that he felt like when he came
in here that he didn’t recognize anyone here, that he felt like this kind of
programming was created by African Americans but now it’s no longer
theirs.

Robert’s comments speak to the reality that in the post-affirmative action era,
campus race relations are not just about whites and blacks. Increasingly, minority-
minority relations and in particular, struggles for power and resources, are a
fundamental component of campus’ racial climate. Furthermore, particular racial
conflicts, whether between African Americans and Latin@s, or between African
Americans and Asian Americans, are not confined to the college campus and are
reflective of larger societal dynamics in which the growing populations of Asian
Americans and Latin@s are challenging the political power and resources accrued by
African Americans (Alex-Assensoh and Hanks, 2001)
We are thus able to observe that Proposition 209 has had multiple
consequences on CAA and the students it serves. Some of these consequences were
anticipated and were to be expected, most clearly the decline in Black students, while
other consequences are secondary, but potentially just as damaging to the welfare of
students of color, such as conflict between minority populations which may prevent
valuable coalition building in uncertain times. As a result of Prop 209 and the
propagation of the colorblindness racial project, CAA remains focused on
“traditional” and “basic” racial issues, such as access to higher education. As I will
show in Part II and Part III of this dissertation, this focus ultimately robs CAA of the
capacity to address changing racial formations, namely the increasing number of
students claiming non-monoracial identities.
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Philosophy
A Philosophy of Excellence
In addition to affecting CAA’s student population, Proposition 209 has also
had more subtle effects on CAA’s philosophy and mission. On its website, the
following constitutes CAA’s stated philosophy:
WU’s Center for Academic Achievement has a threefold mission: first, to
ensure the academic success, retention, and graduation of all CAA students;
second, to increase the numbers of CAA students entering graduate and
professional schools; and, third, to develop the academic, scientific, political,
economic, and community leadership necessary to lead and transform our
society in the twenty-first century.

Interestingly, in interviews with the director and counselors of the program, when
asked about CAA’s philosophy, less was said about these three specific functions
and instead, the director and counselors tended to rely on a very specific “soundbite”
to summarize the program’s philosophy – “excellence.” In an interview with a high
ranking administrator, he stated that CAA practices a “pedagogy of excellence,” and
throughout interviews counselors stated that CAA possesses a “philosophy of
excellence,” “a model of excellence,” and that students are “pushed to excel.”
In their interviews, counselors very aggressively emphasized that CAA has a
philosophy of excellence, and they admitted that the stress placed on excellence
constituted a calculated attempt to combat widespread perceptions of CAA as a
“remedial” program for minority students. As Jocelyn, a counselor, lamented,
We find ourselves defending [our services] to people on campus because
well, why do you need CAA? A lot of times they’ll say, well is CAA a
remedial program? Is it because these students can’t achieve and that’s why
you need this type of program? You have to say no, it’s because we’re trying
to get these populations out in graduate school, to be in high, visible careers
that will help open the doors for others.
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Given that such questioning is perceived as an attack on CAA and its students, and
that this questioning of CAA’s existence has been ongoing since its establishment,
CAA recently decided to make a concerted effort to change their approach to
servicing students, as well as their image. According to Heather, who has been CAA
counselor for 17 years, “15-10 years ago, there was a real push to get away from
being remedial and instead pushing our students to excellence.”
The propagation of a philosophy of excellence yields interesting
consequences when it comes to confronting and discussing the impact of race on
campus, and more specifically, on CAA students, and can be indirectly linked to the
forces of colorblindness. It is first significant to note that the philosophy of
excellence was formed in response to criticisms of CAA. Thus, it can be argued that
the philosophy is not simply about benefiting students by pushing them to the next
“level” and creating compatibility between minority identities and academic
identities, but is also fundamentally about pacifying whites who question CAA’s
legitimacy by reframing the program in a manner which is palatable. That is, to say
that the program is a remedial program which assists students who may need “extra”
support, is not palatable to whites because they read such a description as racial in
nature – after all, it must be students of color who are remedial and need help that
white students do not. On the other hand, a philosophy of excellence is compatible
with whites’ belief that higher education and opportunities within higher education
should be based on “merit,” and available to all regardless of race (Fish, 2000;
Guerrero, 2002; Haney and Hurtado, 1994; Schneider and Ingram, 2004). Therefore,
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while the philosophy of excellence in practice may yield benefits for students of
color (i.e., by creating an enriching environment in which students do not feel
stigmatized), it also may be potentially problematic, as it reflects the language of
colorblindness and denies that race is an important factor shaping students’ success.
A Holistic Approach to Serving Students
In addition to asserting a philosophy of excellence, counselors emphasized a
“holistic” approach to working with students which went beyond academics.
Counselors made the following comments regarding their philosophy of student
counseling:
• My approach with the students is…getting to know the student, their
personal situation and how that affects their academics (Ashley).

• It’s really about the holistic development of students. I like to make
sure a student is well rounded (Jocelyn).

• We’re here to integrate students into larger community, not for hand
holding and making them dependent on us. My job is really
developing human beings (Heather).

That is, although CAA’s official philosophy is one which emphasizes academic and
professional leadership, counselors also stated that they believed it was their
responsibility to address student issues as they related to family, culture, etc.
The holistic approach to counseling and servicing students vaguely speaks to
some issues of race. More specifically, some counselors mentioned that students,
particularly African American and Latin@ students, express feelings of isolation on
campus and in their classes. Such feelings of isolation are, unfortunately, typical for
minority students and African Americans in particular, and may negatively affect
students’ academic performance (Lewis, Chesler, Forman, 2000; Williamson, 1999).
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As Jocelyn noted, “I’ve definitely had students say that they feel isolated, that
they’re the only Latino or Black in their class or in their dorm…they may not start
off talking about race, but it turns into that.” In response, counselors may simply let
students vent or suggest that students participate in campus activities or
organizations that connect them with students of similar racial backgrounds.
Connections between students of color or between students of color and faculty can
be instrumental to not only mitigating isolation, but fostering more positive identity
formations among students of color, in which they can comfortably inhabit both their
minority identities and academic identities (Barajas and Pierce, 2001).
While CAA counselors’ theory of holism does then include addressing issues
of race in students’ lives, counselors also indicated that addressing issues of race is
not necessarily a given in their interactions with students. As Ashley, stated, “I mean
if it’s something that the student brings up then we’ll definitely address it, but it’s not
always an issue.” Based on such descriptions of counseling sessions, discussing the
manner in which race shapes a student’s academic trajectory seems to be dependent
on the student explicitly bringing up race in a session. Thus, while the philosophy of
holism seems to allow for the recognition of race, while the philosophy of excellence
omits the role of race in students’ lives, it does not entail the belief that race is a
fundamental part of students’ experience. Instead, the impact of race on a student’s
experience is considered a possibility dependent on the individual. As a result,
CAA’s second major philosophical strain, while positively engaging with students as
persons with a wide range of experiences, and concerns, is also indirectly linked with
colorblindness, as colorblindness argues that if race does matter at all, it is an
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individual matter (Aleinikoff, 1991). This is naturally problematic for more than one
reason. First, simply because a student does not initiate discussions of race does not
mean that issues of race are not relevant to their lives. Second, by perpetuating the
belief that race is an individual matter, students’ development of racial consciousness
in relation to their community may be impeded. Thus, the imposition of colorblind
thinking about race onto student services may very well yield negative consequences
when it comes to student development.
One other important comment must be made here regarding counselors’
holistic approach to servicing and counseling students. In practice, the holistic
approach translates into a great deal of responsibility and heavy work load for
counselors. For example, Ashley, who primarily counsels freshmen students who
are undeclared, as well as transfer students, is responsible for over 1,000 students. In
addition to substantial caseloads, counselors’ responsibilities run the gamut. That is,
while at other institutions, academic counselors and personal counselors are two
distinct professional groups with differing roles, these roles appear to be
agglomerated into one multidimensional role at WU’s CAA. The overloading of
counselors once again seems to speak to the unfortunate reality that student services
such as CAA are too often stretched thin in ways that other non-racialized offices
may not be.
Relationship with the Larger University
CAA’s relationship with the larger campus and administration is both
positive and tenuous at times. The CAA director and staff noted that they feel the
administration generally supports the mission and goals of CAA. However, there
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were questions raised about discrepancies between the university’s rhetoric and
actual, realized movement toward realizing goals of diversity, retention, and
matriculation. The director and staff’s complaints included the failure of the
institution to empower CAA counselors in the same way as other counselors at the
university, the denial of adequate facilities, the proliferation of misperceptions of the
program, and the slow response of the university to issues of race which affect CAA.
Data collection indicated that not all counselors are treated or empowered
equally at Western University. Instead, prior to 1994, CAA counselors did not have
“authority status,” which meant that they could not sign off on petitions, such as
petitions for part-time study, or serve on committees. As one counselor stated, “We
were just seen as helpers; we weren’t seen as official counselors.” In contrast,
counselors who service all undergraduate students were given this privilege.
Denying CAA counselors petition approval power was viewed as a means by which
the university worked to marginalize CAA. Once again, counselors felt that the
larger university was questioning the validity and necessity of CAA and treating the
office as if it were disposable. Jocelyn expressed this sentiment in her interview and
expounded on the reasons she believes that CAA provides invaluable support to a-
typical students:
Now because that’s very new, that’s a decade of getting authority, it was
always questioned, why should they get authority, why do they need a
different counseling? Why do they need authority? Why can’t they just use
regular counseling sessions, which is Davidson Hall and is called University
Counseling. And I think a lot of times CAA staff and supporters spent time
defending the program, and that’s difficult because you have to tell people,
well, our population is unique, and we use different counseling techniques,
we’re not in there telling the student, like for example, my typical student
works 20 hours a week you know, has family obligations, sometimes has
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kids, has issues of, crisis of having to leave a certain area where they were
from, where you might have a student who goes to the regular counseling
unit that might be high income, never held a job in their life, doesn’t have to
work, has no family obligations, so the populations are completely different,
so we find ourselves defending that to people on campus because well, why
do you need CAA?

Jocelyn’s statements speak to the institutional marginality CAA has felt since its
establishment at the university as the Community Education Project. This
institutional marginality at its worst can be considered a consequence of conscious
institutional racism, and at its best is an unfortunate result of the institution’s
ignorance about the unique needs of students of color and low income students.
Furthermore, the lack of validity accorded CAA counselors is reflective of the lack
of respect often given to those involved with racialized programming. For example,
just as CAA counselors were denied the full powers of the counselor position, ethnic
studies academics, as well as other social scientists, are still continually viewed as
engaged in “soft” research, disjointed from a “serious” discipline – perceptions that
can lead to institutional marginalization (Aguirre, 1999; Assensoh, 2003; Espiritu,
1999). Thus, it is evident that any programming which is “raced” tends to be
susceptible to allegations that such programming and its administrators should not be
given a great deal of power for they are not engaged in serious, necessary endeavors
that contribute to the university.
Another form of institutional marginality is CAA’s lack of adequate facilities.
Given its vast responsibilities and historically marginal position within the
university, CAA at times, seems to be thinly stretched. Its facilities are average, and
in comparison to some of the other buildings on campus, sub-par. The building in
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which CAA is housed is drab, inside and out, with only a little color coming from
bulletin boards in the hallways. Counselors’ offices are somewhat small and lack air
conditioning, and the building’s restrooms are reminiscent of grade school
bathrooms with small stalls, trough sinks, and powder soap. It is difficult to not
conclude that CAA’s facilities, which leave much to be desired and are inadequate
for its vast services, are reflective of its historically tenuous relationship with the
larger university. And in fact, CAA’s sub- par facilities are not an anomaly among
race based programming, as social programs, ethnic studies and services benefiting
minority students have been historically underfunded (Journal of Blacks in Higher
Education, 1998 - 1999; Marable, 2003). In turn, CAA’s poor physical infrastructure
is a tangible reminder of all of the ways in which race continues to matter on a
campus that operates under colorblind policies.
A compelling example of CAA’s inadequate facilities emerged during data
collection. During the period of data collection, the building which houses CAA was
undergoing renovations to upgrade the building’s facilities, including making it
earthquake safe. While discussing these renovations, one counselor noted that
initially renovations did not include the installation of air conditioning. Yet offices
and programs on other floors of the same building were slated to receive air
conditioning. According to this counselor, CAA students perceived this to be a
slight and even discriminatory treatment of CAA. She stated, “This is the main hub
for underrepresented students…there are tutoring rooms where there’s literally 50
students at a time and air conditioning is not available? This is one of the small
things which sends a questionable message.” As a result, CAA students lobbied
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administration to receive air conditioning and their demands were met. Yet the
problem remained that many CAA staff and students had felt that they had been
mistreated by the institution and that this mistreatment was somehow connected to
the nature of CAA’s constituency. Clearly if such interactions between CAA and the
institution occur on a systematic basis, the inducement of marginality is likely.
In addition to pragmatic concerns such as the empowerment of counselors
and adequate facilities, CAA administrators and staff also systematically expressed
concern and frustration regarding widespread misperceptions of CAA. More
specifically, in spite of being crippled by colorblindness in both ideological and
material terms, CAA is still very much understood and perceived as a racial program
on campus, in large part because the majority of students it serves are minorities.
Thus, CAA finds itself in an interesting quandary – while it is perceived in racial
terms, it may not act on racial terms and is encouraged to avoid describing itself and
its students in explicitly racial language.
Illustrative of this quandary was a story which was recounted over and over
again in interviews with CAA counselors: “I know that one time a campus tour was
passing by our building, and the tour guide told the students and parents, oh, this is
Rice Hall; it’s for the minority students, for students who need help.” This anecdote
and the numerous times it was repeated by CAA counselors and administrators
indicates that historically negative views of programs like CAA as promoting
segregation, and providing special privileges and remedial services for minority
students still hold true. Yet counselors argued, somewhat desperately, “We have to
say, no, we’re not just for minority students, we have students of all races in our
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program.” In the same breath, CAA administration and staff argue that the
university could do a better job confronting and dealing with issues related to race,
and more specifically, meeting the needs of minority students. Misperceptions of
CAA are part of a larger trend in which racialized programs and policies are
misconstrued, usually by conservative forces, and in turn, misunderstood by the
larger populace (Beeman, Chowdhry, and Todd, 2000).
In a much broader sense, CAA’s relationship with the larger university is thus
hindered by differences in opinion regarding racial issues on campus. For example,
when a high ranking CAA administrator was asked how well he thinks WU deals
with issues of race, he responded,
I don’t think they deal with it much at all. I think they deal with it on a
peripheral level. I think they deal with it when it looks like it’s becoming an
issue. I think they deal with it when it’s out in the face. But I don’t think the
university in general, it does not respond to it, unless it’s in a crisis mode, or
it’s not something that’s been put on the table. For example, I have not seen
the university having developed programs that serve multicultural students
because they think it’s important, I think they’ve been developed because it’s
a response to the concerns of communities…WU is the only UC campus that
does not have a multicultural requirement as part of graduation, to me it
makes a huge statement about the value of that.

This administrator went on to specifically cite the intense controversy and conflict
surrounding students’ desire to establish a Chicano Studies department in the 1990s.
The director noted that at the time the WU chancellor boldly stated,
‘over my dead body will you establish a Chicano studies department. It is not
an academic discipline.’ I don’t think that’s changed very much. I think there
are still people who believe that. So these programs are ones created out of
strife, out of the rallies and demonstrations and to me that says there’s not a
true commitment to diversity and multiculturalism and race relations when
you can only point to programs that have been created out of trouble.

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Hence, great skepticism was at times expressed regarding the institution’s
willingness to engage with and address issues of race.
Uncertain Waters: The Future of Race at WU
A historical and contemporary examination of Western University and the
Center for Academic Achievement clearly exemplifies the continuing impact of race.
From the lack of support given to WU Freedom Riders, to the deplorably low
number of African American freshmen in 2005, race has remained a fundamental
component of this educational institution. The attempt to legalize colorblindness via
Proposition 209 has not translated into tangible colorblindness in the everyday life of
the institution. Instead, as I have shown through my examination of CAA, the effort
to make WU a colorblind institution has only yielded racial problems, such as the
exclusion of middle class Blacks from specialized programming, which the
institution is ill equipped to address. Furthermore, the forces of colorblindness have
not only denied WU and CAA the practical tools, such as race based programs, to
address issues of race, but have also robbed the institution and institutional agents of
the necessary language to engage in open dialogue about race. No longer are there
institutional programs to address the needs and experiences of Latin@ students,
instead there are programs to address the needs and experiences of “disadvantaged,”
“underserved,” and “underrepresented” students.
Yet as data collection for this dissertation neared its end, Western University
presented new admissions policies to the public, which were more holistic in nature
and designed to assist students of color, in particular Black students, in gaining
admission to the university. The changes came after public outcry over the low
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numbers of Black freshmen in recent years. Hence, in spite of Western University’s
officially colorblind stance, these changes indicated that liberal and leftist activists
continue to have an impact on WU. Neo-conservatives balked at the new policies,
viewing them as “back door” affirmative action. The reactions to WU’s new
admissions policies and the discourses at hand thus illustrate that in spite of
colorblindness, race continues to be a salient component of the university’s
functioning. The question now is how WU will continue to grapple with race as the
post-affirmative action era marches on.
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Chapter 3: California University
A Bastion of Conservatism Rethinks its Identity
in the Post-Affirmative Action Era
Introduction
“California University is multicultural, and welcomes exemplary men and women of
every race, creed, and background.”
As part of California University’s stated mission, the above statement reflects
the ideals of the university, as well as how it wishes to present itself to the public.
This statement is one which invokes American values of democracy, freedom, and
equality. Yet even a brief perusal of U.S. history tells us that such values and ideals
have too often been rhetoric and unfulfilled promises for the socially marginalized –
people of color, women, gays and lesbians (Zinn, 2005). Given this contradiction,
which has long existed on the national level, why should we expect that a university
would be any different? Despite evidence to the contrary we frequently do expect
schools, colleges and universities to be “different.” We expect educational
institutions to be open to all people and to serve as bastions of meritocracy, equal
opportunity, and upward mobility (Bowles and Gintis, 1977). Yet, universities such
as CU are not simply passive institutions, “welcoming” and absorbing anyone and
everyone, as their mission statements profess. Instead CU, like many other U.S.
institutions of higher education, has a history of white supremacy and white
privilege, which continues to affect its present day functioning. CU admissions, for
instance, has long been plagued by racial bias which favors white students,
especially children of alumni, and minority students, particularly those in the
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sciences and engineering, have historically felt marginalized on campus by both
professors and fellow students.
Established in the late 1800s, CU is the oldest private research institution in
the Western United States. Although CU now heralds its “diversity,” and utilizes it
as a marketing point in selling the university to prospective students, CU has
historically been a white, upper class institution, often openly or passively hostile to
students of color. This reality is not surprisingly absent from the university’s
account of its own history. On its website (accessed May, 2007), for example, not
one mention is made of the ways in which the Civil Rights movement affected the
university in the 1960s. The historical account of this time period reads as if nothing
significant happened in the U.S. This extreme sanitizing of history distinguishes CU
from Western University and Bay University, which in their website histories,
acknowledge various ways in which the movements of the sixties and early seventies
impacted the institutions.
Moreover, unlike Western University and Bay University’s archives, which
yielded a wealth of information regarding the universities’ dealings with racial issues
and controversies in the 1960s and 1970s, California University’s archives contained
much less materials regarding such matters. After multiple visits to the university
archives, one of CU’s archivists told me that the President’s Office likely held many
more documents which would provide information about racial protest and
controversies on campus. However, he went on to state that in order to obtain access
to the President’s papers, a letter had to be written to the President’s Office. He
personally knew two or three people who had done so and been refused access to the
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papers. At this point in my research, I had finished data collection and was writing
my data analysis. Hence, given the seeming unlikelihood of obtaining access to the
President’s papers, I decided not to pursue this data source. Yet it is interesting that
the President’s papers are seemingly inaccessible to many researchers. This suggests
that the university is quite protective of its history and may be keeping its most
sensitive documents to itself.
From a cursory assessment then, it is difficult to ascertain the role of race in
CU’s history. Yet a study of the limited archival documents available indicates that
while the university was historically been able to contain and insulate itself from
racial “problems” due to its status as a private institution, it still was not completely
immune to issues of race which found their way onto campus. This is exemplified
through several conflicts between African Americans, from both the community and
CU, and the institution over its treatment of African American students. Archival
documents indicate students of color dissatisfaction with racial profiling by campus
police, racial discrimination in dormitories, Eurocentric curriculum and dearth of
faculty of color, and lack of inclusive social activities, particularly those relating to
Greek organizations. Furthermore, the university was also afflicted with a range of
student protests, both conservative and liberal oriented, revolving around the
Vietnam War. These protests took on racial connotations as pro-war activists drew
on Southern Vietnamese students to help them advance their cause, and anti-war
activists denounced white supremacy and imperialism, which they viewed as
responsible for the war. In my coverage of racial events on CU’s campus, I begin
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with the 1940s, instead of the 1960s, as doing so provides more information on CU’s
racial history, given the dearth of materials from the 1960s and 1970s.
CU has thus faced many issues similar to those WU has faced. However, an
overview of CU’s history shows a campus relatively less consumed by racial strife
and liberal and leftist racial projects. It is CU’s private status which has allowed it to
contain racial projects too threatening to the institution. Yet the post-affirmative
action era in California has brought a new twist to CU’s treatment of race. In short,
CU has taken advantage of its capability to still utilize race in admissions and
programming. Unrestrained by Proposition 209, CU is able to engage in more open
discussion of race, and although the racial project of colorblindness is present on
campus, a racial project of left-liberal multiculturalism is tacitly supported by the
institution, as exemplified through its three race based student service units – African
American/Black Student Services, the Center for Asian Pacific American Student
Services, and Chicano/a Student Services.
As I move to review CU’s history, as well as the role of African
American/Black Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for
Asian Pacific American Student Services on campus, I argue that CU has most often
been consumed by conservative racial projects that excluded students of color from
the university or limited their involvement and success in university life. However,
in the past decade since the passage of Prop 209, California University has made a
marked but gradual shift to a left liberal racial project of multiculturalism, attempting
to portray itself as “minority friendly” in the post-affirmative action era. Hence, race
based student service administrators at CU speak of race as central to university life,
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and assert that understanding and addressing issues of racial identity is central to
their work. In doing so, they clearly reject the university’s conservative history and
rebuff the colorblindness which has permeated so many of its counterparts in the
field of higher education.
The History of California University
Sparks of Protest: 1940s – 1970s
In the 1940s and 1950s, as the nascent Civil Rights movement made its first
rumblings, CU found itself uncomfortably confronted with racial discrimination and
racism in its own backyard. Two incidents during this time – the burning of a cross
on a fraternity’s front yard and allegations of institutional racism – brought to light
the university’s complicity in attitudes and policies that upheld white supremacy on
campus.
In 1946 an “unknown group…burned a cross” on the front lawn of a
fraternity house. The letters “KKK” were also painted on the outside and inside of
the house (Campus newspaper, 1946). The actions aroused the university’s student
body to issues of racism, while the administration was relatively quiet. In response
to the cross burning incident, students organized to establish a committee to fight
racial discrimination. Yet these students were not part of the student leadership on
campus and according to a board editorial in the campus newspaper (1946),
California University’s student senate did nothing and said nothing in response to the
incident. The editorial (1946) stated,
When it was discovered Monday morning that the Ku Klux Klan, or some
group of vandals representing itself to be the Klan, has defaced and left a
threat at one of CU’s fraternity houses, neither the student senate, nor any
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individual member of the senate, took any action whatsoever, but instead
allowed a group of students, unorganized and unrecognized as any type of
functioning body, to take the initiative in answering and attempting to find a
solution to the unwarranted attack.

Furthermore, the editorial states that similar acts of vandalism took place later in the
week, with “KKK” being written on the university’s mascot and one of the main
administration buildings. From archival documents, it is unclear how and if the
KKK controversy was resolved. It is, however, evident that the student government
and administration of the university did little to address this racist event, and in so
doing affirmed the institution’s character as white centered and conservative in
orientation. Furthermore, it is notable that student activists were the ones responsible
for bringing media attention to the incident and pushing the university to investigate
the incident, a reality which affirmed students’ importance as agents for social
change on campus.
California University’s difficulty with race continued into the 1950s, with
charges of racial discrimination. In 1953, a local Black Methodist minister and alum
of CU made several allegations against CU, including the following:
There is a discrimination against Negroes in University housing…Negroes
are not employed in the handling of food in University eating
establishments…Negro students in the school of education are admitted on
job availability and not on ability…By refusing to interfere with CU’s
fraternities’ membership regulations, the university is ‘consciously or
passively condoning their religious and racial prejudices (Memo regarding
the controversy about racial and religious discrimination at CU, 1953, p.1).

The minister’s comments are compelling because they spoke of institutional racism,
of CU’s direct complicity in racial discrimination against African Americans. That
is, the minister did not accuse any one individual of racism, who could then
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potentially be removed from the institution, but indicted the entire institution for
racism, indicating that Blacks at CU were occupying a wholly hostile environment.
While one might expect that CU would take such allegations seriously given that
racial conflict was soon to explode throughout U.S. society, this was not the case.
Instead, CU engaged in the denial typical of social institutions which are unwilling to
change because they are invested in their existing racialized power structure. In
response to the minister’s complaints, nothing was done, and the dean of CU
expressed ignorance of any racial discrimination at CU. A handwritten note on a
type-up of the minister’s complaints reads, “I see no real story here.”
Allegations of racism were not only leveled against the institution and its
administration, but at white students. CU has long boasted a strong Greek presence
on campus, and in the fifties and sixties African Americans grew increasingly
discontented with the exclusionary practices of CU fraternities. At one point a
motion was made in the student senate to investigate racial discrimination amongst
the campus’ fraternities. In an internal memo an activist alum (1953) of the
university involved in the controversy is quoted as saying, “’[White] students are
possibly practicing what the administration tacitly condones…The university should
insist that fraternities be free from having written definitions which exclude persons
on the basis of race…”. This activist’s comments hence illustrate the ways in which
students of color at CU have historically perceived white students and the
administration as acting together to engage in racial discrimination against students
of color, and thus undermining students’ of color educational experience.
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White students’ complicity, whether conscious or unconscious, in California
University’s racist practices, speaks to the power of white privilege, or what George
Lipsitz terms “the possessive investment in whiteness.” Lipsitz (p.1) writes,
Whiteness is everywhere in U.S. culture, but it is hard to see…As the
unmarked category against which difference is constructed, whiteness never
has to speak its name, never has to acknowledge its role as an organizing
principle in social and cultural relations.

With such a description of whiteness, Lipstiz and other whiteness scholars argue that
whiteness and the possession of a white identity translate into a vast number of
privileges for whites, privileges which are often taken to be the “norm.” In the
literature on whiteness and white identity, it is frequently noted that the general
white populace participates in the construction and maintenance of white privilege
(Glenn, 2002; Goldstein, 2006; Guglielmo, 2003; Roedegir, 2006). This is a
phenomenon that has historically been evident at California University. The intense
debates over racially exclusionary practices of fraternities and sororities
fundamentally involve the white student population. That is, the racism in the Greek
system was not simply the offshoot of white administrators’ racism, rather it was the
consequence of your average white student practicing racism. Although white
students are not the subject of this chapter or this dissertation, their story exemplifies
the powerful ways in which the racial practices and projects in play at the
institutional level of the university shape the attitudes, experiences, and racial
identities of students.

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1960s – 1970s: Liberal, Leftist, and Conservative Rumblings
It is significant to note at this point that California University’s archives did
not reveal any documentation of other racial strife during the 1960s.. However,
given that the university experienced racial conflict and protest both in the 1950s and
1970s, it seems quite implausible that there were no significant events in the 1960s.
It is compelling then, that the archives provide little information about this decade.
Does the university wish to conceal the events of this era? While I cannot offer an
indisputable answer to this question, based on the existing evidence, it is indeed quite
possible that the university would prefer to not document the events of the 1960s.
As I previously noted, California University is a historically white, conservative
institution, which has long had an investment in protecting white privilege.
Furthermore, out of the three universities in this study, only California University’s
website failed to mention the manner in which the events of the sixties and seventies
influenced the institution.
While the 1960s are given scant attention in California University’s historical
records, the 1970s emerge as a contentious period, with both conservative and liberal
and leftist students fighting for their causes. In the 1970s, CU experienced some
unrest over racial issues and the war in Vietnam, although this unrest in no way was
comparable to that which occurred at other major universities throughout the U.S. As
the assistant director of African American/Black Student Services noted, during the
1970s, “People just went to class and nobody was protesting Vietnam.” However,
the belief that “no one” was protesting Vietnam is not completely accurate, as noted
by university documents from this time period. In May of 1970, internal
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administrative memos reveal that a group of Blacks, Chican@s, and sprinkling of
white students occupied the Development Building and Regent’s Center on campus.
The protesting students made several demands of the administration, including an
increase in minority scholarships, official statement of protest regarding Cambodia
and Vietnam, and an increase in the wages of laborers on campus. The fact that this
protest was multiracial in nature and revolved around several different socio-political
issues, is significant, as it indicates that even CU, with is insular nature, could not
avoid the leftist movements of the time.
In response to such instances of protest, the Board of Trustees, President,
Chancellor, and Chairman of the University Senate issued a series of announcements
to the university, clarifying the administration’s position on protest and dissent. A
letter to students states,
Throughout its history and now, the University has sought to provide the
proper climate for teaching and research…Your desire to attend California
University signifies your intention to become a constructive and responsible
citizens in the University community. It is CU’s avowed intention to
maintain your right to an unimpeded educational process and it will penalize
coercion, willful destruction of property, or any other illegal and anti-social
act (1970, p.1).

While this letter does not explicitly state that the university is opposed to liberal,
leftist, and racialized activism, its language reveals the conservative nature of the
university and its dislike for those who challenge the status quo. That is, the letter’s
contention that “coercion, willful destruction of property, or any other illegal and
anti-social act” will be penalized, seems to be a clear statement in favor of existing
policies and laws, and antagonistic towards those who might question the validity of
these same policies and laws, such as Black Power and anti-war protestors.
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In spite of the university’s statement against liberal and leftist student activists,
the early to mid 1970s yielded a variety of protests against the war in Vietnam. One
of the most contentious of these protests included a speech on campus by Jane
Fonda. In her speech, Fonda compared racism in the U.S. to American driven
imperialist interventions in Vietnam (Bridges, 1972; Notes on Jane Fonda Rally,
Bridges, 1972). According to a historical account of the Fonda rally,
she read a quote from Sitting Bull ‘That great true American native’ which
dealt with the rape of America by the white man. ‘We’re doing the same
thing in South Vietnam today,’ she said, ‘South Vietnam is the creation of the
American government!’ (Bridges, 1972, p.2).

Fonda’s words supported a cultural nationalist view of race, linking racial oppression
within the U.S. and racist military interventions in Third World countries. Yet
Fonda and her supporters were not without their detractors, as exemplified by a
group of conservative students, including a delegation of Vietnamese students.
Students from politically conservative organizations, including the Young Americans
for Freedom and Young Republicans, burned an effigy of Fonda, as well as a North
Vietnamese flag, while Vietnamese Students Against Communist Aggression
encouraged “the world to supporting as many ways as possible the struggle of the
Vietnamese people against the Communist aggressors” (Lambert, 1975; Vietnamese
Students Against Communist Aggression flyer, 1972).
In keeping with the university administration’s conservative orientation,
politically conservative students, such as those who protested against Fonda and
engaged in pro-war protests, seemed to have a strong hold on the university, in
contrast to the staunchly liberal students of Western University. It is perhaps
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because of this conservative hold, that more racialized activism did not occur in the
sixties and/or seventies.
1980s: The Continuing Significance of Race
During the 1980s, as CU began to raise its regional and national profile, the
university experienced rising conflict over the role of race in admissions policies and
practices. In a campus black student publication from 1981, a former black
admissions administrator described the racialization of admissions:
…when I spoke out on issues he [the white director of admissions] would
write notes in the students’ file saying, ‘She does not have the grade point
average to get into [the university], but she’s very, very pretty, she really
loves [the university] and she’s Swedish…and that was the criteria for the kid
being admitted…He would reject a Black student with a 3.75 and his
rationale would be, oh, I didn’t like the essay.

In these admissions processes, it became clear to the black administrator that the
white admissions director very explicitly worked to privilege white students over
black students. However, how these allegations were resolved, or if they were
resolved, was not clear from an assessment of archival documents. Yet it is still
significant to note that California University seemed to exhibit institutional racism at
this time, which manifested itself in the denial of admission to Black students, who
were perceived as incompatible with the university’s identity.
The History of Race Based Student Services at California University
Given the relatively politically conservative history of California University,
racial minorities on campus have been compelled to advocate for their own interests.
One of the most visible manifestations of this advocacy on campus today are three
race based student service offices – the Center for Asian Pacific American Student
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Services (CAPASS), African American/Black Student Services (AABSS), and
Chicano/a Student Services (CSS). Created in the time period spanning the seventies
and early eighties, these three offices were established as part of the larger ethnic
studies and affirmative action movements sweeping the nation at the time. Yet
unfortunately the university archives provide little in the way of documentation of
the RBSS’ history and the following histories primarily rely upon interviews with
administrators.
History of African American/Black Student Services
AABSS was the first of the three race based student service units created at
CU. AABSS was established in the 1960s to serve the needs of the African
American student population on campus and in so doing, followed the lead of the
larger Civil Rights and Black Power Movements. The fact that African American
Student Services were established first at California University, followed by
Chicano/a Student Services and Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services,
is reflective of the temporal nature of the Civil Rights, Chicano, and Asian American
movements. That is, the Civil Rights movement, which primarily focused on the
plight of African Americans, was the precursor to the other racialized social
movements of the sixties and seventies (Joseph, 2006; Louie and Omatsu, 2001;
Munoz, 2007; Rosales, 1997; Van Deburg, 1993). Thus, it follows that African
American/Black Student Services would be the first RBSS developed. Moreover,
Black students at California University have historically been the most politically
active of students of color on the CU campus.
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As a result of African Americans’ preeminence in the Civil Rights movement
and the establishment of such programs, administrators of African American Student
Services, as well as African American students, tend to have a strong self perception
and identity as the “leaders” in racial politics on campus. Maya, a high ranking
administrator AABSS, linked Black experiences with racism on and off campus,
with her office’s present day significance, stating, “I think there’s a real importance
of having a Black office especially on a predominantly white campus. I think from
the history of what the Black people have gone through endured...it’s a necessity to
have an office like this.” The “first born” status of African American/Black Student
Services and students and administrators’ sense of their historical importance as
leaders lends a sort of credibility to the Black community on campus, which is
reflected in society at large. That is, Blacks tend to be viewed as the group who has
experienced the most racism and spearheaded the Civil Rights movement, thus
endowing Blacks with authority status when it comes to racial matters (Feagin,
2001). As I will further discuss in an analysis of relations between African
American Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian
Pacific American Student Services, these perceptions of Blacks, while not
necessarily inaccurate, may be problematic, contributing to racial divisions among
minorities.
However, in spite of African American administrators and students’
contention that they have been at the forefront of advocacy for minority students, a
clear historical account of the exact details of AABSS’ history are difficult to attain.
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In an interview with AABSS’ current director, she stated that she knew extremely
little about AABSS’ beginnings:
Unfortunately, I don’t have that information. All I know that it was created
sometime in the ’60’s. I’ve been trying to get that information for 6 years.
I’ve talked to people who I heard that worked here. There’s no written
account, nobody can even dig back to when the first director was paid. I
can’t seem to get that information from anyone. Therefore, I can’t do a
celebratory event. I don’t know why it’s been difficult to get that
information, but I’ve been given the run around about them.

In another interview the AABSS director also stated that she believed that the
previous director had taken all historical documents with her when she left the
position about eight years ago. In this discussion the director implied that there was
some controversy when the former director left and that she did not think particularly
highly of this individual. She did not, however, give any further details, in all
likelihood because she did not want to air the program’s dirty laundry.
Unfortunately, such internal conflict is not all that unusual within programs like
AABSS, and in this case, one of the resulting problems is the erasure of the
program’s history. Such erasure of history is significant and may be problematic and
only exacerbate students of color ignorance about their own histories of activism on
and off university campuses.
It is not completely surprising that AABSS itself does not have historical
documents tracking the office’s establishment and early history – it is after all, first
and foremost, a student service office which is most concerned and focused on the
present-day. It is an office which is perpetually busy, with students coming and
going and meetings with administrators throughout the day. And there is certainly
no AABSS archivist to ensure that the office’s history is properly documented.
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Consequently, documentation of AABSS’ history falls on the shoulders of the
University Archives and this responsibility is fraught with its own problems. First,
as two archivists indicated to me as I was collecting my data, university archives
often rely on what people give them. Therefore, if an office such as AABSS does
not send the archives important documents or mailings, its events may simply not be
documented. Second, because offices like AABSS tend to be institutionally
marginalized, as well as overloaded, sending the archives historically salient
materials may not be a priority. Finally, we must also consider the possibility that
the university prefers not to document the history of AABSS because its history
highlights the university’s racism, which many likely wish to downplay. As
previously mentioned, on California University’s website, the 1960s and 1970s are
glossed over as if nothing was significant about the time period. This erasure and
reconfiguring of history to fit with the image of itself CU would like propagate is
unfortunately part of a larger epidemic in U.S. society, in which racial conflict and
the accomplishments of people of color are either forgotten or misconstrued.
While some might consider the lack of historical documents regarding
AABSS’ development to be of little significance, I argue that ignorance of the
program’s history can have profound consequences. One of the results is that
AABSS students, staff, and administrators may be unable to fully develop their
identity as a unit, given that they have virtually no understanding of where the
program has been. An understanding of history can imbue present struggles with
more meaning. For example, Chicano/a Student Services at CU has been much more
successful in documenting its history, and CSS provides a brief overview of its
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history on its website. In interviews with CSS students, the historical roots of CSS
were often mentioned, while AABSS students never mentioned AABSS’ history.
Gaby, a CSS student, stated, “I know that CSS came out of the struggles of students
in the sixties I think. They protested and fought to create this office. So we have to
keep that legacy.” Even broad assessments of the connection between the past and
present were lacking in AABSS students’ interviews, as AABSS students primarily
spoke of contemporary issues affecting African American students on campus.
While I cannot assert that the absence of historical memory has direct and negative
effects on AABSS and its students, I do argue that it robs AABSS and its students of
an important experience – a deep, tangible familiarity with the struggles of their
predecessors.
The dearth of information regarding AABSS’ history has another significant
consequence – AABSS is unable to track how their student demographics, interests,
and needs have changed over time. Without any written documents to track these
trends, anecdotal evidence and opinions from the current director and staff must be
relied upon. For example, both AABSS’ current director and assistant director noted
in interviews that African American students at CU today are more privileged
economically and more apathetic politically. As Maya stated, “They are from
parochial schools, secondary schools and they have more of the academic
prerequisites that align with the numbers of the University in terms of SATs and
GPA.” Furthermore, they provided anecdotal evidence to support their contention
that the African American – biracial student population has increased. Yet without
historical documents, we cannot know for certain if this is truly the case.
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Furthermore, if the director and assistant director’s assessment is wrong, this may be
detrimentally affecting current programming.
In summary, the absence of historical information on AABSS may
unfortunately be due to AABSS historically marginalized status within CU and its
internal squabbling. In turn, non-existent historical memory may only function to
further complicate AABSS’ functioning, preventing it from growing, gaining greater
power within the institution, and meeting its students’ changing needs.
History of Chicano/a Student Services
In contrast to African American/Black Student Services, which lacks
documentation of its own history, Chicano/a Student Services possesses a strong
understanding of its history and historical accounts of CSS’ development are
available to the public on the CSS website. This availability seems to largely be a
consequence of the current director and previous director’s efforts to piece together a
historical narrative. Moreover, many previous CSS administrators remain connected
to the Latin@ community of CU, which likely also assists in the maintenance of
CSS’ history. One of CSS’ former directors, for example, is the current director of
the campus’ Mexican Alumni Association. This sort of strong of relationship seems
to be lacking from AABSS and the African American Alumni Association, which
may be another explanation for AABSS’ weak historical continuity.
The establishment and development of CSS reflected the strength of the
larger Chicano Movement during the late 1960s and early 1970s. Students, at both
the high school and college/university level, were instrumental participants in the
Chican@ struggle, as they led protests seeking greater political power and resources
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to enhance Chican@s’ quality of life (Gutierrez, 1998; Munoz, 1989; Navarro,
1995). CU and its Latin@ students soon became enveloped in this movement, and
in 1973, CSS was established following intense lobbying by a loose coalition of
Latin@ and Chican@ students, faculty, and staff.
The upswing in Chican@ activism was enhanced by CU’s location in the
Southwest and close proximity to Mexico. That is, CU was situated in an area with a
large and growing Chican@ and Latin@ population and was experiencing a growth
in the number of Chican@ and Latin@ students seeking admission to CU. At this
time, CU and its faculty members also received several grants from the U.S.
Department of Education to study the Chicano experience. Yet in spite of the
growing Latin@ population and grants for research on Chican@s, Chican@ and
Latin@ students at CU still felt marginalized and denied their just due. Following
the political trends permeating campuses throughout the country, MEChA became a
vocal advocate for Chicano students on campus and was quick to respond when they
felt the sting of racial discrimination at the hands of CU. In the early 1970s, MEChA
was denied office space on campus and felt that this denial was deliberate and racist.
According to historical documents (Administrative memo, 1971), about 30 – 40
MEChA members
came to the third floor of the Student Union building and obstructed
operations for about 20 minutes. The reason for the Mex-Amer student
obstruction of operations was in protest of action last week by the Student
Union Board (a wholly-student-run unit) which granted office space to the
BSU and to the Asian-American Alliance but not to Mecha (sic) (the Chicano
group).

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Henceforth, MEChA protested and pushed the CU president at the time to create a
Chicano taskforce. The Chicano taskforce helped to create the Mexican American
Alumni Association and compelled the university to recruit more Latin@ faculty.
Eventually, Chicano students, staff, and faculty were successful in establishing CSS.
CSS immediately began to make efforts to improve the quality of life on
campus for Latin@ students. A campus newspaper article about CSS read:
Entering a university for the first time isn’t easy for anyone. For a student
from a ghetto, barrio, or foreign country, the experience can create a culture
shock. [CSS] is attempting to make the transition from high school to college
easier for Chicano students (Tabor, 1973, p.1).

In keeping with easing the transition from high school to a white dominated college,
one of CSS early slogans was “Somos uno…Somos familia,” which translates as,
“We are one…We are family” (Chicano Student Services Information Handbook,
1992). This slogan reflected CSS’ attempts to create a warm and welcoming
environment for Chican@ and Latin@ students on campus, one which was familiar
and comforting.
CSS’ early work was not limited to the Latin@ community on campus. In its
early days, CSS did a great deal of work with the Latin@ community in Los
Angeles. According to Tabor (1973, p.3) “MECHA and [CSS] have helped the
community seek comprehensive legal aid, family counseling, health counseling and
care, and preparation for higher education.” This sort of strong relationship with the
off campus community was indicative of the racial politics of the time. That is,
activist students of color during the late sixties and early seventies placed a great
deal of emphasis on connecting their struggle within institutions of education to the
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larger struggles of communities of color, which included those against police
brutality, poverty, and housing discrimination (Umemoto, 1989).
History of the Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services
The last race based student service unit to be created at California University
was the Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services (CAPASS). Similar to
CSS, CAPASS administrators and staff were able to provide a discernable account of
the office’s history. One of CAPASS’ key administrators, who has been at CU for
nearly twenty years, has been instrumental in maintaining a historical account and
narrative of CAPASS. In fact, he is able to recall much of CAPASS’ history, given
that he has been at CU for the vast majority of CAPASS’ institutional life. This sort
of longevity is unusual among race based student services administrators. Typically,
as a consequence of RBSS’ historical marginality within universities, administrator
and staff turnover is frequent and disrupts the historical continuity of the programs.
Jason is an exception to this trend, however it is unclear to what his longevity can be
attributed. It is possible that it is simply a personality issue, and Jason is a loyal
employee to the university and/or passionate and committed to improving the lives
of APA students. However, it also possible that because APAs have typically been
the largest minority group on campus and perceived as passive, that CAPASS has
experienced less marginality, creating a working environment more conducive for
long term employment.
When compared to AABSS and CSS, and in fact, when compared to many
race based student services at other universities, CAPASS can be considered
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somewhat of a late bloomer, as it was not established until 1982. According to a
high ranking administrator in CAPASS,
CAPASS didn’t come around until 1982. For 10 years between the early 70s
and early 80s Asian American students were actually left to looking to
services for Blacks and Latinos on campus, even though Asian Americans
were a larger presence on campus. Asian Americans were at least 10% of the
campus but there were no direct services, so it took a while, but eventually
students figured it out… that they needed to have some attention if not
identical to what was happening with Blacks and Latinos, because again
those were set up for different reasons, but at least similar, some sort of
resource dedication to real Asian Pacific American issues…so by the late
70’s, a group of students began to meet and organize around creating an
CAPASS department and this is a great case study for change in an
institution. It took 2-3 years before they were able to get a commitment to
create an CAPASS department. We have some militant activist students at
the very beginning creating the demand for a CAPASS department, and then
students coming in right behind them making sure that it does take place.

The administrator’s story of CAPASS’ development indicates that Asian Pacific
American students took a bit longer to organize and mobilize at CU, when compared
to their African American and Chican@ counterparts. This trend reflects the larger
social movements of the time. That is, the Asian Pacific American movement
developed and hit its stride at a later time than the Civil Rights, Black Power, and
Chicano movements (Louie and Omatsu, 2001). As I previously discussed in my
overview of the movements, this later development was due to a variety of factors,
including the immigration trends and the APA community’s vast ethnic and
linguistic diversity, which initially tended to be impede the growth of racial
consciousness necessary to drive a mass movement (Espiritu, 1992).
. In spite of CAPASS’ establishment in the early 1980s, a less reactionary time
than the sixties or seventies, APA student activists still experienced opposition from
the administration, who balked at creating another race based student center,
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believing that it was unneeded, particularly for a group who constituted the largest
racial minority on campus. The history of CAPASS thus contradicts common ideas
and stereotypes of APAs, which perceive APAs as politically apathetic, model
minorities who are always accepted by whites (Aguilar San-Juan, 1993; Endo, 1990;
Lee, 2004). Reflecting on CAPASS’ history, Jason, a high ranking administrator,
stated,
We didn’t establish the CAPASS department just to hold Asian Pacific hands
and sing Kumbaya and to keep students involved on campus. We were here
to be that sort of conscience for the university in dealing with issues with
Asians American.

Thus, although CAPASS was established at a later time when compared to African
American/Black Student Services and Chicano/a Student Services, it was
nonetheless driven by APA students and faculty members’ political consciousness.
Race Based Student Services in the 1990s:
Threats in an Era of Multiculturalism

The history of California University and its race based student service are not
smooth and seamless ones. Instead we see that the creation of RBSS at CU was the
result of students, as well as faculty and staff, urging the institution to change. As is
typical, the institution resisted before finally working with students of color to create
specialized services for minority students. However, mirroring the dynamics of the
Center for Academic Achievement at Western University, threats to AABSS, CSS,
and CAPASS’ existence did not end in the 1960s or even in the early 1980s. Instead,
a review of archival materials seems to indicate that all three offices came under
attack and faced possible restructuring and /or elimination from the university in the
1990s.
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In 1992 the Asian Pacific Faculty and Staff Network issued a memo to Asian
Pacific faculty and staff, asking that its members sign a petition or write a letter to
campus administration encouraging “retention” of the “minority services offices.”
More specifically, the memo suggested that members sign the following statement:
We, the undersigned CU faculty, staff, and students, would like to strongly
encourage the university to retain the offices of the Center for Asian Pacific
American Student Services, African American/Black Student Services, and
Chicano/a Student Services, as presently structured, in order that these offices
may continue to serve their constituencies as well as to serve the university
community on issues of diversity and multiculturalism in Southern California
(Memorandum, Asian Pacific Faculty and Staff Network at California
University, 1992).

Clearly, we know from this memo that an individual or group of individuals was
suggesting that the university either dismantle CAPASS, AABSS, and CSS or
change their organizational structure in a way which was undesirable to people of
color on campus. Unfortunately, a thorough review of archival materials did not
yield any further information on this issue, including who was responsible for the
threat to CAPASS, AABSS, and CSS and precisely how they wanted to change the
student service offices. Yet even without further information, I argue that this small
bit of information conveys an important reality that CAPASS, AABSS, and CSS
have faced throughout their history – a consistent sense of instability and
marginality, as well as knowledge that there will always be persons and groups who
would prefer that these offices not exist.

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African American/Black Student Services, Chicano/a Student
Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific American Student
Services Today

In the following discussion, I illuminate the ways that AABSS, CSS, and
CAPASS attempt to fulfill CU’s mission of “welcoming exemplary men and women
of every race,” acting as the university’s institutional representatives for racial
diversity and equality. These are responsibilities which at times are heavy burdens
to carry for offices which are historically marginalized and attempting to keep up
with changing student demographics, as well as alterations in students’ racial and
political consciousness, ideologies, and interests. But in spite of these difficulties, I
argue that RBSS are in a much better position politically on campus and better
equipped to directly confront and deal with issues of race because they are not bound
by the legal constraints of Prop 209. As shown through my previous discussion and
analysis of the Center for Academic Achievement at Western University, Prop 209
has had an extraordinarily detrimental impact on institutional capabilities when it
comes to dealing with matters of race. As a private institution, CU has escaped the
most dire consequences of Prop 209, and at times has even capitalized on their
ability to still utilize affirmative action and race based programming in a post-209
world. For example, CU has increasingly marketed itself as a diverse institution and
because students of color are very aware of UC schools’ inability to use affirmative
action in admissions, a diverse CU takes on new a meaning. With respect to
AABSS, CAPASS, and CSS, we also see that these student service offices are much
more engaged with race than WU’s CAA. CAPASS, for instance, matches APA
undergraduates with professional APAs in a mentorship program. In contrast, while
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CAA provides tutoring and some mentoring in its graduate school preparation
programs, it does not engage in race matching, and hence, may be leaving out (albeit
not by their own choice), an important part of the “equation” when it comes to
mentor-mentee relationships.
In contrast to the racial project of colorblindness which is currently
dominating the racial terrain of WU, and more specifically, CAA, I argue that left-
liberal multiculturalism is the strongest racial project at CU, and its strength is
exhibited through AABSS, CSS, and CAPASS. Influenced by cultural nationalism,
left-liberal multiculturalists focus on distinctive, unique Black, Latino/a and Asian
American experiences and perspectives, a focus which has manifested itself in three
different explicitly race based student service units at California University.
As a result of CU’s deployment of left-liberal multiculturalism, and its
freedom from the limitations from Prop 209, CU and its RBSS offices are more able
to directly address issues of race. However, this freedom does not necessarily
translate into complete acceptance of AABSS, CSS, and CAPASS, nor new and
different ways of understanding race. Instead, we find that AABSS, CSS, and
CAPASS, in the post-Civil Rights era continue to experience institutional
marginalization, and in turn, tend to reinforce and reinscribe monoracial
understandings of race because monoracialism, or more specifically gathering
around the identity of African American, Asian Pacific American, or Latin@,
provides social and political strength on campus in the face of marginalization.

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Organizational Structure & Programming
African American/Black Student Services, the Center for Asian Pacific
American Student Services, and Chicano/a Student Services all operate underneath
the Division of Student Affairs. According to CU’s website, the Division of Student
Affairs “is devoted to creating an integrated learning experience that helps students
reach their educational, personal, and professional aspirations. We help create a
campus community where students are prepared to contribute to a changing world.”
CAPASS, AABSS, and CSS all report to a vice president of student affairs.
The organizational structure of RBSS at CU ensures that each unit is separate
and autonomous from the others, confirming a left-liberal multicultural approach to
student services, which emphasizes the importance of recognizing distinct
differences and needs across racial groups. Each office, African American/Black
Student Services, the Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services, and
Chicano/a Student Services, is run by a professional director and assistant director
and is staffed by a variety of student workers who undertake tasks ranging from
basic office work, to program formulation and implementation. Such an
organizational structure is distinguishable from RBSS at other universities, which
frequently agglomerate student services for all racial minorities into one office, such
as a multicultural center. While some critics view the organization of CU’s RBSS as
separatist, high ranking administrators of each RBSS unit, such as Nicolas, an
administrator of Chicano/a Student Services, expressed a need to intensely focus on
their own communities:
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My goals are very much within the community. You have to build here first
but building out has to be part of the plan pretty quickly but you have to first
have to build the community because if the community doesn’t know
themself and doesn’t understand their own diversity and then you have them
starting to build it can get kinda crazy.

Nicolas’ comments speak to the perception that different racial communities on
campus have different characteristics and needs, a belief which validates separate
offices. Furthermore, such a belief reinforces and legitimizes the monoracialism
inherent in left-liberal multiculturalism. That is, by having separate offices and
services for African American, Asian Pacific American, and Latin@ students, CU
conveying the message that African American, Asian Pacific American, and Latino/a
are distinct, unique, mutually exclusive identities. The organization and naming of
the offices does not at face value acknowledge the existence, legitimacy, or
importance of alternative identities. There is a tacit assumption that white students’
needs will be met by “mainstream” campus student services, and that non-white
students’ needs can and will be met by AABSS, CAPASS, or CSS. This assumption
precludes the possibility that there may be students whose identities and experiences
fall outside that of white, Black, Asian Pacific American, or Latin@.
In spite of this reification process, it should be noted that RBSS
administrators and staff at times still expressed some misgivings about the naming of
the offices, and difficulties that result from maintaining separate RBSS units,
including being perceived as unwelcoming by particular students and unable to build
a strong relationship among the three units and conduct joint programming. Nicolas
and Maya clearly acknowledged that the specific names of their programs, and
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identities invoked by their programs, may prevent some students from participating
in their programming:
• I think unfortunately sometimes students may not feel like Chicano/a
Student Services is a place for them. Maybe they don’t identify as
Latino/a in the first place and identify as their ethnicity, like they’re
Guatemalan or whatever, so they feel disenfranchised. And this is
something we’re definitely trying to work on by emphasizing
inclusivity and letting people know they’re welcome (Nicolas).

• I’m sure sometimes people feel like this isn’t a place for
them…maybe they’re an African immigrant and aren’t really feeling
or identifying with Black American culture or the way we do
things…so this is probably going to be increasingly an issue (Maya).

Building upon Nicolas and Maya’s thoughts, Jason, a key administrator in the Center
for Asian Pacific American Student Services, admitted that AABSS, CAPASS, and
CSS most often did not collaborate on services, projects, and events:
The three offices…we honestly really don’t do very much together. We [the
directors] do meet once a month, and we do co-sponsor events, but
sometimes this is just a matter of helping out with funding or putting our
name on a project, which is not necessarily substantive; the main event we do
together is a Multicultural Dinner, but other than that there is not much joint
programming and this is due to both time restraints but I also think,
differences in philosophies.
Maya, Nicolas, and Jason’s comments reflect the problems inherent in a left-liberal
multicultural racial project. Such a project is in part rooted in the cultural nationalist
ideologies and theories of the sixties and seventies, but today, cultural nationalism is
in some ways, outdated. More specifically, cultural nationalism, and hence, left-
liberal multiculturalism often fails to recognize the heterogeneity of racial
communities. For example, it is now well known that the Chicano Movement
exuded machismo and frequently ostracized vocal women within the movement
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(Garcia, 1997). Moreover, in turning inwards to one’s own racial community,
coalition building across racial communities may be inhibited.
African American/Black Student Services Programming
The programming instituted by AABSS, CSS, and CAPASS, all reflect the
perception that the different racial communities served by these offices have
different needs. While AABSS emphasizes recruitment, retention, and graduation of
Black students, in addition to cultural affirmation, CSS and CAPASS take a more
multifaceted approach to student services.
A large part of AABSS’ programming focuses on enhancing the academic
lives of Black students at CU. Most prominent among such programming is
AABSS’ academic monitoring and intervention. AABSS tracks the academic
progress of all first year African American students. In the event that a student is
having academic troubles, he/she meets with AABSS staff for intervention. AABSS
staff helps to provide academic counseling and support services that facilitate
academic success. Moreover, in addition to academic monitoring and intervention,
AABSS provides services and programs designed to enhance and reward students’
academic performance. Notable programs include an exchange program with
HBCUs (Historically Black College and Universities) and an African American
Honor Society.
Cultural programming and activities, as well as social events, constitute
another major service area for AABSS. Black History Month (February) is the
period during which the vast majority of this cultural programming takes place. One
recent Black History Month included a step show, Blacks in higher education forum,
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and a Black music, dance, and art show. Among the social activities which AABSS
helps to organize are the Black Kinship Program, which brings students’ parents to
campus for a variety of events including a Soul Food Dinner, a student, staff, and
faculty mixer, the California Weekender, which is a trip to watch CU’s football team
play another California team, and a Welcome Week during the first weeks of the fall
semester.
In addition to AABSS’ primary focus on academic development and
fostering cultural and social communities, AABSS also engages in smaller scale
leadership and service activities. The Future African Leadership Program is an
Afrocentric program which encourages students to develop their leadership skills,
including the capacity to develop a strong sense of community among African
Americans on campus. Two other key programs emphasize a combination of
leadership and service to the community – the Black Mentorship Project (BMP) and
College Prep Outreach. The BMP matches a student from CU’s Black residential
dormitory with a local junior high school student. The CU student is responsible for
mentoring the student and helping the student to develop his/her creative writing and
math skills. The College Prep Outreach program similarly targets local youth and
brings African American CU students to local schools discuss their college
experiences.
Finally, other miscellaneous programming and activities provided by AABSS
include Community Town, an all-Black floor in a residence hall, a Black graduation
ceremony, and a diversity career workshop series, which educates students about
network, resume writing, interviewing skills, and “professional dress and etiquette.”
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Moreover, in order to publicize all of AABSS’ activities and to provide students with
resources beyond campus, each year, AABSS puts out the African American
Resource handbook.
AABSS’ programming suggests that AABSS’ director and staff believes that
“basic” issues of academic success are still of the greatest importance to African
American students. Hence, we do not observe drastic differences between the
current era and the sixties and seventies when it comes to the experience of African
Americans in higher education and the responses of student services.
Chicano/a Student Services Programming
In contrast to AABSS, CSS implements a more diverse range of
programming and activities, which can be separated into six areas: (1) culture, (2)
academic, (3) student support, (4) Latino Parents Association, (5) community
service, and (6) and graduate student services. CSS’ cultural programming includes
Latin American Independence Day Celebration, Dia de los Muertos, and La Posada.
The Latin American Independence Day Celebration occurs during mid September
and celebrates the liberation of not only Mexico, but Central American countries.
The celebration consists of a festival of food and art exhibitions. The celebration of
Latin American independence is a distinct effort by the new director of CSS, who
has been in his position for a year and a half, to broaden CSS’ appeal. That is, while
traditionally Mexican American students constitute the greatest number of
participants in CSS programming, current CSS administrators recognize that other
Latin@ ethnic groups merit their attention.
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In addition to the Latin American Independence Day, CSS also helps to
organize Dia de los Muertos, which is a celebration of the traditional Aztec holiday
Day of the Dead. El Dia de los Muertos event includes educating the campus about
the holiday, building altars to honor the dead, and also undertaking American
Halloween activities, such as trick-or-treating for local children in CU dorms.
Finally, La Posada is a celebration of the traditional Mexican holiday, in which
participants reenact Mary and Joseph’s journey as they seek shelter.
CSS’ academic programming includes new student orientation, tracking of
students’ academic progress, academic workshops, and faculty-student events. The
new student orientation introduces freshmen to older Latin@ students, staff, and
faculty, so that they may become familiar with CU. Similar to AABSS, CSS
monitors its students’ academic performance to ensure students’ success. Academic
workshops also aim to facilitate academic success by providing students with useful
skill sets, such as managing study time or preparing for graduate school. Faculty-
student events include luncheons or panel discussions in which students and faculty
discuss the issues facing Latin@ students on campus, as well as the best ways to
ensure the success of Latin@ students.
Student support services are more loosely organized and primarily consist of
advocacy for students and referrals. More specifically, CSS is willing to act as an
institutional advocate for Latin@ students who are in need of assistance. For
example, if a Latin@ student feels that he/she is being discriminated against by a
professor or T.A., CSS staff and administrators assist that student in resolving the
situation / dispute. Referrals by CSS direct students to other offices on campus
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which may address students’ particular concerns. For example, a CSS student who
seems to be having familial problems might be directed to CU’s Health and
Counseling Services.
One form of programming unique to CSS which distinguishes it from
AABSS and CAPASS, is the prominence and strength of its Latino Parents’
Association. The LPA was established in 1982 and attempts to help Latin@ parents
better understand the experiences of their children as students at CU. Parents
actively participate in running LPA and planning its yearly events. Recurring LPA
events include a fundraising Tamale and Menudo Bowl, which includes parents and
students gathering together before a CU football game, and monthly meetings, where
parents have the opportunity to discuss their experience as parents of CU students
and speakers, such as the director of residential life, are invited to talk with parents
about their concerns.
The Latino Parents Association was created because CSS felt that Latino
parents needed to be more connected to their children’s lives on campus, as well as
to the university at large. More specifically, the CSS director noted that Latin@
parents are
mostly immigrants and often times don’t understand what their students are
going through. For example, there are a lot of times when parents don’t
understand why their kids can’t or don’t want to come home on the weekends
or why they have to be in the library until 11 p.m.

In short, the LPA attempts to help Latin@ parents who may not know how the
university system works or what their children have to do in order to be successful in
college. It is interesting to note that neither AABSS nor CAPASS houses a parents’
219
association, which seems to be reflective of the differing demographics and nature of
the parent populations. While Latin@ parents seem to be perceived as less educated,
as indicated by the CSS’ director’s comments, Asian Pacific American parents are
thought of as more savvy and familiar with the workings of higher education. As
Jason, a high ranking administrator in CAPASS, stated,
A lot of our students’ parents are immigrants, but some are American born.
Across the board, they tend to be well educated, even if it’s education from
their home country. So they tend to have very distinct ideas about what they
want for their students.

In turn, it appears that Asian Pacific American parents do not have the same needs or
concerns as Latin@ parents, and thus, an Asian Pacific American parents’
association is unneeded. African American parents also are distinguished from
Latin@ parents in ways which seem to make a Black parents’ association
unnecessary. A key administrator of African American/Black Student Services
states, “Our parents tend to be quite vocal. Sometimes even overly involved. They
don’t want their students to take a back seat to anybody here just ‘cause they’re
Black.” Hence, we see that there are differences not only among the minority
student populations at California University, but among the parents of these students,
whose varying educational backgrounds and cultures shape their involvement at the
university.
Community service programs through CSS include arranging and providing
campus tours to local Latin@ youth. During these campus visits, CSS students and
administrators act as tour guides and educate students on the availability of resources
and support for Latin@ students at CU. Moreover, CSS students also provide
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service to the community as “Latino Students for Social Change.” With this
program, CSS students serve as volunteers for local community organizations.
Finally, CSS provides a limited amount of services to graduate students.
Most often, these services consist of assistance with research. For example, graduate
students CU’s student affairs programs have done work with CSS and thus fulfilled
field work requirements for their program. Furthermore, CSS assists graduate
students by publicizing students’ research projects and helping them to recruit
participants
38
.
Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services Programming
In terms of programming, CAPASS seems to share many more similarities
with CSS, than with AABSS. CAPASS takes a multifaceted approach to
programming, with an emphasis on endowing students with political consciousness,
a commitment to social justice, and leadership skills. CAPASS’ leadership programs
include Social Justice Leadership (SJL), the APA Leadership Alliance, and Race
Consciousness (RC). SJL is one of CAPASS’ most prominent programs and
introduces students to issues of race, class, and gender by bringing community
leaders to campus to meet with students. SJL’s aim is to foster leadership skills and
activism among Asian American students. Another important component of
CAPASS’ leadership development is the APA Leadership Alliance. The Leadership
Alliance consists of the presidents of APA organizations on campus. The council is

38
During my research, the Director of CSS was kind enough to help me publicize my research project
to his students. A CSS e-mail newsletter notified students of the opportunity to participate in my
research as an interviewee.
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responsible for discussing a wide variety of issues of concern to the APA community
and interacting with the administration.
CAPASS also works with AABSS and CSS to implement a program named
Race Consciousness (RC). This program is notable because it is one of the few
collaborative undertakings by CAPASS, AABSS, and CSS. According to
CAPASS’s website (accessed May, 2007),
Race Consciousness (RC) is a program pioneered by students to foster
leadership by raising social consciousness and political awareness in the
context of multiracial issues. RC Consciousness is a leadership development
class that attempts to show participants why they should get involved within
the community and with social activism. The aim of RC Consciousness is to
promote leadership among CU students to plan projects that address
multiracial issues on the CU campus. The program further attempts to build
coalitions and to intertwine issues of race in African American, Latino, Asian
Pacific American, and Native American communities.

Thus, RC attempts to address a variety of issues of concern to different racial
communities on campus. For example, in one RC session I attended in the fall of
2005, fraternities and sororities’ treatment of issue was a topic of debate, particularly
because a CU fraternity had recently held a party with a “Mexican” theme, including
barbed wire to signify the border between the U.S. and Mexico. RC Consciousness
is one of the few forms of programming in which we can observe CU’s race based
services moving away from left-liberal multiculturalism and monoracialism and
entertaining ideas of cross-racial coalition building, as well as intersectionality.
In keeping with CAPASS’ focus on leadership development, another major
component of CAPASS programming is mentoring. CAPASS has a very strong
relationship with Asian American alumni and matches them with undergraduates in a
mentoring program. Furthermore, CAPASS helps to administer the CU Asian
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Pacific Alumni Association Scholarship, which is a yearly scholarship awarded to
APA students who exhibit academic achievement, merit, and the ability to positively
contribute to the APA community. CAPASS also runs a Peer Mentoring Program
which matches first year APA students with current APA students. The purpose of
the program is to “help the first-year student adjust to campus life, become more
familiar with university resources, and successfully negotiate personal issues that
may arise by having a reliable mentor to talk with” (CAPASS website, accessed
May, 2007). The mentoring programs offered by CAPASS are instrumental in
helping APA students integrate themselves into the campus. That is, the personal
relationships and networks fostered by CAPASS’ mentoring programs help to create
a sense of belonging for APA students. CAPASS’ strong mentorship program
distinguishes CAPASS from AABSS and CSS. This difference may largely be
attributed to mere numbers and CU’s problems with recruiting, retaining, and
graduating African American and Latin@ students. More specifically, there are
simply vastly more APA CU graduates than there are AABSS and CSS graduates.
Thus, it is less feasible for AABSS and CSS to create large, sustainable mentorship
programs.
Supplementing CAPASS’ more formal leadership and mentoring programs is
an internet based networking program which allows one to stay “connected to other
Asian Pacific American students and to learn about campus and community events
and activities.” In order to be a part of the network a student must fill out a form
with their contact information and in this form, they are able to indicate their
interests, ranging from volunteering, to mentoring, to preparing for graduate school.
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Students may also visit the CAPASS offices to review listings of internships and
fellowships. Furthermore, CAPASS also houses two databases online – one
dedicated to the compilation of information on APA community organizations and
the other maintains profiles of APA entertainers, activists, business leaders, and
others.
Finally, CAPASS puts on a variety of student programming throughout the
academic school year which is more social in nature, although CAPASS
programming in this area is considerably less than AABSS and CSS. For example,
every year CAPASS holds a Welcome Day for new Asian Pacific American students
in which they are able to socialize with one another, become aware of resources
available for APA students on campus, and includes a brunch.
As it approaches its 25
th
anniversary, CAPASS is currently conducting a
financial campaign in order to solidify an endowment for the program. The program
is aiming to raise $100,000.
Students Served
While any student can utilize any of the programs and services offered by
African American/Black Student Services, the Center for Asian Pacific American
Student Services, and Chicano/a Student Services, each of the offices aims to serve
their respective racial communities. Students are recruited for participation through
the initial admissions process. More specifically, admissions provides AABSS,
CAPASS, and CSS with the names of incoming freshmen who identify themselves
as African American / Black, Asian Pacific American, and Latin@, respectively.
The offices then proceed to contact these students via e-mail, and the students are
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automatically placed on a listserv. The director of AABSS described the process of
determining which students would be contacted by AABSS: “Whoever marks
‘black,’ in any way, even if they also mark another race…I am going to try and
provide that student with services. We are going to target them.” Such thinking
reflects the presumption that all students of color entering CU as freshmen will
potentially benefit from some form of race based student services.
Yet inevitably, there are students who will not be interested in AABSS,
CAPASS, and CSS, and even some students who are in fact, offended by being
directed to RBSS. Just as the director of AABSS expressed strong sentiments
regarding targeted students, she also possessed compelling insight when it came to
African American / Black students who were uninterested in AABSS programming:
You know I’ve had students call, and even one who came up here [to the
office] to tell me, ‘stop sending me those e-mails…I’m not interested.’ And
I’ve had students who are really hostile about it…they just don’t want to be a
part of anything that is ‘Black’ or ‘African American’…they just want to be a
‘regular’ student.

Thus, we see that some students who AABSS, CAPASS, and CSS seek to serve, do
not want to be provided with services and may actually disagree with the very
existence of these offices. This is an important indicator of colorblindness ideology
– that even students of color may come to absorb and believe in the insignificance of
race. Moreover, it may also be an indicator of students’ dissatisfaction with left-
liberal multiculturalism and its emphasis on race. That is, there is a segment of the
student population who views leftist and liberal thought of any kind as passé.
Instead these students are likely to view race in cultural terms and prefer to think of
people as “individuals,” not as part of a particular racial group.
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African American Student Services, Center for Asian Pacific Student Services,
and Chicano/a Student Services:
Philosophies

A fundamental component of justifying the existence of each RBSS unit, as
well as their distinct and separate status is their philosophies. AABSS, CAPASS,
and CSS’ philosophies tend to vary, although each office’s philosophy seems to be
influenced by ideologies and theories of left-liberal multiculturalism and cultural
nationalism. The following statements constitute each office’s philosophy as stated
by key administrators:
• I would reference the mission statement that we have for the
office, which is basically to empower our Latino/Latina students,
which include everything from Mexico, Central, South and the
Caribbean, and all the other factors I talked about before, like
everything from gender and sexual orientation, race, religion, to
anything and everything, basically to allow those folks to feel
included in this center, and help them find their role and what it is
that their doing, whether it’s in the center, or whether it’s at CU.
And empowering them, and retaining them here at the university,
ultimately to graduate. That’s the goal, for them to graduate, and
when you come down to it, like that’s the goal, but in the midst of
that goal there’s all these other things that you want to do as well.
You want them to develop consciousness (Chicano/a Student
Services)

• Our mission is still the same in the sense of creating an
environment that enhances and creating an environment that is
welcoming, nurturing, that encourages their intellectual, their
cultural, and their professional will appear as African American
students. The primary thing is attract, to recruit, to retain, and
graduate (African American Student Services).

• I’m more concerned about providing educational opportunities
both in terms of out of classroom practices with social issues to
integrating with community organizations and issues that help out
the community whether it’s the Mayor’s Race or getting folks out
to vote or folks learning about slavery or traffic indentured
servants in regards to the restaurant industry to Labor disputes to
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CU’s relationship with the neighborhood to cultural preservation
of Little Tokyo (Asian Pacific American Student Services).

While AABSS, CAPASS, and CSS all broadly operate under the tenets of a
left-liberal multicultural paradigm, their stated philosophies express key, if at times
subtle differences, between their ideologies, interests, and substantive programming.
Out of the three offices, African American/Black Student Services seems to most
clearly base its philosophy and programming around the belief that Black students’
experiences on campus are unique and distinctive from not only white students, but
also their Latino/a and Asian Pacific American counterparts. Furthermore, AABSS’s
focus on fostering educational opportunities and achievement and the maintenance of
a culturally supportive environment echoes the philosophies and goals of ‘60s-‘70s
African American activists, and there is in the present a sense that Black students
face the greatest obstacles. In this way, AABSS is somewhat distinct from CAPASS
and CSS, who have extended beyond the left-liberal multiculturalism, to embrace a
less essentialist approach to race, recognizing the salience of intersectional identities,
for example. This difference is not necessarily surprising, considering the historic
power of Black identity, Blackness, and the Black experience, as juxtaposed against
white identity, whiteness, and the white experience. Blacks have historically
possessed less latitude in terms of their racial identities and experiences, with
Blackness functioning as a corral which could not be escaped (Davis, 2001).
Both CAPASS and CSS’ philosophies and practices extend beyond AABSS’
central focus on admission, retention, and graduation rates. For CAPASS, this is a
matter of the demographics of its students. CAPASS students tend to come from
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higher socio-economic backgrounds and high schools which have made them well
prepared for success at CU. Therefore, for the vast majority of APA students,
retention is simply not an issue. In turn, CAPASS focuses more on developing APA
students in terms of leadership and their professional lives. Moreover, while
retention and graduation rates are a concern for CSS and its students, CSS has
increasingly focused on programs and services which confront issues of
intersectionality among students. For example, CSS has done programming focusing
on GLBT issues. Moreover, the new director of CSS is extremely committed to an
ideal of “inclusivity,” which recognizes the internal diversity of the Latin@ and
Chicano community. The emphasis CSS places on intersectionality and diversity
within its own student community distinguishes it from AABSS.
In part, the differing philosophies of African American/Black Student
Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific American
Student Services are reflective of the differing leadership styles of each office’s
administration. The administrators of AABSS are very hands on and attend student
events. Moreover, one of AABSS’ key administrators considers herself the students’
“mother” away from home. In closely attending to the social and academic lives of
African American students on campus, she seems less concerned with larger political
issues and their affect on the African American population. In contrast, the
administrators of CSS and CAPASS do not necessarily see themselves as the
personal confidants of students and have more varied concerns than AABSS’
administration. The administrators of CAPASS, for instance, place a large emphasis
on the leadership development of APA students, mentoring, and programming which
228
fosters political consciousness, such as inviting local leaders to speak about the
garment workers’ industry. While CAPASS activities are purportedly designed to
meet the needs of APA students, the focus on leadership development, mentoring,
and politically conscious programming is also a manifestation of the one key
administrator’s extensive experience as a leader in the local and campus APA
community. Out of administrators of the three offices, this CAPASS administrator
has been at CU the longest, at 17 years. During this time, he has been able to build
relationships with community leaders and alumni to create a strong and cohesive
network of APAs invested in the success of CU students.
Understanding Students’ Racial Identities:
Philosophies and Approaches of Race Based Student Services at
California University

An integral component of the philosophies and activities carried out by
African American/Black Student Services, the Chicano/a Student Services, and the
Center for Asian Pacific American Student Service, are the administrators’
understandings and conceptualizations of students’ racial identities. In interviews,
race based student service administrators expressed very strong feelings regarding
the significance of racial identity for their students. These feelings generally
addressed two major issues – the role of racism, racial oppression, and racial
discrimination in shaping students’ identities, and the changing nature of the African
American, Latin@, and Asian Pacific American student populations, and hence,
identities. For Maya, a high ranking administrator in AABSS, racial oppression was
viewed as an integral component of Black students’ racial identities, again
reaffirming the belief that Black students face the most educational and
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socioeconomic obstacles. In contrast, Nicolas, an administrator from CSS, placed
less emphasis on experiences of discrimination as central to Chican@ and Latin@
students’ identities. And finally, Jason, a key administrator in CAPASS, largely
discussed racism as relevant to APA students in terms of colorblindness. That is, he
felt that too many APA students had come to buy into colorblind ideology.
A common theme tying together the administrators’ commentary on students’
racial identities was the changing demographics of the student populations and the
concurrent changes in students’ attitudes and understanding of race. More
specifically, both the director and assistant director of AABSS noted that the Black
students being admitted to California University today tend to be more well off than
Black students of previous generations. In turn, these students seem to be less
racially conscious. Nicolas and Jason, administrators from Chicano/a Student
Services and the Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services, respectively,
also noted the increasing class status of their communities, but also expressed even
more concern about the increasing ethnic diversity of their communities. In the
following discussion, I further illuminate the approaches of African American
Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific
American Student Services to understanding students’ racial identities. The
centrality of racial identity to these student service offices exemplifies left-liberal
multiculturalism’s emphasis on race and racial difference.

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African American/Black Student Services:
Understandings of Racial Identity

Many conventional views of African American students are ones which
emphasize their collective disadvantages both within and outside of educational
environments and the ways in which these disadvantages yield a marginalized
identity (Lang, 1992). For example, John Ogbu’s work asserts that inner city Black
students often develop oppositional consciousness and oppositional identities in a bid
to escape the label of “acting white,” which comes along with academic success
(Fordham and Ogbu, 1986). Moreover, examining the experiences of African
American college students, a range of research emphasizes students’ struggles with
discrimination, racial stereotypes, and self-doubt (Feagin, 1992; Sanders, 1997).
Data gleaned from interviews with high ranking administrators of African
American/Black Student Services confirmed this literature’s understanding of Black
students’ identities and experiences. Maya noted that a notable number of CU’s
African American students continue to experience racial discrimination on campus,
recounting the following story as an example:
Last September 20
th
, 4 students came in here just livid. They were Black
female Junior Engineers, so it wasn’t like their Freshman year. They were
taking a Biology or Chemistry class of some sort. Each week they sat on the
first, second, or third row of a lecture hall a seat between each other. There
was a white female who came in looking for a seat. The professor stops the
class and says come sit in the black power roll. That was in 2004 not 1966.
September 20
th
, 2004.

Maya went on to say that she felt such instances of discrimination made it more
difficult for Black students to “figure out who they are and where they stand.”
Moreover, Maya clearly conveyed her belief that it is predominantly African
231
American students, more so than any other minority on campus, who face such
difficulties. Brian, another key administrator, echoed Maya’s comments, stating that
for Black students at California University, “There will always be an issue with
racial profiling and there will always be an issue with racism, from themed [Greek]
parties to racial slurs being said to somebody.”
Maya and Brian’s comments were thus in keeping with a long tradition of
literature addressing Black students’ experiences, which emphasizes the role of
racism in students’ identity formations. However, henceforth, Maya and Brian
expressed numerous sentiments about the state of the Black community at California
University, which provided a more complex view of the student population, one
which acknowledged the increasing class diversity of Black students. In turn, Maya
and Brian lamented that this new, relatively privileged generation of post-Civil
Rights students sometimes lacked a strong sense of racial identity and related
political consciousness. Personally distinguishing her experience from those of the
Black students she sees today, Maya asserted,
The…Black Students that are coming into campus now are not like me. I’m
the product of coming to high school and college in the ‘80’s where the
parents were still talking about their struggles because then it was only 20
years prior. Since I was born in the ‘60’s, it was definitely something you
heard about, Black Pride and the whole Black History month and things of
that nature. These students would be my kids. I’m now old enough to have
an 18, 19, or 20 year old in college. So therefore my kids would not be first
generation. I’m first generation so the kids that are coming in are second
generation which means they’re more privileged. The whole “I’m struggling
for anything” is totally not their thing. I’m sure if I had the bomb job, if I
was married to an engineer, doctor, lawyer, whatever I’m doing with my job.
We would have a big house, live in the suburbs, or whatever. Whatever it is
and that we would make sure that they would be put in the best schools
because we know-I’m assuming me and my husband are probably around the
same age-I’m not married-I’m just saying-if I were it would be someone who
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is similar to me in the sense that we’re both first generation, both went to
college around the same time and so like my parent wanted more than what
they had which was a high school diploma and my dad could barely read and
had to go to night school when I was in elementary.

It’s just totally different now. These students have ipods and computers. I’ve
only owned a computer 11 years-and the only reason why I bought one is
because I was going to grad school in 1994. I had a smith corona with a little
tape and kept it going. These students don’t even know anything about a
typewriter-“What is that?”-Computer, cut and paste-the whole ability was not
what I grew up. These students have surround sound this, ipod that, the latest
clothes, the latest fashion, and it doesn’t even phase them because that’s just
what mommy and daddy gave them. There’s no sense of earning or sense of
knowing that you had to really earn to understand this or understand what my
parents went through and how I’m more privileged then they are and my kids
would be more. So theses students, I think they know about it but don’t
really feel it. I know my mom and dad have had racism and they’ve told me
about it. I don’t know if I would be telling my students now because the
racism I have is because I’m in college and I’m dealing with a professor vs. I
had to use the black bathroom…There’s apathy-is that the word?

Maya’s comments speak to an array of social and economic trends which
have shaped the lives and identities of Black students. As part of a younger
generation, these students are tangibly disconnected from the Civil Rights movement
and simply do not have any direct, personal experience with the kind of racism
experienced by previous generations. Moreover, students do not even have much of
a connection to more recent, high profile racial events. As Brian noted,
a lot of these kids are born in 1987 and 88…they are five years old when the
riots happened. For them to really capture that, they don’t really understand
that black people were upset because they were being beat by police officers.
So that whole notion of racial tension in their lifetime-they don’t really gather
and I don’t think they place the value on what it’s like to be black currently.

As a consequence, because racialization and experiences of racial oppression have
historically been central to the formation of Black identities, these students do not
feel as tied to their Blackness as their forefathers. As beneficiaries of the Civil
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Rights movement, these students come from families which have been part of the
rising Black middle class. In turn, students have not experienced great economic
struggle and their racial identities are not ones which are intimately linked to
economic disadvantage. Finally, although Maya does not directly reference hip hop
and popular culture in her statements on the changing Black student population, I
argue that the consumerism among students which she indicts, is to some degree the
result of the unabashed capitalist greed and obsession with celebrity which permeate
both hip hop and popular culture today (Watkins, 2006).
In interviews, both Maya and Brian went on to note that the increasingly
privileged status of CU’s Black students has translated into greater individualism and
a lack of racial and political consciousness. Reflecting on students’ response to a
retreat she organized for residents of a Black dormitory floor, Maya lamented,
These students don’t even want help. They think they’re privileged and
wonder why they have to go on a retreat because they think they know what
they’re doing. Sure enough, after they go through it they’re like “thanks”.
We do a retreat for our…African American Theme Floor students. One girl
told me she had a modeling shot. I told her she knew the retreat was
mandatory and asked to be on this floor. If you weren’t going to participate
than I could’ve asked someone else take your place because we had a wait
list. They don’t really see the fulfilling nature of being a part of that
particular situation. Everything is just whatever and do whatever I want to do
anyway.

The individualistic attitude exhibited by the student who wanted to go on her
modeling shot rather than the retreat, is an attitude which seems to spill over and
shape students’ racial identities. Brian notes that, there is
a significant portion [of the Black student population] that don’t want
necessarily to define themselves as being black first. I’m not saying that they
don’t self-identify as being black, but they would rather be known as an
individual first versus a color or part of a culture. They know they’re Black
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but they would rather be known as Joey or Jill first. For that reason, they
may make a point not to come to the office. The reason I know those
students exist because I see them outside the office and not here.

Brian goes on to state that in spite of these students’ wishes to be known as
individuals, not as members of their race, “Sometimes when racism shows itself to
them, they come to us first because then they realize that someone else saw them as
black first.” It can hence be inferred from Maya and Brian’s comments that African
American students at CU are not only increasingly of a higher class status, but are
also concomitantly influenced by the rugged individualism of American culture and
colorblind ideology. That is, in spite of AABSS’ efforts to propagate a left liberal
multicultural racial project which conceives of race and racism in collective and
social terms, African American students are still susceptible to being influenced by
colorblind ideology, which includes the contention that racial identity is the domain
of the individual and is a private matter. However, Brian’s statements also
exemplify the harsh realities and thus, fallacy of racism. In particular, he notes that
those students who prefer to be identified as individuals, rather than as Black people,
often have a rude awakening when they experience racism and then seek out AABSS
for help, an office they might have previously avoided.
In spite of the numerous statements Maya and Brian made about the apathy
of African American students today, it should be noted that they also acknowledged
that there is a segment of students who very strongly identify as Black / African
American and concurrently are involved in political and social justice activities. As
Brian stated,
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I would say there is definitely a section of politically active kids. NAACP is
very active on campus. I used to be the advisor and I think they have a
membership of over 50 students within the organization. There are definitely
are students that in my eyes get it. I think there is another significant portion
of students who are coming here because they are doing something black-
they are part of a black club or black organization.

Thus, while there are students who reject AABSS left-liberal multiculturalism, there
are also African American students who very much embrace it, participating in
organizations such as the NAACP and The Sisterhood, a mentorship program that
pairs Black female students with younger Black female students from the middle and
high schools in the area.
African American/Black Student Services’ understandings and views of
Black students’ racial identities suggest that the racial terrain of the university
campus, as well as larger society, is much different in the post-Civil Rights era,
creating new challenges for student services practitioners such as Maya and Brian.
That is, Maya and Brian are confronted by Black students who are much more
privileged than previous generations of Black students and who may actually wish to
separate themselves from the Black community on campus. As persons intimately
familiar with the historic Civil Rights struggles who run a program based upon Civil
Rights ideology, Maya and Brian must therefore constantly work to maintain
AABSS’ legacy, while still conceiving of new ways to reach a new generation of
students.
Chicano/a Student Services: Understandings of Racial Identity
While there is a great deal of literature written on African American college
students, reflecting the centrality of the African American experience to discourses
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of race, less has been written about Chican@ and Latin@ students. However, that
which has been written is reminiscent of some of the same themes characterizing
research on Black students, namely the emphasis on the significance of racism in
shaping students’ experiences (Hurtado and Carter, 1997). However, the literature
on Latin@ students is also more diffuse, examining issues of language and
immigration which are not as often viewed as relevant to the lives of African
American students (Garrod, Kilkenny, and Gomez, 2007).
Part of the difficulty in conducting research on Latin@ students and serving
Latin@ students is the panethnic nature of the group which makes broad
generalizations inherently tenuous. Hence, the complications of panethnicity and its
political implications are fundamental to Chicano/a Student Services’ understanding
of Chican@ and Latin@ identity. A key example of CSS’ struggle with identity
issues is reflected in the debate over its name. CSS’ name, specifically its usage of
the term “Chicano/a” has been a foundational component of the center’s identity
since its establishment. CSS was founded during a time when a vast range of
Chicano activism was permeating the Southwest U.S. Consequently, given that the
Latin@ population of Southern California was predominantly Mexican and Mexican
American, it was logical for CU activists to utilize the identity label of Chicano in
naming the office. However, in recent years the appropriateness and desirability of
describing the office with a Chicano/a label has been questioned. As Nicholas, a
high ranking administrator, noted,
it’s interesting, cause the name says a lot. And so we just had a conversation
today, a lady called and was complaining about the name, yeah, and she’s
Columbian. She’s a parent, she was a parent, she was from Columbia, and
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she was like, why are you called Chicano? Like, that’s not inclusive. I think,
there’s, when you’re, when you have a ethnic label connected to you, it’s
very sensitive already because not everybody’s gonna connect with that one
ethnic label.

Nicholas went on to say that every few weeks, he hears rumblings about the issue,
with some students suggesting that because they do not identify with the label of
Chicano/a, the name should be changed, while others arguing that the name should
be retained due to its historical significance. In light of such concerns, the current
administration of CSS has left the name “Chicano/a Student Services” up for debate.
To provoke student thinking on the subject, a key administrator has even suggested
to students that the office be renamed Latino/a Student Services or simply the Center
for Students. When students have balked at such suggestions, Nicholas has told his
students,
But you all have to challenge yourselves, and I have to challenge myself. Is
the goal just to make sure that you know, some of us feel good, and some of
us feel connected, or is there really a way that we can have everyone feel
connected?

This sort of prodding on the part of Nicholas illustrates his willingness to question
the current identity formations put forth by Chicano/a Student Services, as well as to
push his students to reconsider these same identity formations and their meaning.
The discussion surrounding the usage of the term Chicano/a illustrates the
contested and political nature of racial minority identities even within minority
communities themselves. That is, as Nicholas notes, the Chicano/a label may not be
appealing to other ethnic members of the Latin@ community, such as the Colombian
mother who called to complain about the name of the office. Furthermore, even
Mexican and Mexican American students may not identify as Chicano/a, associating
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the term with radicals of a by-gone era. Thus, the debate regarding the identity
formation of Chicano/a is reflective of the post-Civil Rights era, in which not only
the overall racial population is becoming more diverse, but the internal diversity of
minority groups is increasingly coming to light (Espiritu, 1994; Padilla, 1985).
The internal diversity of the Latin@ community and its effects on students’
identities is of great concern to Chicano/a Student Services’ current administration.
Nicholas is well aware of this diversity given that he himself is not Chican@,
Mexican, or Mexican American, rather he is Guatemalan-American. Furthermore,
Nicholas points out that among the student population, there is an increasing number
of “Central/South Americans,” “Caribbeans,” and “biracial students.” Because CSS
is concerned with developing its students’ racial and political consciousness,
Nicholas and his staff have increasingly made efforts to create programming and
services which embrace the ethnic diversity of the community. For example, instead
of solely celebrating Mexican Independence Day, CSS has now created a month long
celebration of Latin American Independence, in which various programs are put on
to educate the student body of Latin American countries’ struggle for sovereignty.
Moreover, the long standing, traditional celebration of El Dia de los Muertos - Day
of the Dead – has been altered to include components which recognize the ways in
which other countries besides Mexico celebrate the component. By making such
adjustments, Chicano/a Student Services hopes to be inclusive and embracing of the
many different Latin ethnic groups on campus, and in so doing, hopes to positively
affirm students’ identities.

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The recognition and celebration of the Latin@ community’s diversity on the
part of Chicano/a Student Services increasingly moves beyond racial and ethnic
boundaries. More specifically, CSS has recently made efforts to address other
identity issues among students, particularly that of socioeconomic class, gender, and
sexual orientation. Nicholas in particular has stated that addressing intersectionality
is the direction I’m wanting to take the center, and that’s the direction that the
students have been moving with me on it, and it’s only been six months, but
it’s been a good, exciting six months, and I think that’s kind of our banner of
just wanting to really be inclusive.

While Nicholas contends that both he and the students have been moving in this
“direction,” it is clear from his own statements and attendance at various events, that
he and other staff members are the ones taking on the leadership roles in changing
programming to address themes of intersectionality. For example, CSS
administrators spearheaded organization of a book discussion with an African
American, male author who had written a book on minority relations within the gay
community. The event was co-sponsored by the Gay and Lesbian Student Programs
Office. Yet in spite of such collaboration, few students turned out for the event. In
comparison, “traditional” events which focus on Mexican, Mexican American, and
Latin@ cultures, such as the annual posada, can yield student turnouts in the
hundreds. Hence, it is tempting to conclude the CSS is pushing intersetionality
themed programming on students. However, the more fitting assessment, is that CSS
is simply recognizing the changing dynamics of the Latin@ student population and is
making progressive efforts to address these changes. This may mean that initially

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turnouts will be low for some events until they become more regularized, traditional
events.
The struggle that Chicano/a Student Services thus faces in understanding and
addressing students’ racial identities is rooted in the great complexities of these
identities. The ethnic diversity of Latin@ students in itself is increasingly vast.
While Chicano/a Student Services previously focused on serving a predominantly
Mexican American population who felt close ties and identification with the term
“Chicano/a,” it now is confronted by a student population of Salvadoreans,
Colombians, Belizeans, and Mexicans and Mexican Americans, whose ethnic,
cultural, and political backgrounds are diverse. These students may not identify as
Chican@ and may not even identify as Latin@, preferring to identify themselves on
an ethnic basis. Couple this ethnic diversity with issues of gender, sexuality, and
socioeconomic status, and Chicano/a Student Services’ mission and tasks become
infinitely more complex.
Moreover, just as African American/Black Student Services has faced
numerous obstacles in fostering racial consciousness among their Black students,
Chicano/a Student Services has also faced the same struggles which come along with
servicing a post-Civil Rights generation of students. Reflecting on the salience of
racial identity for Latin@ students, Nicholas states, “I think for some of them [the
Latin@ students] it is very significant but from others I get a sense that it is still
significant, but they wish it wasn’t as significant as it is.” Nicolas’ statement is
reminiscent of those made by Maya and Brian, who contended that a segment of the
Black student population today want to be known as individuals, with their racial
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identities relegated to the background. Therefore, it is evident that both African
American, as well as Latin@ students, are susceptible to the ideological messages of
colorblindness, as some students within these populations reject the idea that race is
still preeminent, while at the same time remaining subject to racial discrimination.
As Nicholas notes, he has observed and had contact with Latin@ students who feel
they are not getting “access” to the education which they desire and who are
frustrated that they are not being viewed as “human beings,” but as their race.
In light of the numerous obstacles to facilitating racial consciousness among
a diverse, post-Civil Rights generation of Latin@ students, Chicano/a Student
Services is still optimistic about the futures of these students. Nicholas expresses his
hopes in the following statement:
And then hopefully, when all that is happening, you have a very diverse,
exciting, impactful, you know, synergy that’s happening, and there’s a lot of
learning going on, and a lot of coalition-building, a lot of understanding, a lot
of raising awareness, which hopefully will spin into when all these folks
graduate, and they’re a CEO, and they’re you know, the president, and
they’re you know, a lawyer, and they’re a teacher, they’re all these important
positions. That they spread that energy and that understanding and that
awareness, not just for their own selves, but for everyone else involved. And
they step up, you know, for other people, or for other students or other, you
know, community members, not just their own. You know, that they have a
greater understanding.

Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services:
Understandings of Racial Identity

A common image of Asian Pacific American students is that of the model
minority – the almost robotic-like brainiac who is a math/science/computer geek and
inevitably socially clumsy (Aguilar San-Juan, 1993; Endo, 1990; Lee, 2004). Yet
such an image, which constrains the APA identity, is fallacious on many levels.
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First, the image was produced in the late seventies as a means to distinguish APAs
from African Americans and Latin@s and portray APAs as the “good minorities”
(Lee, 2004). That is, by conceiving of Asian Pacific Americans as high achieving,
white Americans were given a basis for criticizing the Black and Latin@
communities and mockingly asking these communities “if they can do it, why can’t
you?” Second, the image is empirically inaccurate, ignoring the socioeconomic
diversity of the community. For instance, groups such as Cambodians have faced
great economic struggles, while Chinese Americans in aggregate display high
educational and income levels (Yang, 2004).
The model minority image is fundamental to the Center for Asian Pacific
American Student Services’ understanding of racial identity, in that the Center
moves to dispel this image and recognizes the diversity of Asian Pacific American
students. Much like the Latin@ community on campus, the APA community is
panethnic in nature, creating a range of identity formations among students, in which
students may identify with their ethnic group, as well as with the panethnic identity
of Asian American or Asian Pacific American. Reflecting on the generational and
regional forces underlying these identity formations, Jason, a key administrator with
CAPASS, notes,
There are now pockets of communities [in Los Angeles] where people are
living with each other that are multi-ethnic. Fifteen-twenty years ago, you
could see where the Koreans lived, Chinese lived, Japanese lived...and they
were in distinct pockets. Although we have those ethnic centers still…Korea
town, Little Tokyo, Chinatown, Little Saigon….in the suburbs…it’s less
distinct. It’s becoming more Pan-Asian Communities. So if you go to San
Gabriel Valley which historically was just Chinese…you will see Vietnamese
and other Southeast Asians and remnants of historic Japanese. The Chinese
community by itself is not homogenous either. You’ve got all kinds of
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Chinese under that Chinese umbrella….Hong Kong and Taiwanese
Americans…if you go to Hacienda Heights or Roland Heights and look up
and down a street like Colima, you will see a Korean restaurant next to a
Vietnamese restaurant next to a Hong Kong supermarket. You never saw
that before. Now you do. There are high school kids growing up now and
know what eating pho is and who can drink boba and listen to Korean pop
music and sing Karaoke. It’s a little more seamless to an Asian American
experience. That’s inevitable in a place like Southern California where
there’s land resources and the community begins to move out of the ethnic
towns that the first generation typically congregated around. The second
generation is beginning to move out to the suburbs but moving out to other
areas where there are other Asians. You can go to Walnut and see a Filipino
restaurant- Goldilocks Bakery and again a Taiwanese or Chinese market
down the street. Low and behold you go to a public school and you sit in the
classroom and you have Santos next to a Wong and you never really saw that
except in the last probably 20 years…then coming to a campus like CU then
the CAPASS dept. has the ability to highlight that experience…

Thus, one of the ways in which CAPASS conceives of students’ identities, while
simultaneously rejecting the model minority image, is by embracing and reaffirming
students’ diverse experiences. For instance, the center has sought to reflect the
ethnic diversity of its community by hiring Indians, Filipin@s, Koreans, and
Vietnamese as staff members and placing them in leadership positions, rather than
persons from the traditionally most dominant Asian ethnic groups, such as the
Japanese and Chinese.
CAPASS has also sought to counteract the purported political apathy which
comes along with the model minority image, as well as the real political apathy
which too often characterizes the APA community on campus. In particular,
CAPASS has asserted, through its programming, the contention that students’ racial
identities should be ones which yield political consciousness. While Jason does not
see his students as wholly apathetic, he does find the issues with which students
concern themselves to be problematic. He argues that students’ willingness to
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protest about issues such as “Asian caricatures on Ambercrombie t-shirts or
derogatory images in the media,” are small matters compared to other social
injustices which affect the Asian Pacific American community. As a result,
CAPASS programming reflects attempts to compel students to formulate racial
identities and political consciousnesses that understand these social injustices. To
that end, CAPASS has made a concerted effort to build long term relationships with
Asian Pacific American community organizations and APA political leaders in the
surrounding metropolitan region. Students are placed in mentorship or community
service programs which work with these organizations and leaders. This type of
programming is designed to foster both racial and political consciousness among
students.
Historical and Contemporary Relations Among African/American Black
Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific
American Student Services

As indicated through the philosophies and activities of African
American/Black Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for
Asian Pacific American Student Services, there are both similarities and differences
between each of the student service offices. Some of the differences highlighted,
such as CAPASS’ emphasis on political issues versus AABSS’ emphasis on
educational issues, are indicative of deeper divisions and tensions between the three
student service units. Historic and contemporary relations between the three units of
race based student services, and between their corresponding student populations on
campus, indicate a disconnect between particular minority groups, most prominently
characterized by a separation between Asian Pacific Americans and their Black and
245
Chicano/Latino/a counterparts. The primary implication of this finding is twofold:
(1) the disjunction between the units supports the broader ideology of left-liberal
multiculturalism, in which the monoracial identities upon which the offices are built
are assumed to be appropriate, correct, and reflective of real differences, which
constitute a valid premise for separation, and (2) such divisions between groups of
color consequently result in a lack of coalition building and co-sponsorship among
AABSS, CSS, and CAPASS.
Both administrators and students frequently enumerated differences between
APA students and their Black and Chican@/Latin@ counterparts, and at times, these
stated differences led to racial stereotyping. One of the key differences is that
CAPASS does not focus on retention
39
. Maya, an administrator of AABSS, clearly
stated, “My four action verbs for my job are: Attract, Recruit, Retain, and Graduate
Black students.” In contrast, Jason, a key administrator within CAPASS, stated that
our office was the last to be created by the university. Stereotypically you
would see APAs as not needy and politically passive. Dedicating resources
in the same way to Latino/a and Black student services did not make sense.
Now APAs do not have the same issue in terms of attrition and retention.

These purported differences between African American and APA students’ needs
tended to become conflated with racial stereotyping, further enhancing the divisions
between the three offices and their respective student populations. In particular,

39
A vast array of research supports the assertion that African American and Latino/a retention rates
lag behind their Asian American and white counterparts. In Swail, Redd, and Perna’s (2003) Report
Retaining Minority Students in Higher Education, Black and Latino/a students are shown to have
lower rates of persistence and bachelor’s degree completion overall at both public and private four
year institutions. The following charts present data which illustrates these disparate rates:

246
interviews with both directors and students revealed a continued presence of the
passive model minority image. Gary, an AABSS student contended,
I think for some reason it is easier for people to accept [CAPASS]. I guess
it’s because [they] might be viewed as more cultural and we would be viewed
as more political. This would be because we were the first ones to start a
revolution about Civil Rights. I mean people know if you’re not doin’ right
they know that [Black student services] is gonna say, ‘you’re trippin.’

Given the presence of these types of stereotypes, which conceive of APA students as
pseudo-whites who do not face “real” racial issues, the administration of CAPASS
appeared to express some resentment and frustration about the persistence of the
model minority image and a perceived adverse impact on serious attention paid by
the institution to their office. Jason, felt that “it’s a population that has been
overlooked…the emphasis has been focused on other traditionally disadvantaged
communities [African Americans and Latinos].” Furthermore, both students and the
administration of CAPASS lamented what they perceived as inadequate funding,
office space, and administrative attention in comparison to Black and Chicano/a
student service programming.
While interviewees emphasized the purported differences between the Asian
American community and their African American and Latin@ counterparts, they
concurrently reaffirmed the notion that African Americans and Latin@s share many
commonalities and that these commonalities result in a closer relationship between
students from these particular racial groups. Administrators, in particular Maya and
Jason, made statements contending that African Americans and Latin@s similarly
experience racism and socioeconomic obstacles, while APAs tend to be the most
privileged of the three groups. In her interview, Maya contended,
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The Black and Latin@ students do share a lot in common even though there
are cultural differences. Both of them know what it’s like to be minorities on
a white campus or in a white neighborhood, while the Asians, the Asians
together with the whites here are the majority. They [Black and Latin@]
students have had more experiences with people telling them they shouldn’t
be here or being racially profiled by Public Safety.

In contrast, Jason asserted that Asian American students had much different
experiences than most African Americans and Latin@s on campus:
Asians….have survival skills that have been embedded into them by their
parents in terms of in order to survive in this world you need to be more
White. You need to stay away from Blacks or Latinos or at least not have
them negatively affect your ability to rise to the status of a White person.
You look at our Asian American students on campus and there’s a good
percentage of them who grew up in White neighborhoods or who grew up in
maybe split Asian and White neighborhoods but socially whose best friends
may have been if not Asian then White.

These supposed differences between Black and Latin@ and Asian Pacific American
students shaped Maya, Jason, and Nicholas’ treatment of their students, as well as
the programming that they designed. In keeping with her commitment to be “student
centered,” Maya described herself as Black students’ “mother away from home.”
Also exhibiting a more personalized and intensive approach to servicing students,
Nicholas helped to maintain the Latino Parents Association. Jason, the CAPASS
administrator specifically rejected Maya’s approach to student services, which
involved a great deal of interaction with student organizations, including primarily
social organizations:
You don’t have an CAPASS department so Asian Pacific American students
have a place to hang out. You don’t have a CAPASS department so that
Asian Pacific American students can somehow remotely feel like they’re
valued just because there is a CAPASS department.

248
Instead, Jason chose to focus on issues such as professional development and
building relationships Asian American community organizations.
It should be noted here that in speaking about their positions and racial issues
on campus, there appeared to be some underlying tension between Maya and Jason.
For example, although Nicholas was newly appointed to his position at the time of
this study, Maya still stated that she felt closer to Nicholas rather than Jason, who she
stated “did his own thing.” Moreover, Maya expressed somewhat stereotypical
views of Asian Pacific American students, stating that “unfortunately, the Asian
students isolate themselves.” Jason also voiced criticism of Maya during his
interviews, contending that Maya was not that “politically conscious.” These more
personal, ideological differences over race have only exacerbated the divide between
African American and Asian American students.
As a consequence of the divisions among African American Student
Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific American
Student Services, co-sponsored events are rare, limited to approximately 3 small
scale events or less per year. The only major event which involves the three student
service units is an annual Multicultural Luncheon which includes different speakers
and forums on a variety of “diversity” issues, such as affirmative action. The other
annual event is focused on the creative arts and is termed “Soulsa,” which only
involves AABSS and CSS and is constituted by a poetry night. Nicholas in
particular voiced concern about the absence of cohesive coalition building, but also
indicated that limitations in funding, time, and staff militated against this sort of
work. Nicolas stated
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I’ve told the students I think it’s time you start working across your
communities…but it’s hard you know because it’s so easy to get wrapped up
in all of the issues in your own community, and then to add to that working
with another community…it’s more to do. But I think that’s where we need
to go.

Thus, in spite of a common history rooted in ethnic studies movements,
differing concerns and cultures translate into relatively autonomous, monoracially
oriented, student service offices. While AABSS, CSS, and CCAPASS in part seek to
dismantle racial stereotypes, they also at times contribute to racial stereotypes by
focusing on their differences rather than their commonalities. Moreover, the office’s
intense engagement with the politics of difference functions to further discourage
interaction between African American, Latin@, and Asian Pacific American students
on campus.
Relationship with the Larger University: In Defense of Race Based Student
Services

While African American/Black Student Services, the Center for Asian Pacific
American Student Services, and Chicano/a Student Services have managed to
survive at California University in spite of the forces of colorblindness which have
recently permeated political discourses and policy on race, there is still a sense of
disconnect between these services and the larger university. I utilize the term
“disconnect” to describe ongoing tension coupled with an absence of full
institutional integration. Although administrators from the three offices generally
stated that they felt supported by the institution at large, they did note that several
specific aspects of the offices’ relationship with the university needed to be
improved. Feelings of alienation and marginalization revolved around three key
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issues: (1) scarce funding, (2) the continuing Eurocentric, white culture of the
university, and (3) the perception of unfair judgments of student services. In racial
formations parlance, these issues reveal the unequal ways in which racial groups are
organized and represented on campus, as well as the ways in which resources are
distributed along racial lines.
These various forms of structural disconnect reflect the struggles of a racial
project of left-liberal multiculturalism to secure power and equitable resources on
campus. These struggles frequently bring communities of color on campus together,
yet may also pigeonhole students into an oppressed status.
Positive Relations with the Larger Institution
In general, administrators and staff members of the three race based student
service units stated that they felt the university administration supported them in
their mission and endeavors. Brian, a key administrator within African
American/Black Student Services, described the relationship between AABSS and
the larger university as
Good. Definitely. I feel that we could always get more money. We could
always ask for more office space. But, I think that’s the plight of any budget
or anybody. I don’t think we’re unique in that aspect. I do feel that we do
get a tremendous amount of support from the hierarchy within the division of
our superiors. I definitely feel that there is support there.

Similarly, Nicholas, a high ranking administrator within Chicano/a Student Services
conveyed positive feelings about his office’s interactions with university
administration: “…surprisingly, it has been very positive in my experience thus far.
It’s very rare that I’ve met people who are very resistant to what we’ve been trying
to do, or have questioned it.”
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Brian and Nicholas’ assertions illustrate progress in the relationship between
race based student services and the administration of California University. While
African American/Black Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and Center
for Asian Pacific American Student Services were born out of strife between
students of color and CU, they now have become integrated into the university, with
their own staff, funding, and office space. A large force which has further driven the
institutional integration of the offices is the current political climate. That is, as
previously noted, CU has taken great pains to take advantage of competing public
universities’ inability to utilize affirmative action and create race based programming
and policies in the post-209 era. It has sought to portray itself as friendly to and
inclusive of students of color, and accommodating AABSS, CSS, and CAPASS has
helped to augment this portrayal.
Alienation from the White University

In spite of CU’s efforts to create a healthy and positive relationship with
AABSS, CSS, and CAPASS, and administrators’ acknowledgement of such efforts,
a great deal of interview data suggests that there are still many ways in which
AABSS, CSS, and CAPASS feel alienated and marginalized from the larger
university. Dissension between the race based student service offices and the CU
administration has revolved around funding, racism on campus, and purportedly
unfair portrayals of the offices.
Funding: Who Gets What?

Data collection revealed funding as contested terrain, substantiating the
notion that these student service offices are derivative of racial projects of the sixties
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and seventies, which directly entailed “effort[s] to redistribute resources along racial
lines” (Omi and Winant, 1994, p.56) The conflict over funding thus reflects the
continuance of larger political dissension regarding funding for programs/services
for communities of color, such as affirmative action.
All high ranking administrators characterized funding of their offices and
programs as limited, and problematic. The hard money provided by student affairs
was frequently supplemented by soft money obtained through the office’s individual
efforts. Nicholas, from Chicano/a Student Services, stated, “we’re generally a small,
modest department,” and Maya, from African American/Black Student Services,
asserted, “I think you [the university administration] could do a better job inside
campus by giving our office more money.” Moreover, frequently implied was the
belief that such limited funding is not simply the consequence of the strapped
budgets of all student affairs offices, but rather is related to the historically marginal
status of the offices. Maya, indicated that her office “has to go to outside sources to
get more funding” because “it is not going to come from the university.” Such
sentiments of discontent were also expressed by student participants. Carmela, a CSS
student staff member, lamented,
I mean, I think the administration treats these offices badly…like, for
example when they redid this building last summer, they left out the air
conditioning for these offices, and they said it was a mistake; it was too late
to fix it. But you go down the hall to the V.P.’s office and they have their air
conditioning.

Here, the Vice President’s office can be understood as a physical and symbolic
locale of institutionalized white power, with race based student services occupying
an oppositional, marginal position.
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The problematic nature of funding yields consequential results for race based
student services’ relationship with their student constituents, as well as the larger
student body. First, the scarcity of funding substantiates a divide between these
services and the university, and in turn, further induces feelings of marginalization in
the students of color serviced by these offices. Students of color often perceive the
inadequate funding given AABSS, CSS, and LSS as indicative of the university’s
disregard for their well being on campus. Second, fiscal stress makes it structurally
difficult for race based student services to engage in more co-sponsorship, which can
potentially help to bridge racial gaps on campus, such as that between African
American and Asian American students. That is, these student services are already
faced with daily challenges of sustenance as they struggle to “make ends meet,” and
provide diverse services and programming for their students. As Nicolas, an
administrator within Chicano/a Student Services indicated,
I wanted to maybe change things, and not get rid of the [Latino/a heritage]
month, but do 2-3 high quality events, and then spread other events
throughout the year, and that way we can focus on a broader range of the
Latin American countries, not just Mexico. But…I mean we can’t do
everything, you know? The funding’s just not there.

Hence, even those directors such as Nicolas, who desire to include more diverse
programming, are continually constrained by resource limitations.
White Hegemony of University Campuses:
Creating “Safe Space” and “A Home Away from Home”

Another primary manifestation of alienation from the white university is
conflict with the perceived white, Eurocentric culture of the university.
Administrators and participants of programming indicted colorblindness ideology by
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voicing their opinions, explicitly and implicitly, that race is still an “issue,” in spite
of acknowledged progressions. Or in racial formations parlance, these directors and
students understand race to be a major “social axis” around which their lives turn on
the university campus. Thus, one of the paramount reasons given for the creation of
specialized student service programming for Black, Latin@, and APA students was
to create a sense of “safe space” and “home” for students of color alienated by
universities dominated by whiteness.
Administrators of RBSS at CU clearly described sentiments of alienation,
marginalization, bitterness and anger when asked about the experiences of students
of color on campus. As Nicholas, a key administrator from CSS, stated,
the students have a bittersweet relationship with the university in terms of
diversity and racial issues. But I think it’s like a half and half. I think they
feel comfortable, they like it here, but there’s also things that they feel like
they could change and make better, if not for themselves, for future Latino
and Chicano students that come after them.

Student participants further conveyed discontent with racial mistreatment on campus,
ranging from discrimination by campus public safety, to prejudiced curriculum.
Sarah, a Black student who participated in AABSS programming, voiced her
frustration regarding the presence of controlling images on campus:
Well I’ve been racially profiled by Public Safety on three occasions, in front
of my own dorm….it just helps me realize how I’ll be treated in the real
world, irrespective of any degree I have…the stereotypes we get are that
we’re from the ‘hood, we’re thugs, we’re poor. People will act afraid or
they’ll just ignore us, like they don’t have to acknowledge us.

Such experiences confirm that for the students of color interviewed, their racial
status as non-whites remains a salient component of their lives on campus.
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In light of such racialized experiences, race based service offices become
perceived as providers of a safe haven from the predominantly white hegemonic
culture of the university which at times exerts racial discrimination against students
of color. This is confirmed both through a brief review of race based student
services’ promotional materials, such as brochures, and through interviews.
Examples of how the offices portrayed themselves as a “home away from home,”
include the following:
• A flyer for Chicano/a Student Services asserts that the office
“supports students in their total development: familial, cultural,
social, economic, moral, intellectual, and physical.”

• A brochure for African American/Black Student Services states
that the office “serves as a foundation for the Black population.”

• A Chicano/a Student Services resource handbook states that the
office helps “you in building your CASA away from home.”

• The main website for race based student services states that the
offices “Create a welcoming and supportive environment for
African American, American Indian, Asian Pacific American, and
Chicano Latino/a students.”

The messages conveyed in these materials were confirmed as valid by
interview participants. For people of color, the historic need to create community
and identity in the face of oppression continues to guide students’ and staff’s actions
in shaping race based programming. Administrators and student participants pointed
to tangible indicators of safe space, such as being surrounded by people of the same
“background,” or being with others who celebrate the same holidays. In an interview
with Maya, an AABSS administrator, she stated, “Students can come up here and
kick back, like it’s their space, their home. Like they can be talking about cooking
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soul food.” Ryan, a Mexican American student participant, conveyed feelings
representative of other student participants: “Coming up here [to the Chicano/a
Student Services office], I just know I’m at home. Like I can just be me, just kick it
and feel comfortable.” Thus, there is a sense of comfort, stability, and communality
provided by race based student services.
However, James and other students, acknowledged that there was a downside
to responding to institutional racism by creating insulated environments.
Characterizations utilized by students most often included a description of campus
relations as racially “cliquish,” and some admitted that race based student services
might very well add to this cliquishness. Millie, a Japanese American student
participant in CAPASS programming, observed that
on this campus, different races interact, but usually it can be pretty superficial
if you know what I mean. Generally people gravitate towards others of the
same race or ethnicity, so it becomes difficult to get out of that mold and
make close friends with other people. Usually the [interracial] relationships
will be more like acquaintances.

Furthermore, Johanna, a Chicana student participant stated,

I guess the one drawback of [Chicano/a Student Services] is that it is sort of
naturally self segregating. But at the same time, this gives us strength
because I think we have the most challenges because we’re actually part of
the indigenous population in the U.S. And this makes things difficult for us
because we are living in a land that is really ours, but you have people telling
us that we don’t belong here.

Comments like Johanna’s illustrate the complex consequences of race based student
services’ reactions to campus racism. On the one hand, RBSS function as a safe
haven for students of color who feel they are not fully welcomed by the university.
Yet on the other hand, by creating racially insular environments to mitigate negative
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experiences of racism, AABSS, CSS, and CAPASS become less likely to function as
programs which facilitate interracial interaction among students. Moreover, given
the left-liberal multicultural project which guides these race based student services,
they are unlikely to engage with students who conceive of race in different terms,
such as African students who see themselves as having little in common with native
born African American students. Instead, in focusing on fostering racially insular
communities which provide support for students, race based student services tend to
reify traditional racial categories and identities.
Race Based Services Under Attack: Perceptions of Unfair Judgment

Much like other race based programming, such as ethnic studies programs,
African American/Blacks Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the
Center for Asian Pacific American Student Services often feel that they are the target
of unfair judgments by administrators and students who do not understand the
histories or purpose. At CU, a newspaper board editorial from the fall semester of
2002 engaged in a colorblind driven critique of such programming:
While their populations may not make up a large percentage of the overall
student body, there are a wide variety of diverse populations represented on
campus. There are also groups on campus that, regardless of pleas and
demands for diversity, have limited themselves to ethnic backgrounds when
creating their clubs and programs.

Editorials such as these reflect the continued insidiousness of white privilege and
whiteness as the normative, dominant identity shaping campus race relations, against
which communities and identities of color must assert themselves. Moreover, such
attacks further contribute to these offices’ marginal status and hence result in
increased adherence to racial identities (which is interestingly enough exactly what
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the attackers do not want) specifically monoracial identities, as communities of color
seek to find solace and foster strength on campus.
The experience of continual, forced, justification of these offices’ existence
places undue stress on the directors and staff of the offices, as well as student
participants. Ryan, an African American student who participates in AABSS
programming, contended that the “administration wishes we would just go away.”
Administrators such as Maya, alluded to subtle, but constant fears, that the
administration may “try and combine us into one office.” Hence, in the post-
affirmative action era in California, these offices are continually threatened with
marginality, even extinction. In turn, these threats make it difficult for directors to
address all of students’ needs and identities. Therefore, student service offices
retreat to the most recognizable, solidified racial identities and groupings, which
because of their roots in the racial projects of Civil Rights, provide the most tangible
source of support and delineate their anti racist cause clearly, in the face of
continuing crises.
California University: The Future – Will it be Race Consciousness?
The left-liberal multicultural racial project in play at California University is
rife with complications and pitfalls, yet also bodes a more promising racial future
than if a colorblind racial project were being propagated by the university. With its
roots in the cultural nationalist movements of the sixties and early seventies, the left-
liberal multicultural racial project is indeed dated in many ways. For example, it
tends to ignore or minimize the salience of other identities to people’s lived
experiences, such as gender and sexuality identities. This weakness is reflected in
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CU’s race based student services. With the exception of Nicholas, a new, high
ranking administrator from CSS, who seems exceptionally progressive, the offices
tend to focus exclusively on monoracial issues. Yet it might behoove the offices to
create a more expansive focus, while still centering race, as the proliferation of
numerous clubs on campus, from Mujeres Unidas, to Brothers of Consciousness,
reflect students’ engagement with intersectionality.
As much as race based student services operating under a left-liberal
multicultural racial project face obstacles and need to constantly be abreast of
changing racial dynamics on and off campus, they are in a much better position than
services operating under a colorblind racial project. For all its faults, CU is an
institution which is supporting student services which can directly address the needs
of students of color. Neither administrators of RBSS, nor the students they serve, are
asked to “check” their racial identities at the door. As a result of such racial
openness, CU is better positioning itself to be an institution that is recognized for
embracing, rathering than running away from issues of race. However, to truly merit
such recognition, CU’s efforts must be sincere and avoid posturing. As Jason, a
CAPASS administrator succinctly stated, “supporting diversity cannot and should
not simply be a ‘cover your butt’ measure.”
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Chapter 4: Bay University
A Majority-Minority School Struggles and
Embraces Multiculturalism
Introduction
When one steps onto Bay University’s campus, the difference between BU
and the vast majority of other colleges and universities is strikingly evident. At BU
most of the students are African American and Latin@. Two minority groups, who
are often viewed by white America as perpetually poor, criminal, and lacking in
work ethos, find opportunity on BU’s campus – the opportunity to achieve and to
attain a college degree (Noguera and Yonemura, 2006). While it offers great
opportunity to masses of Latin@ and African American students which were often
unavailable for previous generations, the university still represents ongoing racial
inequality in higher education, as well as in larger society. The majority of its
students are commuter students who have familial and work responsibilities that the
average middle or upper class student at Western University and California
University does not. Moreover, a substantial number of BU students are returning
students who have children, full-time jobs, and a range of life experiences and
challenges, from military service to divorce, to which traditional age college students
have not been exposed. The social disadvantages faced by BU students are not
simply rooted in class inequalities, they are also the consequence of racial
oppression, of the denial of equal opportunities to people of color. In addition to the
racial inequalities BU students face prior to arrival on campus, BU in itself manifests
various forms of racial inequalities. More specifically, from the perspective of
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students, compared to other state colleges in California, BU lacks comparable
facilities and also does not retain a faculty which reflects the student population.
BU’s present day struggles with issues of race can be traced to its
establishment and short history, which is characterized by relatively steady conflict
between the school and the community. In contrast to WU and CU, we see much
more outside, community activism in the affairs of BU, perhaps because BU students
have always been primarily commuters and are thus, just as much members of the
community as they are of the university. Examining BU’s racial history gives
important context for understanding the university’s contemporary racial issues.
More specifically, BU’s history indicates that Blacks have long been the “dominant”
minority on campus, engaged in the most activism, with Latin@s trailing far behind.
Yet in spite of African Americans’ and Latin@s’ strength on BU’s campus, an
assessment of current day racial projects at BU reveals that multiculturalism is the
primary understanding of race permeating the campus today.
A racial project of multiculturalism is propagated by the institution via the
office of Multicultural Student Affairs (MSA). Multicultural Student Affairs carries
out programming which reflects the cultures of African Americans, Latin@s, Asian
Pacific Americans, and Middle Eastern Americans. In so doing, MSA tends to take a
culturally oriented approach to understanding race and in turn, does not frequently
address issues such as institutional racism. Clearly, this is problematic considering
that the vast majority of BU’s student population is confronted by institutional
racism on a daily basis, as most come from segregated communities and attend a
university which lacks the resources of many of its counterparts.
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History of Bay University
Bay University is the newest of the campuses in this study. According to the
university’s website (accessed May, 2007), the establishment of BU dates back to
1960 when California Governor Pat Brown approved a bill for a new state college.
Initially the university was to be built in a relatively affluent, suburban, and
somewhat rural area, but in 1965, following the Watts civil unrest, the proposed
location was changed to a metropolitan area adjacent to inner city communities.
According to the university’s website, the governor and his allies advocated for the
new location, as it would provide the “best accessibility to minorities who want
college education.” Early on then, Bay University distinguished itself from other
local and regional universities by explicitly focusing on minority student
populations. This was most clearly exemplified through BU’s substantial Black
population. According to the university archivist, the earliest year for which
enrollment statistics
40
were available was the Fall of 1976
41
, and these statistics are
incomplete, as for an unknown reason there is a high number of non-respondents.
However, they do indicate that BU already had a large population of Black students
when compared to similar colleges:
American Indian 0.6%
Black 18%
Filipino 0.4%
Mexican American 3.5%

40
The racial/ethnic labels are those utilized by the university itself in archival documents.
41
The university archivist was uncertain as to why no enrollment statistics from 1968 – 1975 were not
available. He stated that he believed collection of data during the early years was not required and
conducted on an ad hoc basis.
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Latin American 0.5%
Oriental 4.0%
Other Non-White 0.8%
Caucasian 28%
Other Ethnic 0.7%
No Response 43%
During this same year, similar colleges in the region had Black enrollments of 6%,
3.6%, and 1.5% (Student Affirmative Action Task Force Report – Phase I Access,
1977).
Hence, early on, BU became recognized as an institution which was open to
minority students, in particular Black students. Yet this focus also became
problematic in the university’s early days, as conservative political forces attempted
to derail BU’s establishment. The newly elected Governor Ronald Reagan, who in
part built his campaign around promises to reign in liberal and leftist activism and
interests at California’s public colleges and universities, proposed that the
establishment and construction of the new university be halted. Protests by
community supporters of BU proved successful in neutralizing Reagan’s attacks and
the new university was soon constructed.
In spite of being newly established, socio-political activities at BU soon
reflected the larger trends and movements permeating other campuses, such as ethnic
studies and cultural nationalist movements. The university administration showed
awareness that simply because BU was a new university did not mean that they
would be immune to the socio-political forces of the day. Early on, for instance, the
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university president issued a memo (1968) stating that the university should strive to
work “effectively” with students in order to avoid the kinds of disruptions plaguing
other campuses throughout the country. Yet either his call was not heeded or
practitioners’ understanding of working “effectively” with students was limited, for
BU soon experienced the same racial and social issues as other campuses.
Racialized Activism in the 1960s and 1970s
African American students wasted no time in mobilizing during the first year
of the university’s establishment. For example, in 1968, Bay University’s Black
Student Union mobilized, advocating for an Afro-American Studies program, and in
1969 the United Mexican American Students Association proposed a Mexican
American Studies major. The creation of these programs was not without strife. In
the case of the Afro-American Studies program, the university president was accused
by the Black Caucus (an organization consisting of students, faculty, staff, and
community members) of being unresponsive to the expressed need for such a
program and denying funding (Black Caucus, Bay University, 1970). As a result,
members of the Black Caucus staged a demonstration at the president’s residence in
an affluent suburb, which also happened to house other key members of the
university administration. The Caucus sent residents of the suburb explaining their
qualms and reasons for protest:
We feel that you who reside in the same community with these men have a
duty to make known to them your concern and distaste for their total
unresponsiveness toward the Black Studies program at this school. Although
the school is located several miles [from the suburb in which you reside] it is
bounded by the large Black community…The Curriculum Master Plan for the
college do not reflect the needs of the ethnic communities. Instead, although
unsatisfactorily, it would be suited for the predominantly white upper class
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students who reside in your community (Black Caucus, Bay University,
1970).

Eventually the program was established but experienced conflict well into the
1980s. In 1971, Garrett Johnson, an Afro-American History instructor was fired
from the university for an unknown reason. The Black Caucus was enraged and in a
press release stated, “The elimination of Mr. Johnson is an obvious plot to destroy
Black Studies at this school” (Hayes, Black Caucus, 1971, p.1). Black Studies was
not destroyed but controversy continued to afflict the program. In the early 1980s,
Afro-American Studies Committee members expressed a variety of concerns
including untrained faculty teaching Afro-American Studies courses and the Art
Department dropping Afro-American Studies courses without consulting anyone
(Harris, 1980). Moreover, the former Afro-American Studies Chair made a public
charge of institutional in the campus newspaper, contending:
Out of approximately 249 faculty members we have 14 tenured track black
faculty on this campus. This record is worse than the University of
Mississippi. Here we stand in the midst of a largely black populated service
area and eyes are closed to the fact that there is a legal and moral obligation
to hire more black faculty and staff (Kelly, 1980).

The writer of the article states that Dr. Wilson “found it necessary to resign because
of lack of sensitivity, indifference, and dishonesty on the part of the administration”
(Kelly, 1980). The ongoing conflict over Afro-American Studies reflected African
American students’ social reality and lived experience at the time – a reality and
experience in which they consistently felt that the university was dismissive of
African Americans.
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African Americans’ complaints about the university’s commitment to
affirmative action were also echoed by Chican@s on campus. In the wake of
Proposition 13, Chicano Studies programs throughout the state became deeply
concerned about potential cutbacks emanating from Proposition 13. In letters to a
California senator and the chancellor of the state university system, Chicano Studies
program directors expressed concern regarding “underrepressentation of Chicano
students; lack of aggressive affirmative action efforts in hiring, retention, tenure, and
the promotion of our faculty; allocation of tenure track positions to Chicano Studies
Departments” (Hernandez, 1979, p.1; Sifuentes, 1979). Furthermore, on the BU
campus, members of MEChA had to compel the university to hire more professional
and student recruiters to help boost the university’s Chican@ and Mexican American
enrollment.
African American, Chican@, and Mexican American student mobilization at
Bay University is a significant part of the institution’s history. It is an unfortunate,
but perhaps all too predictable, irony that Black and Latin@ students had to engage
in struggle and conflict with the university to obtain educational resources and a
culturally and racially affirming education, given that the institution was purportedly
designed to meet the needs of minority students, and in particular, African
Americans. These struggles and conflicts mirror those which have historically
occurred between social institutions and people of color, as even those social
institutions within communities of color have often been controlled by whites
(Feagin, 2001). In turn, whites structure institutions in the way they see fit,
contending that they know what is “best” for people of color. These processes most
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certainly occurred at BU in its early days, as the predominantly white administrators
attempted to fend of students of color and refuse to create ethnic studies departments,
departments which should have been built into the original establishment of the
university, had the best interests of Black, Chican@, and Mexican American students
been at heart. Furthermore, the struggles over ethnic studies at BU were all to
typical of the time period, as universities, under pressure, instituted ethnic studies
programs, but then failed to support them and feigned ignorance when the programs
struggled.
It is interesting to note that according to archival documents, although both
African American and Latin@ students actively mobilized at BU in the sixties and
early seventies, the latter less frequently due to their smaller population, activism
was generally not biracial in nature. That is, although Blacks and Latin@s may have
expressed support for one another, this support did not entail full scale coalition
building. The lack of coalition building may be attributed to the smaller number of
Latin@ students, as well as the tendency for minority groups to focus on their own
racial interests when engaged in incipient organization/mobilization. That is,
because the university was relatively new, and students were in turn, novice campus
organizers, it might have been more natural and logical for students to focus on the
particular concerns of their communities.
Leftist Activism
During the late 1960s Bay University students also expressed their support
and solidarity with student protestors at larger, well known and established
universities, in particular UC Berkeley. In 1969, Governor Ronald Reagan, making
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good on his campaign promises to crackdown on leftist student activists, ordered law
enforcement to destroy and cordon off the People’s Park in Berkeley. The People’s
Park was a piece of land, owned by UC Berkeley, which after remaining
undeveloped, was taken over by local residents, merchants, and students and turned
into a community park. Viewing the park as representative of students’ disdain for
authority, and the university’s failure to crack down on students, Reagan sought to
make an example of the People’s Park creators. Law enforcement, students, and
community members violently clashed over the People’s Park and resulted in the
death of a UC Berkeley student (Mitchell, 1995).
In response to the chaos permeating Berkeley, BU students protested and
demanded that the president publicly condemn Reagan’s action and implement a two
day convocation. These protests were a reflection of students’ sense of solidarity
with other student activists throughout the state. However, BU unfortunately, but
perhaps predictably, manifested students’ vision of an oppressive university when
administrators refused to schedule a two day convocation. After the university’s
rejection of the students’ demands, no further activism was undertaken on the part of
the students, which I posit is a consequence of the smaller student population of BU,
who were novice organizers, when compared to their counterparts at Berkeley, who
had power in numbers, as well as more political experience. However, although BU
students’ activism did not proceed any further in this realm, it is telling to note that
the politics of a nationally known university functioned to mobilize the students of a
small, new, and virtually unknown university.

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Racial Conflict in the Late 1970s and 1980s
Throughout the late 1970s and 1980s, racialized activism at the university
dipped but race remained an important component of campus dynamics. Race’s
importance to the university was clearly exemplified through the university’s
ongoing disagreements with the NAACP and with students who were organized
affirmative action activists. In the late 1970s and early 1980s the university
experienced a series of conflicts with the NAACP revolving around the university’s
commitment to African Americans’ educational needs and interests. These conflicts
occurred in spite of the university’s contention that
Affirmative action is a major educational priority of Bay University. The
results of a strong Affirmative Action Program, pursued over the past years,
help to make this College a better educational institution, not only in terms of
social policy but more significantly in terms of the quality of education
(Girth, 1976).

Finding the president’s expressed commitment to affirmative action and
diversity disingenuous, in 1979, the president of the local NAACP chapter sent a
letter to the president of the university outlining the following concerns:
Concern #1: The present ethnic make-up of the school is frankly, of great
concern to us. It would appear that out of your two hundred fifty (250)
faculty members, of which thirteen (13) are black, there appears to have been
a systematic exclusion of black professors from some areas within your
system. With a student body of approximately thirty-five percent (35%)
black, some ratio within the faculty should reflect this student body count and
make-up.

Concern #2: Implementation of the Ethnic Studies Program
We believe that the ethnics study program would enrich the lives of all
students regardless of race, creed, or color.

Concern #3: Communication with organization and members of the
community in the recruitment of students, programs and community events
on campus (Sneed, 1979, p.1-2).
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In response to the concerns voiced by the NAACP, the president of the university
wrote,
Within the limits of the resources available to us – and they are limited at this
point – we are continuing to make a significant effort to deal with an increase
in the composition of the faculty. We think that the multicultural nature of
our society makes the more full scale implementation of cross-cultural
programs a matter of significant priority to the university. I think you know
that we have stepped up very, very substantially our news effort. We have
been getting our news released to virtually all forms of media in the
community (Gerth, 1979, p.1).

In conclusion, the president wrote in his letter “I think the point that really needs to
be made is that our institutional purposes and values are consonant with those which
you have in NAACP” (Gerth, 1979, p.2) This exchange between the NAACP and
the university president reflected the difficulties the university had in meeting the
needs of its African American students. That is, simply because the university was
established in part to provide higher education opportunities to Black students did
not translate into a university which “naturally” knew of and responded to Black
concerns. Instead, the university had to constantly “prove” itself to the Black
community, and the racial progress which was made was a result of constant
“pushing and pulling” and compromising between the university and organizations
such as the NAACP.
While Bay University appeared to make great strides in achieving racial
diversity - in 1976, the university boasted the highest percentage of minority
employees among the Cal States at nearly 30% - the constant conflict between the
university and the NAACP continued into the 1980s. In 1980, a breaking point was
reached when the NAACP filed a class action racism suit against BU (Woods, 1980,
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p.1). No longer was the NAACP willing to wait and hear the university president’s
explanation for racial inequalities on campus. At this point, the NAACP was
particularly concerned with the discrepancy between the racial demographics of the
student population and that of the faculty. A representative for the NAACP alleged,
“’Here is a student body that is approximately 40% Black and a faculty of five
percent Black. In addition, the NAACP has sent qualified applicant to the campus to
apply, whose qualifications exceeded those that were subsequently hired.’”
Unfortunately, it is unclear from archival documents, how and when this particular
lawsuit was resolved. Yet it is evident that disagreements with the NAACP
continued relatively unabated during this time period.
The university’s troubles with the NAACP did not end with the 1980 lawsuit.
In 1982 NAACP filed a complaint against the manager of the BU Bookstore,
alleging that he hired white male employees at higher pay than equally qualified
black female employees (Black Workers Caucus, Bay University S.D.S., 1980). The
NAACP asserted that BU was guilty of
non-compliance Affirmative Action practices in relation to recruitment,
hiring and retention of Black faculty; alledged racism on the part of faculty
that is directed toward Black students; the problem of promotion for Black
faculty who have a combined total of over 25 years of service to the
University; fair employment practices in the BU bookstore; the unusual large
number of Black students that are on academic probation.

In response, the president expressed an “established commitment to the NAACP”
and commitment to affirmative action, rhetoric which received a dubious reaction
from many African Americans on campus and in the community.
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In addition to the university’s troubles with the local NAACP during the
early 1980s, was students of color ongoing dissatisfaction with the university’s
approach to the enforcement of affirmative action and treatment of ethnic studies
programs. Debates raged about the amount and nature of services the university
should provide for its large Black and Mexican American / Chican@ student
population. In particular, an ongoing exchange occurred between the Student
Affirmative Action Advisory Council and the president of the university regarding
the number of recruiters available to bring in minority students and the racial/ethnic
backgrounds of these recruiters. In a letter to the president, Chican@ students
asserted,
Perhaps you are not aware or sensitive enough to perceive that there is a kind
of xenophobia when an Anglo or a Black goes into a Spanish-speaking group
for the purpose of recruiting. I have seen and experienced some of this when
a non-Black goes to a meeting of Blacks as a recruiter. For this reason, then
if recruiting among the Hispanic community is going to be more effective,
there is a need for a Chicano or Chicana to be available to do this…for EOP
(Garcia, 1982, p.1).

The president responded by lamenting the fact that “one well-meaning group of
members of the University community” continues to attack “another well-meaning
and hard-working group of members of the University community.” As for the issue
of race-matching with counselors, he stated “”Is there a real issue that services to
particular students, to be credible, must be delivered by the same ethnic group; I
think not, for generally students react negatively to that kind of forced behavior”
(Gerth, 1982, p.1-2) The president’s comments seem to indicate that while the
university showed patience dealing with the NAACP and could not afford to be
reactionary, it took a much more aggressive stance with its students, bypassing
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niceties and refusing to bow to students’ demands, who were viewed as misled
ideologues.
Lower-scale disagreements and issues also arose between the University and
various Asian American and Pacific Islander populations. For example, the
university admitted that it needed to do more to service the Korean American
population and that more attention needed to be paid to the bilingual needs of the
community in particular. Moreover, in 1982, tensions arose between the
administration and the Samoan community on campus. Members of the Samoan
Affairs Task Force were agitated by the administration’s failure to meet with the task
force. In a letter to the president of the university, the vice president of the Samoan
Affairs Task Force stated that an appointment had been made through the president’s
office and that Samoan Affairs Task Force members arrived “at the designated time
on your site.” However, an administrative worker told the task force that the
president would be unable to meet. The Samoan Affairs Task Force Vice President
states,
I would venture to say that there must have been a ‘good’ reason for his [the
president’s] non-appearance but I would greatly appreciate an explanation as
it would help to foster a close and meaningful relationship between the
Samoan American community and Cal-Sate Dominguez for the promotion of
our Samoan Youth in the realm of education (Viena Pouesi, 1982, p.1).

The administration responded in a letter by stating that a meeting time had never
been agreed upon. In this letter the administration expressed resistance, albeit in
probably what they believed to be in a tactful manner, to the establishment of a
Samoan Educational Center on campus. The president of the university wrote,
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Your letter mentioned the possibility of building a Samoan Educational
Center on campus. I would like to think that the foundation for Samoan
participation at this University is already being constructed. The number of
degree seeking Samoan students has doubled in the past three years through a
variety of outreach efforts including the Educational Opportunity Program,
the employment of Samoan outreach counselors in the Student Affirmative
Action Program, and the sponsorship of a variety of activities by the BU
Polynesian Club (Gerth, 1982, p.1).

The conflict between the Samoan students and the BU administration is typical of
racial politics on college campuses, in that it was rife with allegations and counter
allegations, which each side contending that the other did not understand the issues
at hand. The institutional response, for instance, was in keeping with a characteristic
common to many social institutions – the unwillingness to change or believe that
everything which can be done, is being done, to solve a particular problem, even
when constituents say otherwise. It is also quite likely that BU’s administration did
not feel it had to pay as much attention to the Samoan community, as to African
American students, given their small population.
The 1990s: Multiculturalism Takes Hold
The 1990s were a relatively quieter time at Bay University, as the university
seemed to come to terms with its role as a minority-majority institution. In fact,
during this period the university actively embraced multiculturalism. The university
increasingly emphasized its “multi-ethnic, multi-national, and multi-cultural”
character “working with a community of similar characteristics.” Several notable
African Americans and Latin@ visited the campus, including poet Jorge Luis
Borges, UFW co-founder Dolores Huerta, Senator Diane Watson, and entertainer
and activist Dick Gregory. During this time period, the university continued to earn a
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reputation for enrolling a large minority population. In 1991 the “National Center
for Postsecondary Education select[ed] BU as positive role model for minority
access to achievement in U.S. universities,” and in 1997 U.S. News and World
Report gives BU the top ranking for “diversity” among universities in the West
(university website, accessed May 2007) . Further engaging with a multicultural
racial project, Multicultural Student Affairs was created in 1994 to provide support
and programming for BU’s diverse student population.
It is interesting to note that just two years before affirmative action (for
public institutions) was dismantled, BU was in the process of establishing its form of
race based student services. Given the political climate at the time, one might
wonder why BU’s creation of a Multicultural Student Affairs’ office was not
challenged by neo-conservatives within the local region. The reason MSA’s
establishment was not challenged is likely due to two factors. First, neo-
conservatives were gearing up for a much bigger target – the University of California
system. Destroying affirmative action within the UC system was viewed as a
potentially major victory against the role of race in public policy. As a result,
meddling in the affairs of a small university with no national reputation was not part
of the larger neo-conservative agenda at the time. Second, even if MSA had
attracted attention, neo-conservatives rhetoric and action would have likely been
mollified by the liberal multicultural nature of the center. That is, although the
activities of MSA would have still offended neo-conservative sensibilities, the
offense would have been greater had the center adopted left-liberal multiculturalism
or a cultural nationalist ideology.
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History of Multicultural Student Affairs
As I have shown through my discussion of race based student services at
Western University and California University, ascertaining these services’ history is
often somewhat difficult. That is, it is not unusual to find that the university archives
have little information on RBSS and that directors and staff of RBSS relay varying
accounts of their history. Researching the history of the Multicultural Student
Affairs, I encountered similar difficulties. More specifically, the university archives
had no information on MSA’s establishment and history; thus, I obtained a historical
account of MSA from its website and director. However, the official historical
account on the university’s website slightly differed from that described by a high
ranking MSA administrator in an interview. The primary distinction between the
two narratives pertains to the student groups given credit for pushing the university
to establish MSA – while the website credits a non-racially identified group of
students, the administrator credits Latin@ students. In the following discussion I
argue that the slightly different historical accounts of MSA’s creation quite possibly
reflects the institution’s desire to promote multicultural racial formations in contrast
to attending to the specific interests and concerns of a particular racial group on
campus.
On the Bay University website, it is stated that MSA was created in 1994 at
the request of a coalition of students, staff, and faculty. Yet in an interview with
Edward, an MSA administrator, he stated that “initially I believe the Latino students,
primarily from the group MEChA, had staged protest and demanded that a Latino
center be developed.” After the Latino student protest, “the university chose to be
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more comprehensive and inclusive of all the various groups that might have similar
issues and so they chose to develop this one Multicultural Student Affairs.” The
discrepancies between the two historical accounts might be viewed by some as
meaningless, but I contend that they are significant. The website’s account reflects a
neutralization of history – one which allows all racial groups to be involved and all
racial groups to be winners. Furthermore, it portrays the university as immediately
responsive to the desires of students. In contrast, Edward’s historical narrative
emphasizes the role of one particular racial group in the establishment of MSA, that
of Latin@s. This story thus speaks to racial politics and lobbying in which different
racial groups may have different interests, forms of mobilization, and desires.
Moreover, Edward’s statement that the university chose to create a Multicultural
Student Affairs in response to the Latin@ students demands indicates a much more
complicated process than that conveyed by the history presented on the website.
More specifically, it suggests that the establishment of MSA was not simply about
students expressing a desire and the administration fulfilling that desire, but entailed
some level of negotiation and conflict, as the administration ultimately instituted
multicultural services, which differed from the Latin@ students’ request for a Latino
center.
Such a process suggests that the university engaged in absorption. According
to Omi and Winant (1994) absorption involves the state and/or institutions yielding
to and incorporating select demands of an incipient social movement. These
demands are met in order to pacify activists while still maintaining the fundamental
power structure of the state or institution at hand. With the establishment of MSA
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instead of a Latino student center, BU, as an institution of higher education, likely
sought to institute a student affairs office which it was most comfortable with – one
which did not appear to favor one group over another and did not explicitly engage
with issues of race. Particularly in the nineties, the prospect of a Latino center might
have unpleasantly reminded administrators of the cultural nationalist activism of the
sixties and seventies or of the more current chaos at Western University surrounding
the establishment of an autonomous Chicano Studies department. The website
narrative may also reflect the university’s desire to control historical story telling
about the university and portray the university in a relatively positive light.
It is important to recognize here the significance of Latin@ students’
activism in the creation of MSA. Their leadership role is notable because it
challenges the historical tradition of racial politics on and off of university campuses,
in which African Americans have been at the helm. Instead, Latin@ students’
involvement in the creation of MSA reflects a long tradition of social justice oriented
activism within the Latin@ community, as well as Latin@s growing political power
in contemporary times.
In spite of Latin@ students’ involvement in spearheading the creation of
MSA, soon after its establishment, Edward noted that students who assumed
leadership were primarily African American. This caused some conflict with
Latin@ students, who viewed the African American students as unfairly dominating
the MSA, as well as campus politics at large. This conflict between Latin@ and
African American students was likely exacerbated by the absence of professional
staff in the late 1990s through 2001. According to the director of MSA, during this
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time period, the university was unable to find a director, and hence, students
primarily ran MSA. When a new director was found, the competition for power
between Black and Latin@ students seemed to dissipate, although there still seems to
presently be some underlying tension between the two groups when it comes to
campus politics. However, this tension does not to seem to have an overwhelmingly
negative effect on MSA, as all of the student program coordinators interviewed
emphasized that they got along well and collaborated on programs and activities.
It is thus clear that students, both Latin@ and African American, have from
its inception, played a large role in MSA. This role has entailed decisions and
determinations regarding the funding of the center. In particular, when MSA was
created, students spearheaded a referendum on campus which resulted in MSA
receiving $10 per enrolled student. The referendum funding continues to this day
and makes up 99% of MSA’s budget and is augmented by a small amount of funding
from the state. Consequently, MSA’s budget is upwards of $100,000, which in the
director’s estimate, is unusual for a California State University.
Students’ role as “financial backers” of MSA can be interpreted in several
ways. While the monies from the student referendum can be understood as evidence
of student’s power and initiative in maintaining the MSA, it also makes the MSA
more vulnerable. That is, the referendum could be reversed in any given year, and
the MSA would then be seriously threatened and perhaps cease to exist because it is
not fiscally institutionalized. This somewhat parallels the histories of RBSS at other
institutions where RBSS have been left to languish, lacking the financial resources
available to other student services. As a result, funding by student referendum may
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be viewed as the failure of the institution to take responsibility for MSA; at other
institutions, such as WU and CU, funding for RBSS is built into the student affairs
budget. MSA’s financially unpredictable state once again reflects minority students’
and RBSS’ struggles to obtain and secure resources from the larger institution.
MSA’s short history has included many of the problems afflicting RBSS
across institutions – in fighting between racial minority groups and financial
instability. Yet at the same time, MSA has ideologically distinguished itself from
RBSS created during the late sixties and early seventies, by taking a liberal and
cultural pluralist approach to confronting issues of race, both on and off campus.
Thus, I now turn to an examination of MSA’s ideological and material significance
in the present.
Multicultural Student Affairs Today
Organizational Structure and Programming

Multicultural Student Affairs is a department within BU’s Division of
Student Affairs, along with other departments such as the Department of Student
Life, University Housing, and International Student Services. According to its
website (accessed May, 2007), the Division has “the primary responsibility for
providing services and programs which allow students to be admitted, acclimated,
supported, and culturally enhanced
prior to graduation.” Multicultural Student Affairs is designed to assist the Division
in meeting its last goal of cultural enhancement and is headed by a professional
executive director. MSA is also staffed by four pseudo-professional students who
make up the Multicultural Student Affairs Programming Board. These four positions
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are the African American Student Program Coordinator, Asian and Pacific Islander
Student Coordinator, Chicano/Latino Student Program Coordinator, and the Middle
Eastern Student Program Coordinator. The Middle Eastern Student Program
Coordinator’s position was created in the wake of the terrorist attacks of September
11, 2001, as the administration of MSA decided that programming was needed to
address the experiences of Middle Eastern students on campus, as well as to educate
other students about the Middle Eastern experience. Each coordinator recruits a
programming committee of students to assist them in program formulation and
implementation which focuses on a specific racial / ethnic group. Each
programming coordinator and committee has the same budget. Finally, MSA also
employs three other student staff who occupy the positions of contracts and
procurement coordinator, scheduling coordinator, and graphic artist. The MSA
website touts these positions as an opportunity for students to enhance their
leadership skills.
While the employment of student program coordinators endows students with
a greater sense of control and investment in MSA, it can also be potentially
problematic due to students’ temporal status. The reality is that students are only at
BU for four years, and most student program coordinators will only occupy their
positions for one or two years. Therefore, the student staff must constantly be
replenished, disrupting the continuity and stability of programming. Edward, a high
ranking MSA administrator, acknowledged, based on his previous professional
experiences at another university, that there were benefits to employing a
professional staff: “each of those centers were run by professional staff, and so that
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they spread out the overall budget in a way that allowed these professional staff to
really focus in and really get at the heart of very specific issues.” These are benefits
to which student coordinators are not privy and the problematic nature of employing
a student staff was evident during my data collection at BU. When I first began
visiting MSA and scheduling and conducting interviews, I discovered that the
position of African American Student Program Coordinator had been vacant for a
semester because the student hired for the position had to resign. In a MSA staff
meeting, the open position was clearly a topic of concern for MSA’s administrators
and staff, as indicated through the following conversation:
Edward: So, I’m thinking that we should just hold off on hiring somebody
for the AfAm position because we’re half way through the school year, and
that means that the person we hire is just going to be thrown into a lot of
things, programming, which they are not trained for. But on the other hand I
do really like Ron [who we interviewed for the position].

Gwen: I know what you mean. I do really, really like Ron, but he’s also a
freshman so I don’t know how’s it going to be him coming in in the middle
of the year. If he does, we’re all going to really have to pitch in and help him
out, which is cool, we would never not help anyone out, but it is going to be a
lot more work.

Eventually Edward and the staff did decide on hiring Ron midway through the year,
and he seemed to adjust well with the assistance of the other student program
coordinators. However, the discussion recounted above illustrates the potential
problems which may crop up with relying on students to spearhead and organize the
bulk of programming for MSA.
Across the board, MSA’s organizational set-up, in which all racial and ethnic
student services operate under one center, is viewed positively by students and staff.
While some students and staff, including the director, believe that individual race
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based student service units, like an Office for Black Student Affairs, can be
beneficial with their intensive focus on one racial group, they also believe that a
centralized Multicultural Student Affairs can serve to bring the campus together. As
MSA administrator Edward stated,
I’ve seen these two models operate both good and bad in other institutions. A
Black History Month there that’s run by a Black center, an African American
center, it was not uncommon to have an event everyday of the week in
February, and in really, really detailed, thoroughly designed programs for
each of those days. Whereas here, you know, it’s one student with maybe a
subcommittee of students and myself trying to work with other entities on
campus to put on events. Now, because of that dynamic, we don’t always get
to hit on every social issue that may be out there, whereas, an African-
American coordinator in tuned more because that’s their day-to-day job. It
becomes, the situation for us, almost a juggling act of, you know, well okay,
we did an African American event, you know, last week, let’s see what we
can do with the Latino community. So that’s a positive in regards to those
distinct centers. I think with a Multicultural Student Affairs, though, the
campus is able to rally around more this notion of kind of cross-cultural
celebration. They don’t see the exact distinct separations that may happen at a
structure model like Cal Poly’s, because I was there when it first started, and
we got things like ‘where’s the White’ center? Or um, why do we have to
separate everybody up like that? It became this constant having to defend the
philosophy around that. And I can see, honestly, where students might
mistakenly see, that oh, we’re trying to self-segregate, and that really wasn’t
the case. With one center you’re able to do more cross-cultural collaboration
with the groups because the focus becomes trying to bring people together,
whereas at Cal Poly it was a lot of ‘we need to do work within our respective
communities and make that relevant to other groups as well.’ So, you know,
there’s a lot of give and take there. I think in an ideal setting, if budget
permitting, it would be nice to have a marriage of the two models.

Edward’s comments speak to both the benefits and drawbacks of a Multicultural
Student Affairs office versus individual race specific units, benefits and drawbacks
which were also spoken of by the student staff. However, students did seem to favor
the agglomeration of race based student services into one Multicultural Student
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Affairs, as indicated by Yasmin, the Middle Eastern Student Program Coordinator,
and Ron, the African American Student Program Coordinator’s, comments:
• I wouldn’t want that personally because I’ve learned so much from
co-workers and vice versa and we help each other out with ideas.
They may not be Middle Eastern but give the best ideas ever and I’ll
use it. I’ll do the same thing. Two minds are better than one and you
do have your sub-committee, people who work under you in your
committee but if you look at it we’re all a part of our sub-committee.
We help each other out and give each other ideas. It’s not like we’re
trying to stab each other in the back and try to make my events the
best. We want everyone’s events to be a hit (Yasmin).

• I don’t think that separating the programs would be a good idea
because it might actually help to reinforce some stereotypes. I think
it’s good the way we have it right now because the different racial
groups get to learn about one another (Ron).

As reflected by Yasmin and Ron’s statements, a great value was placed on interracial
contact and interactions facilitated by the Multicultural Student Affairs. This value
reflected the program’s liberal multiculturalist ideology, and in particular, its
emphasis on personalized interracial interactions as a means to engage in cultural
exchange and education.
Because they work underneath one Multicultural Student Affairs in one main
office, Student Program Coordinators have greater opportunities to work together
than if they worked under the auspices of separate student service units. The director
encourages the Student Program Coordinators to collaborate on projects, and the
Coordinators enthusiastically respond to such encouragement by helping one another
with their different projects. In a one-on-one interview, Yasmin, the Middle Eastern
Student Program Coordinator spoke of such collaboration:
It’s African Heritage Month and like I said there’s a large population of
African American Muslims, so we’re [the African American Student
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Program Coordinator and I are] going to get together and do an event
together. So we always get along and do events together. Even if it has
nothing to do with us we’ll get with them and help each other and promote
each others events. It’s not like a competition or anything.

Yasmin went on to state that she believed that working together was an important
characteristic of the center and reflected a need for students of color to coalesce:
Yes, we do support them. That’s the high pitch of our center I guess. We are
minority and have to stick together regardless of what race or religion you
are, where you come from. We’re all in the same boat living in the U.S.
going to school here and if we don’t help each other out whose going to help
one another out? Yes there is, you do see that.

Mike, the Latino/a Student Program Coordinator further echoed Yasmin’s statements
by asserting,
We all help each other out. It’s very…I mean everyone gets along and is
friends, like I know I will be helping Gwen (Asian Pacific American Student
Program Coordinator) with her program next week, not because I have to, but
because we’re friends, and she helps me, so it’s all good.

Hence, although the African American, Middle Eastern, Latin@, and Asian Pacific
American student bodies are assigned their own program coordinators who design
events addressing the interests and / or concerns of their respective racial
communities, the umbrella organizational structure of MSA facilitates a great deal of
collaboration across the different racial groups and programming boards.
MSA’s programming clearly falls in line with conventional liberal
multicultural programming. Programming tends to focus on cultural issues and most
frequently avoids explicit discussions of racism. Moreover, MSA does not confront
issues of institutional racism on campus, and does not concern itself with issues such
as retention rates among African American students or inadequate financial aid. In
addition to heritage months, MSA’s activities include a Cross Cultural Retreat, 2-day
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multicultural festival, dramatic presentations, lectures, concerts, art exhibits, movies,
symposia, poetry performances, and dialogue groups. MSA also assists
racial/ethnic/cultural organizations and departments on campus with programming,
including racial heritage months (i.e., Black History Month) and conferences.
Specific examples include a screening of Mojado, a documentary on immigration, a
lecture by Donna Lamb, an activist for reparations, and a Kwanzaa Celebration
Dinner. MSA’s largest event is the multicultural festival, which entails dance
performances by various cultural and ethnic organizations, as well as vendors who
sell cultural foods. This festival clearly reflects the food, dress, and dance approach
of liberal multiculturalism. That is, the festival does not include any historical
discussions of race or ethnicity. For instance, soul food is sold and bought, but no
one from MSA discusses the historical origins of soul food and its connection to
racism, namely, that as a result of racism and associated poverty, African Americans
were historically forced to use the undesirable scraps of animals. Instead, hamhocks,
chitterlings, and greens are simply served and consumed as cultural cuisine without
any historical context.
Since MSA’s primary emphasis is on cultural programming and events, other
possible endeavors are not undertaken. More specifically, MSA does not do any
programming which might change or alter students of color experiences with
institutional racism or racialized experiences. For example, many of Bay
University’s female students are single working mothers who might benefit from
forums or programming which directs them to affordable childcare. Moreover, given
that many, if not most, of BU students come from academically underprepared
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backgrounds and working class nature, it would be useful if MSA provided
workshops on how to pursue a professional career and survive and thrive in a
professional world, particularly as a person of color. Yet the liberal multicultural
racial project simply does not provide space for such activities, which is problematic
given that students’ lives are certainly circumscribed by racialization and students
may very well not have been educated about the historical and structural salience of
racism via primary and secondary schooling.
Students Served
Unlike RBSS at CU, BU’s MSA does not aim to “serve” any one particular
student population. Instead, in keeping with the tenets of liberal multiculturalism,
which contend that all cultures should be recognized equally, MSA aims to provide
cultural programs that all students are encouraged to attend. This is in contrast to
programming such as that which CU’s CAPASS creates and implements and which
is largely designed for an Asian Pacific American audience. For example, CAPASS’
mentorship program matches Asian Pacific American undergraduate students with
APA professionals. While MSA possesses programming boards distinguished by
race, these boards do not seek a particular racial audience, instead constructing
programs which focus on a certain racial group. The screening of Mojado, for
instance, focuses on the immigration experience from the perspective of Mexican
migrants, but the screening is marketed to all students.
However, simply because all MSA programming is marketed to all students
does not naturally mean that events are attended by an equal or even relatively equal
number of students of different races. Despite the best efforts of MSA staff to obtain
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diverse audiences, Black students tend to be most interested in “Black” events,
“Latin@” students in Latin@ events, Asian Pacific American students in “Asian
Pacific American” events, and Middle Eastern students in “Middle Eastern” events.
According to MSA’s student program coordinators, students tend not to be drawn to
events which focus on a racial group of which they are not a member because they
“don’t understand the other group,” “have stereotypes about other races,” or “just
don’t care about racial groups other than their own.”
The obstacles which prevent students from attending programming which
focuses on another racial group seem to be magnified when it comes to Middle
Eastern programming. According to Yasmin, the Middle Eastern student program
coordinator,
Especially being a Middle Eastern program, it’s so hard to promote your
events. People have this total wrong impression about Middle East right now
and trying to remove that concept from people’s heads is so hard because
especially after the media imbeds in your head that this is the way you’re
supposed to look at it. It’s not like that.

Yasmin went on to describe students’ reactions to an event which included an
African American speaker who had converted to Islam:
I was passing out flyers and people would just say NO-sorry! Straight to
your face. We’re passing out flyers to people and they’re just like sorry. I’m
like expand your horizons and learn something new. Get a better idea about
the Middle East, Islam and take away your misconceptions that you do have
about the Middle East.

With the wounds of 9/11 still fresh, many non-Middle Eastern students balk at
attending any events which focus on Middle Eastern and/or Islamic peoples. Yasmin
and the Middle Eastern Student Programming Board’s difficulties securing a more
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diverse audience for their events thus illustrates that racism may play the strongest
role in keeping students from learning about other races.
The problematic nature of attempting to provide cultural programming to all
students is reflective of some of the weaknesses of a liberal multicultural racial
project. The liberal multicultural racial project attempts to provide equal recognition
to all racial groups and cultures and seeks to portray each group and culture in a
relatively positive light. Yet such efforts tend to minimize or ignore issues of racism
and inequitable power relations which shape different racial groups’ experiences.
For example, in treating Middle Eastern programming just like any other
programming – designing it and marketing it in the same manner – MSA neglected
to take into account the current socio-political environment, which is particularly
cynical and hostile toward persons of Middle Eastern descent. If this environment
and the feelings which it has produced among the American populace had been paid
more attention, MSA would have recognized the need for more sensitive and
intensive marketing of programming. Instead of simply organizing a cultural activity
and passing out fliers, MSA could have organized a teach-in on racism against
people of Middle Eastern descent in the post-9/11 era. Doing so would have allowed
MSA to prepare or “prime” the student population for further Middle Eastern
programming by tapping into some of the obstacles – racism and ignorance – which
prevents students from attending such programming in the first place.
Beyond the problem of securing a diverse student audience for programming,
MSA experiences the larger problem of simply getting students to attend
programming at all. The culprit at work here is BU’s demographics. BU’s
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population overwhelmingly consists of working class and commuter students who
spend the majority of their time off campus. In interview after interview, students
stated that their work and personal responsibilities prevented them from participating
in campus activities, in which they might otherwise be interested. Cindy, for
example, indicated that she was interested in MSA programming, but that her job
and childcare demands were obstacles to participation:
The thing that’s holding me back now is I work at night. So that means 11
p.m. to 7:30 a.m., then I’m in school all day and then when I leave here I
have my son. So I haven’t been able to participate with anything here. I
think with a lot of the students the problem is they’re working.

Moira made similar statements, saying she was interested in MSA programming and
thought it was needed on campus, but she was “always busy doing all other stuff
with working and school” and therefore hadn’t “really been exposed to what they
[MSA] do.” Because Cindy and Moira’s experiences are typical of BU students, it
is difficult for MSA, as well as other student service and student life programming,
to ensure widespread and consistent student participation in their programming.
Consequently, when students do take part in MSA programming and services, there
is a tendency to be selective and attend those events which focus on their own racial
group.
An examination of MSA’s difficulties providing services and programming
to students of all racial groups, reflects the failure of the institution, in spite of the
best intentions and efforts, to institutionalize a racial project of multiculturalism.
While a multicultural ethos is strong among the students involved in leadership
positions within MSA, factors such as racial insularity, an unwillingness to learn
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about other racial groups, and a working class lifestyle among the student masses
mitigates the strength of multiculturalism on campus. Despite MSA’s presence on
campus, students largely socialize within their own racial / ethnic groups and are
most knowledgeable about their own group.
Philosophy
Multicultural Student Affairs’ philosophy, while admirable, continues to
reflect disconnections and contradictions within the university regarding issues of
race. Such problems are evident in MSA’s official stated philosophy, which to a
noticeable degree is more radical or leftist than MSA’s actual programming. On its
website (accessed May, 2007) and in official documents, the MSA’s philosophy and
goals include a dedication “to enhancing the multicultural consciousness and
empowerment of BU students through student activities that enrich campus life.”
Furthermore, its website states “MSA strives to address and redress the legacies of
exclusion and separation on campus and in the nation, while contributing to the
advancement of democratic inclusion, social justice and meaningful equality.”
While MSA’s name and activities invoke the politics of liberal
multiculturalism, its stated philosophy in part seems to be influenced by the more
radical cultural nationalist movements of the sixties and early seventies. Underneath
the auspices of a cultural pluralism paradigm, liberal multiculturalists assert that
students of different racial and ethnic groups have the right to maintain their own
sense of identity and heritage, but that the ultimate goal should be equality amongst
the races and embracing of all cultures (Bennett, 2001; Kailin, 2002). Consequently,
because MSA operates under cultural pluralism and liberal multiculturalism, its
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programming often lends itself to a “food, dance, and dress” approach. Yet this
“softer and kinder” approach to race, and the programming it entails, is noticeably
different from MSA’s stated philosophy, which entails more direct and progressive
racialized language. More specifically, linguistic phrases such as, “MSA strives to
address and redress the legacies of exclusion and separation on campus and in the
nation,” speaks to an anti-racist struggle in several ways which is lacking from
typical multiculturalism. First, the official philosophy recognizes that conditions of
inequality do not exist in a vacuum but are the result of history – “legacies.” This is
a significant statement given that liberal multiculturalism tends to be a-historical and
a-structural, and the dominant discourse on race in the U.S. views racism as a
problem of the past with little bearing on the present. Moreover, this statement is
important because it is not necessarily put into practice through MSA’s
programming. For example, programming on immigration tends to view
immigration solely in the present, as an issue relevant to the contemporary U.S.
Absent from the discussion is an analysis of the ways in which colonialism,
imperialism, and the spread of capitalism have impelled the continuing flow of
immigration.
Second, the official philosophy’s statement that exclusion and separation
should be addressed and redressed speaks to the sentiment that inequality which is
constituent of racism must be repaired. This statement again, is more radical than
cultural pluralism and liberal multiculturalism, which engages in discourses of
recognition (i.e., all racial groups and persons of different racial groups have the
right to be and should be recognized), but not in discourses of redress or reparations.
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Furthermore, MSA’s activities are disconnected from ideologies of redress. For
example, the racial make-up of the faculty clearly does not mirror the demographics
of the student body, yet MSA has not done any programming to encourage or help
students to mobilize and push the university to diversify its faculty ranks.
In addition to the differences which exist between MSA’s official philosophy
and its practices, there are also differences between the official philosophy and that
expressed by administrators. All of these discrepancies and disconnections create a
more complex picture of MSA, in which philosophy and action do not always
support one another.
Similar to the official philosophy stated on MSA’s website, a high ranking
MSA administrator’s viewpoint of MSA’s current and future purpose is more radical
than the activities and programming actually undertaken by MSA. Although the
administrator clearly supports and advocates cultural programming, he also professes
a more complex view of race than traditional multiculturalism in several ways. First,
he recognizes issues of power, particularly when reflecting on racial demographic
changes among the student populace:
It’s interesting because this campus used to be predominantly African
American, and within the last 6 years, it has had an increasingly growing
Latino population to the point that the Latinos now actually serve as a slight
majority over the African Americans, and that has brought on tensions across
the board not only with the students, but even among staff and faculty in
terms of fighting for resources. So I think that’s an issue that’s definitely
important to address as the university moves forward.

The administrator subsequently goes on to state that he tries to promote among his
staff the idea that “it doesn’t do us any good to fight over resources.”
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This administrator’s perspective on race and racial dynamics, particularly
those on campus, is quite different from a cultural pluralist and liberal
multiculturalist view of race, which views racial groups as relatively equal in the
modern era, interacting on a level playing field won by the Civil Rights movement.
Furthermore cultural pluralism and liberal multiculturalism, in spite of recognition of
minority groups, still tends to center whiteness and the white viewpoint. This sort of
view of race clearly runs contrary to the administrator’s view of race, which entails
potential conflicts which may arise between two subordinate communities of color –
in this case African Americans and Latin@s – as they battle for resources in a white
dominated society. Moreover, this particular administrator centers the experiences
of people of color, departing from liberal multiculturalism’s centering of whites.
The campus demographics compel him to recognize the unique, autonomous, yet
also intersecting experiences of African Americans, Latin@s, and Asian Pacific
Americans. To the MSA’s credit, there is some programming which does address
the issue of relations between minority groups. In particular, MSA has created a
“Black-Brown” speakers / discussion series to encourage the African American and
Latin@ communities on campus to better understand one another and create fruitful
coalitions and alliances. However, beyond this series, there are no other programs
which examine interactions between minority groups.
In addition to understanding racial issues beyond the black – white binary
and idealism of liberal multiculturalism, Edward, a key MSA administrator also
expressed a philosophical belief in the importance of intersectionality. Reflecting on
his position, he stated,
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I feel like I’ve been able to expand my understanding, my concept [of
multiculturalism], that it includes things like gender, includes things like
sexual orientation and class, you know, socio-economic status, religion, that
all of these things kind of intersect one another, that it’s not as easy in terms
of compartmentalizing.

This administrator’s assertion that intersectionality is salient to people’s experiences
is a compelling one not typically taken into account by liberal multiculturalism,
which addresses women’s experiences, minorities’ experiences, and gays’
experiences as separate from one another. Yet there is a disconnect between this
administrator’s statements and the actual practices and programming of MSA.
Disconnect between how MSA administrators perceived issues of race and
how MSA tangibly addressed race are intriguing. From interviews, I sensed that
persons such as Edward felt that the campus was not “ready” for more intensive
racialized programming which departed from liberal multiculturalism. That is, the
student body was viewed as somewhat de-politicized, which in turn likely
discouraged MSA from taking a more leftist approach to programming. Moreover,
student program coordinators tended to prefer liberal multicultural oriented
programming, as this type of programming was viewed as being more “fun” and
social. For example, Yasmin, the Middle Eastern Student Program Coordinator,
organized a Hooka café on campus because “That’s the most funnest thing that
people will enjoy.”
MSA: Understandings and Conceptualizations of Racial Identity
As I have illustrated thus far, MSA rarely directly and explicitly addresses
issues of race because it operates underneath a liberal multicultural racial project.
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Yet MSA still does put forth understandings and conceptualizations of racial
identity, which in turn shape their student programming.
As a high ranking administrator within MSA, Edward’s perspective on racial
identity is of great importance, because it retains the potential to influence the
manner in which MSA functions. Edward’s previous educational experiences and
his professional experiences have been instrumental in shaping his views of students’
racial identities. Edward is a second generation Filipino American who has
previously worked for Asian Pacific American student service programs at two other
colleges within the state of California. Hence, he is very much aware of racial
differences and similarities among students, particularly since now he works at a
university which is majority African American and Latin@. In keeping with his
recognition of differences among racial group, the Edward believes that there are
important distinctions between African American students’ conceptualizations and
perceptions of race, and those possessed by Asian American and Latino students.
More specifically, he contends that because of African Americans’ historical
experiences in the U.S., Black students exhibit “a very good grasp at the concept of
race. Whereas Asians, Pacific Islanders or Latinos more rally around, or are more
comfortable around the notion of ethnicity.” Interestingly, Edward’s ideas about
students’ varying racial identity formations seem to have little effect on MSA
programming. MSA programming is still largely cultural in nature, even for African
American students, and tends to not to make intensive forays into issues of race and
racism.
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Student program coordinators tended to largely view issues of race and racial
identity in cultural terms, although there were mentions of discrimination and racism
in interviews. When asked how she racially identifies, Yasmin, the Middle Eastern
Student Program Coordinator stated, “When people ask me what I am, I won’t say
Indian. I will say I’m Muslim because that’s the first thing that pops up in my head.”
She went on to describe the importance of Muslim cultural values and practices:
You don’t argue back. Give respect to all elders regardless if they’re wrong
at that time or if they said something that was totally wrong and you don’t
agree with it. Don’t talk back to them. Come tell us and we’ll handle it
adults to adults. You being the young one do not talk back to them. Yes of
course, religious aspect of it, we pray 5 times a day. That’s for sure impacted
on us. You have to pray. It’s something you do regardless of where you are.
You pray when it’s time to pray. Obviously if you’re in class or something
you pray after class when class is over, but you have to pray. My parents
always say you carry yourself so that no one can turn around and point a
finger at you.

Yasmin proceeded to speak of the difficulties she faced as a child, including,
Being Muslim, we fast in the Holy month and it was really hard growing up
and fasting because no one understood and everyone would eat in front of us
and lunchtime people would be eating, and you’re like 9 or 10 years old.

Similarly, Gwen, the Asian Pacific American Student Program Coordinator
tended to speak of the importance of racial identity in primarily cultural terms, while
also occasionally referencing racial discrimination. Gwen stated that when she was
growing up, “The language and the food were always been important. And of
course, respecting your elders. I mean even today my little brother and sister call me
ate, which means like older sister in Tagalog.” She went on to note that her parents
had experienced some racial discrimination as a result of their interracial marriage,
and that her father could be very “passionate and angry about racism.” Yet overt
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racism did not seem to shape Gwen’s own racial consciousness. Furthermore, Mike,
the Latino/a Student Program Coordinator also spoke of culture and made slight
references to race. He also spoke of his family values, such as respect for elders, as
central to his identity. Yet he did note that Latinos could be subject to stereotypes
like “Latinos are illegal, and we don’t speak English.”
The student program coordinators’ personal views of racial identity seem to
shape MSA activities and trump Edward’s views of racial identity. More
specifically, as previously stated, MSA programming tends toward a cultural view of
race. As students of the post-Civil Rights era, Yasmin, Gwen, and Mike do not seem
to be particularly influenced by the Civil Rights or cultural nationalist movements,
nor do they often speak of overt or institutional racism and its role in shaping
students identities and experiences.
Relationship with Larger University
The relationship between MSA and the larger university and administration is
generally deemed to be a positive one, particularly because BU’s diversity is a
marketing point for the university. When asked whether they believe Bay
University’s administration supports the mission and activities of MSA, student
program coordinators largely responded positively. As Ron, African American
Student Program Coordinator, stated, “I do think the university tries to support us. I
mean this institution is already diverse in itself, so they obviously like to support
minority students and issues.” Similarly, Mike, Latino/a Student Program
Coordinator, stated,
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The administration does back what we do…there are improvements that can
be made, like I know some Latino students want more Latino faculty, but this
is probably something that will come with a little more time and work, and I
think the university would support it.

Bay University’s top administrators do in fact very openly propagate the same liberal
multiculturalism as put forth by MSA. The president of BU, for example, promotes
a concept termed “communidiversity,” which entails building a tangible sense of
community with the surrounding city, which is also racially diverse. Consequently,
MSA fits into this concept and helps the university project an image of diversity.
However, it must once again be acknowledged and recognized that BU and
MSA’s dealings with race are largely superficial, in that a liberal multicultural racial
project underlies the institution’s approach to race. BU, for instance, likes to
publicize its large minority student population, yet in interviews with students,
numerous complaints were made about the university’s failure to provide adequate
financial support for students of color, a lack of diversity among faculty, and a lack
of interaction between the various student populations. Rosa, a Latina student,
stated,
When you go up there to financial aid, there always giving you the run
around, telling you the wrong thing or telling you to come back and talk to so
and so. It’s like, c’mon, we need our tuition paid, we need to live.

Moreover students such as Don, an African American male, and Jamie, an African
American female, lamented BU’s failings to adequately serve its students of color.
Don pointed out that the racial make-up of the BU faculty is inconsistent with the
demographics of the student body, stating,
I don’t think that there are enough African American faculty members. There
are more white faculty members who have been here for years. It would be
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better if there were more Black professors because there is something about
having a teacher who is of the same race – you have a role model and some
people are gonna be able to relate to that person more.

Commenting on the infrastructure of the university, Jamie felt that “the facilities are
inadequate. I’ve been to other universities are they’re always much nicer, and I do
feel this is because it’s mostly a Black and Hispanic campus. I think they would
spend more money on us if we were white students.” Rosa, Don, and Jamie’s
comments shed light on issues of institutional racial inequality which are not
addressed by MSA or the institution at large, and in turn, highlights the downfalls of
liberal multiculturalism, including viewing race in largely individualistic and cultural
terms.
Bay University: Urban Education for the Future
While the term urban education is most often used in relation to secondary
education, and functions as a code for the education of Black and Brown students,
Bay University can be considered urban higher education, a decidedly understudied
institution (Lipman, 2003; Tierney and Colyar, 2006). Furthermore, Bay University
is a compelling institution of higher education to study, as most research on Black
college students tends to be focused on the experiences of Black students at
Historically Black Colleges and Universities or Historically White Colleges and
Universities. Moreover, research on Latin@ college students is less common than
that which examines the experiences of Black students. Yet at BU, Black and
Latin@ students can be found in abundance, creating an unusual institution – a
university dominated by two minority groups.
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As a relatively young, Black and Brown institution, BU’s future growth will
be indelibly shaped by the larger metropolitan region. In particular, the ways in
which African American – Latin@ relations develop off campus will likely influence
the future racial trajectory and politics of BU. As exemplified by MSA, the Black
and Brown students of BU have a tenuous relationship, yet conflict between the two
groups has not in any capacity mirrored the violence between African Americans and
Latin@s which has increasingly become common in many of the students’ home
neighborhoods.
In spite of the clearly racialized lives of BU’s student population, the
university’s response to issues of race – Multicultural Student Affairs – appears to be
lacking with its propagation of liberal multiculturalism. While MSA has engaged
some critical discourses on race, including addressing the post-9/11 experiences of
Arab and Muslim Americans, it still is prone to primarily cultural programming.
While BU could potentially address issues of institutional and covert racism, such as
its students’ struggles with financial stability, which in turn negatively affects their
education, it does not, preferring to entertain race as culture via MSA. It is quite
possible that the university’s approach to race is the consequence of its youth and
that with time, it will develop a more progressive approach. Yet it is also equally
likely that BU has simply become enamored with the democratic idealism of liberal
multiculturalism. Thus, given social institutions’ tendency to assume “safe”
practices when it comes to race, it may be BU students who will be the ones to
propel BU to change.
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Comparative Analysis of Race Based Student Services at Western
University, California University, and Bay University

A comparative analysis of the racial histories of Western University,
California University, and Bay University, including the establishment of race based
student services at each institution, reveals the instrumental role universities have
played in the racial politics of the U.S., their influence over the racial identity
formations of students, and the ways in which differing racial projects come to be
deployed by institutions of higher education.
The Process of Deploying Racial Projects
As indicated through the historical accounts of Western University,
California University, and Bay University, these institutions put forth three different
racial projects in the present era. The racial projects institutionalized often times
seem incongruent with the institution’s history – that is, they are not the racial
projects which we might expect these institutions to propagate. Western University,
for instance, was impacted the most by the racialized social movements of the sixties
and early seventies, experiencing great upheaval on it campus with such incidents as
the arrest of the Freedom Riders and massive anti-Vietnam demonstrations. In
contrast, California University and Bay University experienced much less large scale
activism, and that activism which occurred appears to have been more localized,
particularly at BU. At California University, Chican@s fought for an increase in
Mexican American faculty, and at Bay University administrators became embroiled
in ongoing conflict with the local NAACP chapter over racial discrimination on
campus. These differences can be attributed to the size of the universities, public
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and private status of the universities, as well as the date of establishment. In
particular, Western University has always been the largest of the three campuses,
which has made it much more visible and prone to becoming enveloped into national
level racial politics and social movements. Furthermore, its public status
distinguishes it from California University, which historically has been able to
insulate itself from much of the contentious racial politics of the sixties and seventies
by simply not admitting or hiring people of color in substantial numbers. Finally,
the date of establishment and nature of the universities has impacted their level of
involvement with racialized activism and social movements. This is clearly the case
with Bay University, which was not established until 1968 and thus entered the
political realm at a much later date than the other two universities. Furthermore, Bay
University has always focused on serving a working class, commuter population.
BU’s late establishment and demographics are such that it missed much of the height
of the Civil Rights movement and did not retain a large “in house” student
population to become intensely involved with activist politics.
Given their differing histories and corresponding involvement with racial
politics, one might expect that Western University would engage in the most liberal
and leftisit of racial projects of the three universities. Yet data analysis indicates that
Western University is currently propagating colorblindness as a consequence of legal
mandates. WU no longer takes race into account during the admissions process and
no longer uses race as a criterion for admission into supplemental academic
programs such as the Center for Academic Achievement. The potentially dire
consequences of a colorblind racial project have come to fruition with alarmingly
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low number of new African American admits to WU. The seeming incongruency of
WU’s history of racial activism with its current policy of colorblindness, illustrates
the rapidity with which institutions, racial projects, and racial politics can change. I
argue that the more prominent the institution, the more political players have at
stake, which can result in ongoing and significant upheavals as racialized battles for
power and resources are waged. More specifically, Western University is the most
prominent and well regarded of the universities, which means that when racial issues
arise at WU, more attention will be paid. National media outlets, for instance, have
covered the low admission rates of Black students to Western University. In contrast,
the plight of BU’s working class African American students receives scant attention.
The differential concern expressed for these two groups of African American
students is rooted in the stature of their respective universities, as well as larger
political trends. That is, in the post-Civil Rights era, infinitely more attention seems
to be paid to narrow racial interests, such as affirmative action, rather than broad
racial interests, such as economic equality. In turn, it follows that the struggle of a
hundred African American students at Western University would induce greater
alarm and political debate than the struggle of thousands of African American
students at Bay University. Therefore, both the size and prominence of an institution
like Western University, as well as the increasingly particularistic nature of racial
politics, can help to explain the presence of significant shifts in racial projects on
WU’s campus.
As a result of its highly regarded status within the country, racial
controversies at Western University attract much more concern and involvement
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from all persons and organizations invested in the racial projects with which WU
involves itself. For example, WU and other prominent universities, such as the
University of Michigan, have been targeted for affirmative action lawsuits. Such
universities have become a target because they represent the most desirable and
sought after of educations and a successful lawsuit against a large and well funded
university has vast consequences – i.e., if they cannot win, neither can a smaller
university which cannot afford the same level of counsel. Because they are high
profile, valuable targets, institutions such as Western University, become more
subject to drastic changes in racial projects. Hence, WU has gone from the most
liberal of the three universities with students and faculty engaged in a vast range of
Civil Rights and cultural nationalist projects, to a university operating under the
thumb of colorblindness.
Deviating from the racial politics of Western University, California
University currently propagates a decidedly more liberal racial project – that of left-
liberal multiculturalism – via its race based student service offices. As with WU, the
changes which can be observed at California University might come as a surprise, as
it has moved from an overwhelmingly conservative institution, to one which
trumpets its racial diversity and its cultural nationalist originated African
American/Black Student Services, Chican@ Student Services, and Center for Asian
Pacific American Student Services. Yet California University has made such
adjustments to its racial projects in part to capitalize on Western Univeristy and other
public universities’ foray into colorblindness. As competitors for a similar group of
students, CU has slowly attempted to change its image, particularly among students
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of color. It has strongly emphasized its community service programs and its
increasing diversity. Underlying its messages has been the affirmative action debate.
That is, rival private schools such as CU, have tried to suggest that they are
welcoming of students of color, while Western University is not, given their anti-
affirmative action stance. In order to lend legitimacy to such claims, CU has had to
participate in more liberal racial projects, hence, its continued support for explicitly
race based student services.
In contrast to Western University and California University, Bay University
has experienced much less upheaval when it comes to changing racial projects of the
university. The relative steadiness of racial projects at BU is the result of its later
establishment and lower profile. Unlike WU and CU, which were established in the
early 1900s, Bay University was not created until 1968, and it thus missed much of
the Civil Rights movement and began its institutional life on the cusp of the post-
Civil Rights era. Moreover, BU has always been an institution which has served a
working class population, which automatically (and unfortunately) translates into
less prestige. Consequently, BU has not been the subject or target of high profile
racial debates, as Western University has. Hence, Bay University, in the
contemporary era, has been able to consistently support a racial project of liberal
multiculturalism without drawing any attention to itself.
Racial Projects and Institutionalized Conceptions of Race and Racial Identity
The differing racial projects put forth by Western University, California
University, and Bay University have fundamentally shaped race based student
services at each university, including the ways in which RBSS are structured and
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organized, the programming undertaken by RBSS, the philosophies of RBSS, and
RBSS understandings of students’ racial identities.
In putting forth a racial project of colorblindness, the Center for Academic
Achievement at Western University is organized in a de-racialized manner, and
conducts programming in a de-racialized manner. With a philosophy of academic
excellence, there is no separate programming for different racial groups, rather
counselors work with students of a variety of races to improve their academic
performance and progress. Furthermore, programming, such as tutorials, graduate
school preparation counseling, and support services for transfer students do not
explicitly take race into account. In contrast, the left-liberal multiculturalism
manifested in California University’s African American/Black Student Services,
Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific American Student
Services, results in a centering of race. Black, Latin@, and APA students are
perceived to be distinct groups in need of specific support services. Operating under
philosophies that emphasize increasing retention for African American students,
raising the political consciousness of APA students, and community building among
Latin@ students, each unit hence undertakes a variety of programming, including
academic counseling, cultural performances, and forums on racism. Finally, Bay
University’s Multicultural Student Affairs operates under a liberal multiculturalist
paradigm. In spite of having separate student program coordinators for African
Americans, Asian Pacific Americans, Latin@s, and Middle Easterners, MSA
operates differently from RBSS at CU, as it takes a cultural approach to issues of
race, rather than addressing institutional racism. Seeking to foster healthy relations
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between the various racial groups on campus, MSA creates programming such as
multicultural festivals and movie screenings.
The differing approaches of race based student services at each university
also entail varying conceptualizations of students’ racial identities. WU’s race based
student services have been forced to, at least in official terms, disregard the
importance of students’ racial identities. This reality is most evident in the post-209
alteration in CAA admissions, in which students’ racial identities are no longer taken
into account. However, the effects of colorblindness also extend into interactions
between counselors and their students. In interviews, most counselors indicated that
race and racial identity only became an issue when the student(s) brought it up as a
topic of concern in a counseling session. In contrast, African American Student
Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific American
Student Services at California University explicitly centered race and their students’
racial identities in their programming and services. For example, during the period
of data collection, CAPASS organized a workshop regarding APA’s experiences in
the corporate world and the challenges of coping with co-workers and superiors who
apply the model minority stereotype to APA employees. Finally, Multicultural
Student Affairs at Bay University tangentially dealt with issues of racial identity – it
does not ignore race in the same way as CAA, but it is also not as explicit as CU race
based student services in addressing racial identity. In holding events such as the
Multicultural Celebration, in which students are organizers and participants, MSA
offers an affirming cultural view of students’ racial identities by celebrating the food
and arts of varying racial groups.
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The differing ways in which the race based student services at Western
University, California University, and Bay University conceptualize and deal with
issues of racial identity, is significant given the increasing fluidity and porous nature
of racial identity boundaries. In the post-Civil Rights era, increasing challenges have
been made to the racial pentagon and to monoracialism, and these challenges are
often made by young, college students. Ethnic identities, intersectional identities and
mixed race identities have all emerged as prominent identities mobilized by students.
Consequently, given universities and race based student services’ preeminent role in
racial politics on and off of college campuses, and their concomitant role in racial
formations processes, it is significant to examine how these institutions and services
are coping with a changing student body. To that end, in Part II, I proceed to
examine the experiences of biracial students at Western University, California
University, and Bay University, and the ways in which race based student services at
each of these universities shape and respond to biracial identity. Following Part II, I
explore the dynamics of people of color formations among students in Part III of this
dissertation.
310
Part 2: The Construction and Mobilization of Biracial
Identity - Disrupting the Monoracial Landscape of
Universities
Introduction
Is Obama Black Enough?
Ever since Barack Obama first ascended the national stage at the 2004
Democratic convention, pundits have been tripping over themselves to point out
the difference between him and the average Joe from the South Side. Obama is
biracial, and has a direct connection with Africa. He is articulate, young and
handsome. He does not feel the need to yell ‘Reparations now!’ into any
available microphone. The Illinois Senator is a different kind of African-
American candidate. But this is a double-edged sword. As much as his biracial
identity has helped Obama build a sizable following in middle America, it's also
opened a gap for others to question his authenticity as a black man (Coates,
2007).

As the young, dynamic “superstar” of the 2008 race for the White House, Barack
Obama has received little criticism. Some political pundits have naturally and
justifiably questioned Obama’s seeming lack of experience, particularly when it
comes to international affairs (Klein, 2005). But such concerns are nothing new for
a young, presidential candidate. What is new, is the debate about Obama’s biracial
identity and its significance to the electorate, as well as to the nation’s history and
future. As Coates implies, Obama’s biracial identity and the way in which Obama
has framed his identity, is actually a significant component of Obama’s appeal. He
is biracial, yet still Black, and non-threatening to white voters. As the son of a white
American mother and Black Kenyan father, Obama represents the harmonious
melting pot that Americans love to embrace (Ripley, 2004). However, in spite of his
biraciality and white heritage, Obama cannot simply claim to be biracial or white.
His Blackness is unavoidable, courtesy of the one drop rule. And Obama does
311
embrace his Blackness – as a young attorney he made a point to serve poor African
American communities, particularly those on the South Side of Chicago (Obama,
2007). Yet because of his biraciality and his refusal to engage in explicitly racialized
politics (a la Al Sharpton), Obama is able to retain his white fanbase (Ripley, 2004).
Furthermore, his generally moderate, inclusive, and idealistic ideologies are
palatable to a wide range of Americans of all races who are attracted to Obama’s
charisma and intelligence. However, in turn, the same factors have led some African
Americans to question Obama’s Blackness and his commitment to openly addressing
issues of race (Patterson, 2007).
Barack Obama’s story and the media narratives surrounding his candidacy
bring to light the many questions raised by biracial identity, which by their very
nature, are questions about the historical, contemporary, and future significance of
race in U.S. society. What does it mean to be white…or to be Black, Latin@, or
Asian Pacific American, for that matter? Is it truly possible to form an identity
which embraces more than one race? How do politics and political readings of race
circumscribe one’s racial identity? As the number of Americans identifying as
biracial or multiracial grows, the answers to such questions will continue to be
debated.
Obama’s presence on the national political stage has illuminated these
questions and their possible answers. Yet there are many individuals in American
society, outside of the public limelight, who are asked and confronted by these
questions every day. As a group, these individuals of biracial and multiracial
backgrounds tend to be disproportionately young and concentrated on the West
312
Coast, particularly in California and Hawaii
42
(Jones, 2005). They represent one of
the key changes in racial identity in the post-Civil Rights era. More specifically, the
post-Civil Rights era has been a period of increasing racial fluidity, in which people
have increasingly challenged the American racial pentagon and monoracialism,
which contend that every individual falls into one of five predetermined racial
categories – African American/Black, Asian Pacific American, Latin@, white, or
Native American (Winters and DeBose, 2003; Yetman, 1998). Yet as Obama’s story
indicates, the increasing presence of biracial and multiracial persons in U.S. society
and its corollary racial fluidity should not be mistaken for a colorblind society, as
race remains a primary tool for social organization and allocation of resources,
including political representation (Omi and Winant, 1994).
The Experiences of Biracial College Students
Given the demographic and ideological changes in race in the post-Civil
Rights era, Part II of this dissertation draws on interviews with students and
administrators to examine the experiences of one group of people – biracial college
students – whose lives illuminate contemporary complications of race. In this
examination, I utilize racial formations theory and the concept of Du Boisian double
consciousness to analyze the relationship between biracial college students and
institutions of higher education. I argue that the varying institutional contexts of
each university, and in particular the racial projects deployed by each university,
have influenced the experiences of biracial students, as well as their identities. Yet I
also argue that it is possible for biracial students to exercise agency by organizing

42
Over 20% of Hawaii’s population identified as more than one race on the Census (Morning, 2003).
313
and mobilizing biracial identity and challenging entrenched notions of race. In the
following discussion I briefly discuss my findings and argument in order to lay the
groundwork for a deeper analysis throughout the following chapters.
In Part I, I provided a portrait of each institution, which in the chapters at
hand, will help us to understand biracial students’ experiences. In particular, we are
able to observe the influence of different institutional contexts on biracial identity
formations
43
. I argue that the more open an institution is to discussing and
addressing issues of race, the more likely it is that the institution will create an
environment which allows for students to identify as biracial and/or create
organizations based on biracial identity that exhibit progressive and critically
conscious thinking about race. This is not so much a direct cause and effect
relationship between the institution and students’ biracial identities, but a more
nuanced relationship in which an institutional context of racial openness is more
conducive to fostering the space necessary for biracial identity formations. This
positive relationship is exemplified at California University, a private four year
university. Through its race based student service offices, African American/Black
Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific
American Student Services, CU engages left-liberal multiculturalism, which entails
explicit discussions of racial difference and racial inequality. In turn, this openness

43
Although much of the literature on multiracial identity has focused on the personal aspects of the
multiracial experience, there is a limited amount of research which highlights the importance of
institutions. For example, in Brunsma’s (2005) work on multiracial school children, “abundant
evidence” is found “that the racial composition of organizational contexts and social networks affects
the ways in which multiracial individuals will self-identify. This should also affect the parental
designations of these mixed-race kindergarten-aged children given their school compositions”
(p.1135).

314
seems to create space for biracial identity formations, which at CU is manifested
through many students who identify as biracial, as well as the organization Hapa
Students United (HSU). However, even in such an open environment, biracial
students tend to experience some marginalization and otherness due to the influence
of monoracialism on the organization and racial politics of the university. That is,
the deployment of left-liberal multiculturalism includes an emphasis on the distinct
and unique nature and interests of different racial groups, in particular, African
Americans, Asian Americans, Latin@s, American Indians, and whites. In turn,
although administrators of these race based student services do recognize the
presence of mixed race students on campus, extensive thought and credence is not
give to these students’ experiences, as these student services are focused on their
monoracial populations. Consequently, there is a tendency for biracial CU students
to feel only tacit acceptance from the university, and to a less extent, from their
peers.
In contrast to California University, those universities which either refuse or
are unable to explicitly engage with race leave less room for the development and
enactment of biracial identity. Western University falls into this category, as it has
been restrained by Proposition 209 and unfortunately fallen into a colorblind abyss.
Underneath the auspices of a colorblind racial project, programs such as the Center
for Academic Achievement (CAA) are left ill-equipped to confront and cope with
changing issues of race among the student population. Furthermore, the
consequences of Prop 209, such as plummeting Black enrollment, has left CAA and
WU constantly mired in traditional issues of access and retention of students of
315
color. Therefore, even if CAA and WU had the capability to respond to biracial
students, they would be hindered by other racial problems on campus generally
viewed as more consequential. Moreover, although CAA is officially colorblind, in
reality, it is a “raced” program which tends to reify a traditional monoracialist view
of racial identity. At Western University, then, we see that students who identify as
biracial are not as strong in their identification as those at California University. In
many ways, they feel ambivalent about their racial identities and at times engage in
apathetic or colorblind ideologies and discourses. This weaker racial formation is
reflected in a Hapa student organization which primarily functions as a social
organization, unlike CU’s more politically conscious Hapa organization.
Data in this chapter thus shows that the way in which a university deals with
race, and in particular, the racial projects it legitimizes, can provide an institutional
context which is conducive or antagonistic to biracial identity formations. However,
data also indicates that how a university deals with race, in some cases, can be
secondary to the demographics of the university in shaping biracial identity
formations.
More specifically, in contrast to California University and Western
University, biracial identity formations were virtually non-existent at Bay University,
and I attribute this social reality to BU’s predominantly Black, Latin@, and working
class population. In short, these populations are not ones which are conducive to the
proliferation of biracial identity. For African Americans, the one drop rule prevents
the development and proliferation of biracial identity, and for Latin@s, the
ideological and identity construct of mestizaje makes engagement with biracial
316
identity unnecessary. Moreover, the working class nature of BU students generally
militates against biracial identity formations, as a significant amount of research has
shown that interracial marriages and relationships are more common among upper
class people, and therefore the presence of mixed race identified persons in the
working class is low (Jacobs and Labov, 2002). The working class population at BU
is also characterized by a significant number of returning students, who are of non-
traditional age. Therefore, because many BU students come from a generation in
which interracial relationships and marriages were less common, the likelihood that
students are the products of such relationships or marriages is vastly diminished.
Thus, in spite of BU’s efforts to institutionalize a racial project of liberal
multiculturalism via Multicultural Student Affairs (MSA), this multiculturalism in
practice ultimately does not comprehensively include biracial identity formations
simply because there is a scarcity of students who identify in such a way.
Furthermore, although MSA does recognize the significance of mixed race persons’
experiences, given that one of its student program coordinators is biracial, it still
remains organized around monoracial identities and categories.
The differing degrees to which biracial identity formations can be observed at
WU, CU, and BU illustrates that racial formations vary in different contexts. Such
variation debunks people’s everyday thinking about race. That is, there is a tendency
to assume that race functions similarly across geographical boundaries, social
institutions, and social groups, when in fact it functions differently according to
gender, class, and geographic region (Nakano Glenn, 2004). Failing to acknowledge
this reality is dangerous, for it inevitably causes misunderstandings and even racial
317
conflict. For example, although several students at BU stated that they had relatives
and ancestors of different races, it would have been a mistake for me to assume that
these students identify as biracial or multiracial in the same manner as their
counterparts at CU and WU. Such as assumption would entail reliance on the faulty
belief that the environments in which the students grew up and institutions with
which the students had contact, simply made no differences in their understanding of
race.
Organization of Chapters in Part II and Theoretical Framework
In the following chapters, which constitute Part II of this dissertation, I
explore the historical and theoretical implications of biraciality and multiraciality
and then proceed to analyze data collected from the three universities. In Part II I
first recount a brief history of multiracial people in the U.S. in order to provide
greater context for my discussions of contemporary biracial identity. Here, I
examine the ways in which social scientists have historically conceived of
multiracial persons as problematic biological and social aberrations. Extending this
examination, I investigate the complexities of categorizing and identifying mixed
race people. Finally, this chapter entails a substantial discussion of the one drop rule,
mestizaje, and Hapa identity, as these understandings of biraciality and multiraciality
have substantially shaped the identities and experiences of mixed race peoples.
Moreover, these concepts illuminate the varying ways in which different racial
groups have coped with multiraciality.
318
Second, I discuss and analyze the major theoretical paradigms which have
been utilized to understand mixed race identities
44
. I group research and literature
into three paradigms. The cultural nationalist paradigm, rooted in the sixties and
seventies, emphasizes the importance of mixed race people identifying as people of
color in the name of racial solidarity. The personal and positive approach views
multiracial identity as a matter of an individual’s right to identify as he/she wishes,
and argues that an increasing multiracial population is indicative of the decline of
racism. The third paradigm, the historical and socio-political paradigm, avoids
making value judgments about individual identity choices and instead examines the
social construction of multiraciality throughout history and its political implications.
Third, I lay my own theoretical groundwork for an analysis of biracial
identity within institutions of higher education with a discussion of racial formations
theory and W.E.B. Du Bois’ concept of double consciousness. My theoretical
framework is based on the reality that “Race not only shapes our private, personal
interactions but plays a fundamental role in our public institutional interactions as
well” (Payson, 1996, p. 1234). Racial formations is an appropriate theory for the
analysis of biracial identity because it acknowledges that the social construction of
racial identity is a dynamic process circumscribed by the existing political
environment and social institutions. Such a viewpoint is validated and exemplified
by the institutions of higher education and biracial students who are the subjects of
this chapter. That is, my analysis of data in this chapter exemplifies the reality that

44
In these first two sections, I use the terms multiracial identity and mixed race identity
interchangeably. Although my specific research focus is that of biracial identity, these sections more
broadly examine multiracial and mixed race identity, as the literatures on these identities essentially
envelope the literatures on biracial identity.
319
biracial identity formations among students are shaped by the larger campus
environment.
Despite its vast utility for understanding the institutional and structural
dimensions of race, the application of racial formations theory often leads to the
inadvertent neglect of the micro-level, lived dimensions of race. Therefore, to
supplement racial formations, I also use Du Boisian double consciousness to
describe, illuminate, and analyze the lived experiences of biracial college students.
Du Boisian double consciousness, also known as duality, is useful here, as it does not
disregard the importance of social structure and social institutions, instead simply
emphasizing the painful experience of otherness, when one is subject to the demands
and stresses of multiple racial worlds. The data in this study indicates that this is
often the experience of biracial students, who feel that they must navigate the racial
terrain of their campuses with caution and feel caught between and among racial
groups, none of whom yields complete acceptance.
After reviewing my theoretical framework, in chapters 5 and 6 I proceed to
discuss the experiences of biracial students at California University, Western
University, and Bay University. In these discussions, I focus on the students’
identity formations, as well as their interaction with institutional entities, in this case,
race based student services. Finally, I analyze the significance of student
organizations based on biracial and/or multiracial identities, with special attention
paid to socio-political identities of these organizations and their members, as well as
the organizations’ interaction with the institution.

320
A History of Multiracial People in the United States
The concepts of biraciality and multiraciality are in no uncertain terms
(natural) scientific fallacies, as the concept of race itself has no basis in biology.
According to Payson (1996, p.1241), “attempts to locate genetic markers for race
have failed because there often exists greater genetic variation within racial groups
than among racial groups.” In turn, scientists, humanists, and theologians have duly
noted that the only race is the “human race” (Spinner-Haley, 1995; Willis, 2004).
Given the ruse of race, which has so often been passed off as a biological
reality, many legitimate questions are raised for a researcher, such as myself, who
studies race. Why talk about race? Don’t discussions of race and racial categories
inevitably reinforce racist sensibilities? Why conduct a study on the experiences of
biracial college students if the basis of categorization here is false? From a
sociological perspective, the answer to such queries is clear – although race is not a
biological reality, it is a social reality, which has unequivocally and fundamentally
shaped individual persons’ lived experiences, including interactions with social
institutions, as well as racial groups’ access to the rights and resources society has to
offer. The fact that race is not a biological entity is in many cases quite simply
irrelevant in people’s daily lives and in the functioning of institutions. Take, for
example, an African American man who struggles to flag down a cab. His
experience with racism is real, in spite of the fact that he and the cabbie are no
different biologically. Furthermore, such an analysis can also be extended to social
institutions, including the state. The U.S. government, for instance, mandates that
the Census use racial categories in its collection of data (Williams, 2006). The
321
government in part makes such a choice in contemporary times, not necessarily
because it believes that there are different biological groups who must be tracked,
but because race has historically impacted Americans’ experiences, from influencing
access to education and healthcare, to voting choices during electoral periods
(Feagin, 2001).
It is thus clear that race merits intense investigation regardless of whether it is
a biological characteristic or not. Moreover, given the vast changes which have
occurred in U.S. society in the post-Civil Rights era, including the dismantling of
legalized segregation, large flows of immigration from Mexico, Central America,
Asia, and the Caribbean, and the increasing attention focused on Arab Americans in
the aftermath of 9/11, it is a significant endeavor to engage in a historical
examination of multiracial persons, who paradoxically represent the fluidity and
constancy of race in U.S. society (Khalidi, 2005; Massey, 2003; Park and Park,
2005; Root, 2001).
While many construe of multiracial persons as a “new” phenomenon, such a
statement is empirically inaccurate. Sexual interactions between Blacks and whites
occurred from the very establishment of the U.S. and were rampant during slavery.
Typically sexual relations were coerced, with white slave masters, as well as other
whites, raping Black women (Collins, 2001). Hence, a population of racially mixed
persons of Black and white heritage emerged early on in U.S. history
45
(Davis,

45
While interracial mixing and biracial / multiracial persons have been a fixture in U.S. society from
its earliest days, it is also important to refrain from overstating this fact. That is, in comparison to the
other countries in the Americas, the U.S. has historically experienced less interracial mixing. For
example, it is well documented that Spanish colonizers in Mexico mixed with the indigenous
population at a vastly greater rate than their Anglo-Saxon counterparts in the U.S. Moreover, Brazil
322
1991). In the U.S., “Mixed race African Americans were labeled Creole (in
Louisiana), mulatto, quadroon, and octoroon, depending on their degree of
blackness” (Texeria, 2003, p.). Yet interracial relationships resulting in biracial and
multiracial children were not solely confined to Blacks and whites. In the West
during the early 1900s, interracial mixing occurred between whites and Asian
immigrants, although such mixing was rare and viewed as an abomination
46
. Native
American and white relationships also occurred from the time of initial contact, and
given their close social standing and geographical proximity in some areas of the
U.S., African Americans and Native Americans also engaged in interracial
relationships
47
(Brooks, 2002; Forbes, 1993; Perdue, 2005).
In light of the undeniable existence of interracial relationships and mixed race
persons, early on, researchers attempted to explain these apparent social anomalies,
which uncomfortably contradicted the well nurtured belief that the races were meant
to be separate, as intended by God (Romano, 2003). With the likely intention of
discouraging interracial mixing, researchers contended that interracial relationships

has also been shown to be a much more racially mixed society than the U.S. (Skidmore, 1993).
However, the conclusion that such societies are henceforth infinitely more racially progressive than
the U.S. should be avoided, for as Skidmore (1993) indicates, darker skinned peoples in these
countries still suffer from a lower standard of living, including high infant mortality, lower life
expectancy, lower levels of education, and poor housing.
46
In Roger Daniels’ work Concentration Camps USA (1971, p.15) he recounts the following story, as
told by Ralph Newman, a white minister who observed an interracial relationship between a white
woman and Japanese American man in 1913: “Near my home is an eighty-acre tract of as fine land as
there is in California. On that tract lives a Japanese. With that Japanese lives a white woman. In that
woman’s arms is a baby. What is that baby? It isn’t white. It isn’t Japanese. It is a germ of the
mightiest problem that ever faced this state; a problem that will make the black problem of the South
look white.”
47
The close social standing and great intermixing between African Americans and Native Americans
did not and has not translated into wholesale acceptance of persons of Black-Native American
heritage. As Bordewich (1989) notes in Killing the White Man’s Indian, “Mention African blood
even to younger Lumbees, and there is still a tensing, a narrowing of the eyes. It is the old terror of
blood taint, an almost physical loathing.” Bordewich’s statements suggest that even today, the
presence of African ancestry within Native American tribes is taboo.

323
and marriages were inherently less “stable,” as “miscegenation commonly spells
disharmony – disharmony of physical, mental and temperamental qualities”
(Davenport, 1917, p.367; Monahan, 1970). Furthermore, researchers, as well as
creative writers
48
, took great pains to document the difficulties of the offspring of
interracial unions, who were ascribed a variety of labels, including the marginal man,
tragic mulatto, and hybrid. The famous sociologist Robert Park (1931, p.534)
described the marginal man: “He feels…the conflict of warring ancestry in his
veins. The conflict of color, so to speak, is embodied, in his person. His mind is the
melting pot in which the lower and the higher cultures meet and fuse.” Stonequist
(quoted in Masuoka, 1945, p.328) proceeded to built on Park’s conceptualization of
the marginal man, arguing that the marginal man exhibited particularly troublesome
personality traits, including
dual self consciousness and identification; ambivalence of attitude and
sentiment; fluctuating and contradictory opinions; irrational, moody, and
temperamental conduct; excessive self consciousness; inferiority complexes;
and by a process of over compensation, superiority complexes.

48
Mixed race people frequently appeared in literature in the early 19
th
century (Sollors, 2000). The
popular tragic mulatta character functioned to reify society’s fears about interracial relationships and
multiracial people and reinforce the perceived need for legislation against interracial
relationships/marriages. The tragic mulatta was typically a sad and confused woman, whose life was
consumed by her inability to fit into the Black or white world. A frequently cited example of
literature employing the tragic mulatto image is Nella Larsen’s Passing (1929), in which a light
skinned Black woman named Clare Kendry passes for white and marries a white man. Ultimately,
her husband is confronted by the possibility that Clare is Black, and she soon dies from an
unexplained fall out of a building window (Tate, 1980). Zora Neale Hurston also wrote about her
experience as a multiracial African American, lamenting the divisions she observed within the Black
community: “I sensed early that the Negro race was not one band of heavenly love…I learned that
skins were no measure of what was inside people. I began to laugh at both white and black who
claimed special blessings on the basis of race” (1937, p. 190).

324
Building upon Stonequist’s assertions, Davenport (1917, p.367) describes the
purported dysfunctional nature of multiracial persons, stating “A hybridized people
are a badly put together people and a dissatisfied, restless, ineffective people.”
Biracial and multiracial persons were hence looked upon with pity and
marginalized by a society which viewed them as an aberration. However, it must
also be noted here that even researchers such as Stonequist and Park occasionally
recognized that being a biracial or multiracial person might ultimately yield some
benefits. As Stonequist (quoted in Masuoka, 1945, p.328) noted,
…it is because of his marginal position that he is able to look with a certain
degree of critical detachment upon the culturally contrasted worlds of his
parents. At the same time he is likely to feel himself not quite home in either.

While such assessments of multiracial persons as somehow gifted with a special
racial knowledge and viewpoint was unusual for early research on multiraciality,
with most perspectives favoring depictions of multiracial persons’ malaise, this
assessment has more recently gained popularity with researchers and writers excited
by multiracial persons’ purported capacity to bridge racial divisions (Zack, 1994).
Politicians and legislators also fed into white hysteria surrounding interracial
marriages and relationships through heated rhetoric and the creation of anti-
miscegenation laws (Newbeck, 2005). These laws were not limited to prohibiting
Black-white relations, but also extended to other communities of color. As Spickard
(1989, p.36) notes, “In 1905, the California Assembly, anxious lest White
womanhood be torn from the pedestal by yellow hands, made miscegenation
between Asians and whites illegal.”
325
In addition to concerns over interracial marriages and the “character” of
multiracial people, debates over the categorization, including governmental
classification, of multiracial peoples, have occurred frequently throughout U.S.
history. The categorization of mixed race persons has always been significant to a
society organized around a racial hierarchy
49
. As Morning (2003, p.50) states,
Multiracial people’s intermediate social role also had material implications in
a society in which, to white eyes, blacks represented a wealth of land. How
mixed-race individuals of European, African, and American Indian ancestry
were defined could at times make all the difference between being property
and owning it.
Consequently, although for a time during the 19
th
century, censuses did in fact
account for mulatto and mixed race (Native American) persons, different modes of
categorizations soon developed which functioned to maintain white power (Morning,
2003). The most significant of these modes was the one drop rule
50
, which grew in
strength in the post-Civil War (Davis, 2001). Given the one drop rule’s historical
and contemporary role in defining mixed race persons with Black ancestry, in the

49
It is important to note that concern over identities and categorizations has been particularly acute for
multiracial people with white ancestry (Morning, 2003). Such concern was rooted in fears that mixed
race persons might pass and infiltrate the white community in a bid to seize power for Blacks and
other non-whites. Hence, historically, less attention has been paid to multiracial people with solely
minority parentage (i.e., an individual with an African American father and Asian American mother).
50
The desire to maintain white power and privilege through the tool of racial categorizations also
affected other communities of color, although in different capacities. For example, Payson (1996)
notes that in classifying Native Americans, the U.S. government has typically taken an approach
opposite to that of the one drop rule. That is, because being Native American translates into the
ability to access certain resources, it has been in the majority society’s best interest to limit the
number of people who can be identified as Native American. Payson (1996, p.1249-1250) writes,
“the Bureau of Indian Affairs currently recognizes as Native Americans only persons with one-quarter
or more Native American ancestry. As a result, many persons considered Native American by their
tribes are classified as white by the Federal government.” Hence, when it comes to identification of
Native Americans, we see that the U.S. government has historically taken a different approach when
compared to the categorization of African Americans, yet this different approach is still designed with
the same goal in mind – to ensure white control and dominance of resources. Furthermore, the
historically intense need to define where mixed race people belong also reflects the inherently
political and power laden process of identity construction which continues to this day.

326
following discussion I present an analysis of the rule and its impact on race in U.S.
society. Furthermore, I then proceed to discuss other important concepts of mixed
race identity, including mestizaje and Hapa identity, which have been used to explain
multiraciality within the Latin@ and Asian Pacific American communities.
The One Drop Rule, Blackness and the Negation of Biracial Identity
While the multiracial identity movement tends to portray interracial
relationships and their offspring as a “new” social phenomenon, the historical reality
is that race mixing, and hence biracial and multiracial people, have existed since
colonist interlopers arrived in Northern America (Muller, 1936). Yet throughout the
colonial, slavery, and antebellum eras, biracial and multiracial people with Black
ancestry were not termed biracial or multiracial, but mulatto. Hickman (1997,
p.1172) notes that official documentation of the existence of mulattoes appears as
early as “1632, a mere fourteen years after the first Blacks arrived in Jamestown.”
The term mulatto was often used to describe a person who was born of a relationship
between a Black and white person, between a racially mixed Black-white and white
person, or between two racially mixed people (Zackodnik, 2001). Furthermore, the
more specific terms of quadroon and octoroon were also utilized to described racially
mixed persons; more specifically a quadroon was one fourth Black and an octoroon,
one eighth Black (Bost, 1998).
Just as mulattoes existed since the early days of Jamestown, so did social and
political concern about what to do about this racially ambiguous group (Topiln,
1979; Zackodnik, 2001). Legislation to prevent interracial mixing and the
subsequent creation of mulattoes also came early in U.S. history. In fact, laws
327
against interracial sexual relationships appeared in Maryland in 1664 and
compellingly, the court decision meting out punishment for Black-white sexual
relations is “the first reported judicial decision to allude to Blacks in any way”
(Hickman, 1997, p.1173). Yet it was clearly impossible to stop all interracial
relationships and prevent mixed race persons from coming into existence. As a
result, attention turned to managing the mulatto population in such a way that the
boundaries between whites and Blacks were maintained, as well as the privileged
status of whites. As early as the seventeenth century, mulattoes were defined as
Black by judicial rulings (Hickman, 1997). Mulattoes were automatically placed in
the racial category of their mothers – which inevitably was the Negro category. This
yielded social and economic benefits for whites, and in particular, white slave
masters, who could escape financial responsibility for their children, as well as
secure a new slave (Hickman, 1997). Yet up until the early 1920s, the U.S. Census
retained a mulatto category, as well as a mixed blood category to identify persons of
mixed race with American Indian ancestry (Morning, 2003).
In spite of their Black heritage, mulattoes were not always simply treated the
same as their Black counterparts. For a time, mulattoes in different geographic
regions were treated differently – those in the upper South were viewed as Black,
while those in the lower South, who were fewer in number, were often treated a bit
less harshly than Blacks (Jones, 2003; Payson, 1996). Moreover, mulattoes were
sometimes evaluated on a social level to determine their racial categorization. That
is, the courts would judge the mulatto’s “character” and then make a ruling on
his/her racial identity (Toplin, 1979). Thus, throughout the era of slavery, we can
328
observe mixed messages when it comes to the categorization, identification, and
treatment of multiracial people with Black ancestry.
The mixed messages regarding mulattoes’ social status and racial
categorization and varied treatment of mulattoes allowed some multiracial African
Americans to create their own identities and sense of community. The most notable
of these communities that have been documented is the mulatto elite (Gatewood, Jr.,
1988; Gatewood, 2000; Keith and Herring, 1991). Although many, if not most, free
mulatto were impoverished, there was a noticeable portion of the mulatto population
who were able to create their own culture and in many ways, set themselves apart
from the larger African American population (Williamson, 1995). The mulatto elite
and culture yielded both negative and positive consequences for the African
American community at large. Unfortunately, in an attempt to create their own
socio-economic space, mulatto organizations frequently engaged in “colorism,”
which deprecated their darker skinned brethren. For example, the Blue Vein Society
of Nashville admitted people “based upon whether an applicant’s skin color was
light enough for the veins in the wrist to be visible” (Jones, 2000, p.1515). Another
well documented means by which mulatto organizations excluded darker skinned
Blacks was the brown paper bag test, in which a person’s skin color was compared to
a brown paper bag in order to determine whether the person should be admitted to
the organization or social gathering – those who had skin color darker than the bag
would be excluded (Jones, 2000).
Yet just as mulatto organizations and persons can be critiqued for their
racism against darker African Americans, they can also be credited with making
329
attempts to assist darker, and ultimately working class, African Americans. More
specifically, the mulatto elite historically produced key Black leaders, namely
Frederick Douglass and W.E.B. Du Bois, who fought valiantly for the rights of their
community and were able to reach whites in a way that other Blacks could not, as a
consequence of their lighter skin (Berry, 2000; Douglass, Blassingame, McKivigan,
Hinks, and Fulkerson, 2001).
Over time mixed messages regarding mulattoes place in U.S. society
significantly declined with the demise of slavery after the Civil War. During this
time, it became increasingly important to maintain the divide between whites and
Blacks, given that whites could not longer rely on the caste system of slavery (Davis,
2001; Payson, 1996). Moreover, whites were well aware of the existence of
mulattoes, some so light skinned that they could pass as white. Thus, over time, the
mulatto, quadroon, and octoroon categories disintegrated and anyone with Black
ancestry was typically considered Black – the one drop rule (Hickman, 1997). The
one drop rule, which can also be known as the “one black ancestor rule," or the
"traceable amount rule," states that any person with any Black ancestry, no matter
how small, must and can be considered Black (Davis, 2001). This includes those
persons who appear “white” (i.e., blonde hair; green eyes; fair skin tone) to most or
all people. In the 1920 Census, the mulatto, quadroon, and octoroon categories were
eliminated as the U.S. government estimated that “three-quarters of all blacks in the
U.S. were racially mixed already, and that pure blacks would soon disappear. Hence-
forth anyone with any black ancestry at all would be counted simply as black”
(Wright, 1994, p. ). It must also be noted here, that anti-miscegenation sentiments
330
predictably reached their height after emancipation when Blacks, as well as whites,
were opposed to racial mixing. As Payson (1996, p. 1247) writes, “With
emancipation anti-miscegenation reached a feverish pitch, leaving both Blacks and
Whites disinclined to cross the colorline.”
The need for anti-miscegenation legislation and policies to deal with
mulattoes was based upon fundamentally racist beliefs about white supremacy and
Black inferiority. White blood was to be pure and endow a person with desirable
qualities, including intelligence and a civilized nature. In contrast, whites often
believed that Black blood, at any moment, in any amount, could rear its ugly head
and compel a man, even one who appeared to be white, to engage in brute,
animalistic and ultimately uncivilized and inhumane behaviors (Michaels, 1994).
Hence, being racially mixed in any way came to viewed as pathology, no matter how
hidden (Pabst, 2003).
The one drop rule became strongly rooted in U.S. society and has survived to
the present day (Davis, 2001). The one drop rule is viewed by many, including
academics and multiracial identity activists, as being determinedly racist and/or
responsible for the maintenance of a racially stratified and unequal American society
(Powell, 2005; Sweet, 2005).For example, Gotanda (1991, p.44) argues that the rule
props up the myth of white racial purity and “supports racial subordination.” Such
an argument is true, but only to a limited extent, particularly when one evaluates the
insufficiency of mixed race categories to dismantle structures of racism, and the
ways in which the rule has been co-opted by Blacks (Davis, 2001). Over time the
one drop rule has been embraced by African Americans and has been utilized to
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encourage and maintain racial solidarity. Such a phenomenon is perhaps best
exhibited in some of the major African American leaders in U.S. history, who in fact
have also had non-Black ancestry. Malcolm X, Thurgood Marshall, and Martin
Luther King all possessed some white ancestry, and did not deny this reality, but still
chose to make it clear that they identified with Blacks and their political activity was
on behalf of African Americans (Hickman, 1997; Morton, 1985). Furthermore,
historically, many African Americans who could pass as white chose not to do so as
a consequence of the one drop rule. That is, they had been socialized to the Black
community due to the ascription of their racial identities by larger society (Texeira,
2003). Moreover, such individuals may also have had little desire to pass because
their social experiences were those of African Americans, not whites, and they had
been embraced by African Americans.
As a consequence of the ascription of the one drop rule and internalization of
the rule by the Black community, the rule continued to be instrumental in defining
who is Black in the 21
st
Century. This internalization of the one drop rule is due to
an array of factors. First, African Americans continue to face racism, in particular
institutional racism, in the post-slavery, post-Civil Rights era (Bonilla Silva, 2006).
In turn, the African American community often values “power in numbers,” and
readily embraces mixed race persons as Black in the name of racial solidarity (Davis,
2001). Thus, for all its rigidity, the self-application of the one drop rule among
Blacks is in many ways a political endeavor and political identity which reflects the
African American community’s complex thinking about race. As Texeira (2003)
notes, African Americans, often through oral histories of their families, are aware of
332
their mixed race ancestry and may undertake specific practices and customs
associated with this ancestry, such as cooking Creole food. Yet awareness of such
ancestry does not necessarily translate into a mixed race identity, as many of these
persons and families continue to identify as African American/Black. Such a
phenomenon suggests African Americans may recognize, albeit unconsciously, a
difference between the public, political, racial identity of Blackness and multiracially
rooted cultural practices. Second, African Americans recognize that whites (as well
as other non-Black groups) still generally subscribe to the one drop rule and
associate any physical characteristics perceived to be Black with a Black identity
51
.
Hence, while some multiracial African Americans may choose to fight for inclusion
into the white community or other non-Black communities, others often reject a
struggle. That is, why fight to be included in a racial group which does not “want”
you, when there is a racial group – Blacks – who will embrace you as one of their
own? Given the larger socio-political forces underlying the ongoing instrumentality
of the one drop rule, the rule frequently and effectively cripples the proliferation of
biracial or multiracial identities in Black communities.
In spite of the continuing salience of the one drop rule, the recent multiracial
movement has presented some challenges to the rule, perhaps the most compelling of
any challenge (Williams, 2006). As contemporary trends yield an increase of
interracial relationships and marriages between African Americans and other racial

51
For example, research on child development and race indicates that as children become older, they
are more likely to believe in the accuracy of the one drop rule, perceiving mixed race children as
having more Black characteristics, and hence, identifying them as Black (Hirschfeld, 1995). Such
data reveals that the one drop rule is still a significant component of early race socialization and is
used to teach children who is Black and who is not Black.
333
groups, the children of these unions are challenging the logic of the one drop rule,
asserting that they should be able to acknowledge, embrace, and be recognized in
accordance with all of their racial identities (Brunsma, 2005). Yet the challenges the
multiracial movement presents to the one drop rule are not nearly enough to erase
centuries long ideologies and practices utilized to identify who is Black and who is
not. Therefore, as will be shown in my discussion of data, the one drop rule
continues to be preeminent when racially mixed persons with Black ancestry are
identified and categorized.
Mestizaje: La Raza Cosmica

While the one drop rule has shaped the way in which multiracial African
Americans are defined, it is not the only historic concept used to define and identify
mixed race people. As part of the indigenous population of the U.S. and currently
the most populous minority in the U.S., Latin@s, and Mexican Americans in
particular, possess a unique interpretation of mixed race identities rooted in the
colonial, religious, and political dynamics of their home countries. This
interpretation of mixed race is known as mestizaje – both an ideology and identity
which has legitimized mixed race persons in Mexico, as well as Central and Latin
American countries (Alonso, 2004; Martinez-Echazabal, 1998). I argue that the
strong presence of mestizaje in Mexican culture renders a “new,” American rooted
biracial identity unneeded by the community. In the following discussion, I present a
historical analysis of mestizaje from a racial formations perspective. In my analysis,
334
I specifically focus on mestizaje from a Mexican
52
perspective, given that the
majority of Latin@ students in this study are Mexican or Mexican American.
The Origins of Mestizaje
The historic trajectory of racial formations in Mexico developed in a
distinctly different manner than racial formations in the U.S. One of the primary
reasons for the progression of differential racial formations was the European
colonists’ initial relationship with the indigenous, Indian peoples of the Americas. In
the U.S., primarily English colonists at first retained a somewhat equitable trading
relationship with American Indians. However, this relationship was soon
irrevocably altered for as
the number of Europeans increased throughout the seventeenth, eighteenth,
and nineteenth centuries, their demand for land became the primary source of
conflict with American Indians. Moreover, cultivation soon reduced the
supply of game and forced an Indian retreat. As whites expanded westward,
American Indian peoples were frequently expelled from their traditional
settlements to lands beyond the immediate frontier (Yetman, 1999, p.91).

Hence, for the European colonists in the future U.S., race relations were almost
immediately constructed in a strict, oppositional hierarchy, in which the maintenance
of white power involved institution of racial categories associated with genetic traits

52
Similar to Mexico, Puerto Rico and other Latin American countries have racial hierarchies with
numerous strata which recognize racially mixed identities. Rodriguez and Cordero-Guzman (1992,
p.524) write, “In Puerto Rico race came to be seen as a continuum of categories, with different
gradations and shades of colour as the norm…The population of Puerto Rico is mostly descended
from the original Taino Indian settlers, white Spanish colonizers, black slaves brought from Africa,
and countless other immigrants.”
Denton and Massey (1989) attribute the relative tolerance for racial mixing in Latin America to three
factors. First, they contend that Spanish colonizers were more accepting of darker skinned people in
the Americas because of their contact with North Africans. Second, they argue that in contrast to
Anglos’ views of slaves as property, Spaniards viewed slaves and Indians as having some rights
underneath the Spanish empire. Third, the Catholic Church’s role in Spanish colonialism included the
conversion of indigenous peoples.

335
of inferiority and superiority. Furthermore, once land acquisition became a primary
concern, there simply was no practical reason to attempt to engage or work with the
indigenous populations – it was more conducive to white interests to engage in
genocidal practices and push the Native Americans westward (Satz, 2002).
In contrast to Indian-European relations in the U.S., Indian-European,
specifically Indian-Spanish, relations in Mexico, underwent quite different socio-
historical processes. When Hernando Cortes and the Spaniards arrived in Mexico,
both the Aztec and Inca empires were plagued by civil war. The rebel tribes of
Talaxcalans were engaged in constant, widespread battles with Moctezuma. The
internal strife of the Aztec nation served Cortes’ interests of domination well. He
drew soldiers from Talaxcalans into the Spanish army and defeated Moctezuma’s
Aztecs in 1521. Consequently, the indigenous population was in shambles from the
death and wounds of war and widespread disease brought by the Spaniards (Wright,
1992).
In order to solidify his power, Cortes then invited Franciscan missionaries “to
follow the military conquest with a religious one” (Wright, p.145, 1992). This move
towards bolstering Spanish power also set the stage for a merging of Spanish and
Aztec/indigenous cultures/races (Joseph, 2002). In contrast to the English of the
U.S., Spanish colonists viewed intermixing with the indigenous peoples as
instrumental to the attainment of resources and sustenance of their power. Moreover,
the Indian elite also saw intermixing as a means to retain their now threatened socio-
economic power. The success of the religious element of the Spanish invasion
created social space for merging. This locale of merging was also concrete and fixed
336
-- in contrast to the U.S., the land mass occupied by the Spaniards and Indians was
smaller, as opposed to the U.S. where English colonists could continually push
Indians westward. This geography was another factor which helped to facilitate
racial and cultural merging between the Spanish interlopers and indigenous peoples
of Mexico.
In short, although all colonialism can be viewed within the context of a racial
project of white supremacy, Spanish colonialism in Mexico exhibited a more muted
white supremacy, which was enveloped by the desire of the Spaniards and Indian
elite to maintain power. That is, although the Spaniards did retain an ideology of
white superiority and Indian inferiority, their aim to sustain economic and political
power, coupled with the Indian elite’s desire to keep upper class status in New Spain,
mitigated the pragmatic and material power of white supremacy and resulted in the
intermixing of the races. Furthermore, this intermixing was facilitated via
mechanisms of religion and geographical location.
The Rise of Mestizaje

The nature of Spanish colonialism in Mexico set the stage for continued
racial projects in Mexico that were shaped by white supremacy ideology, but resulted
in a far more nuanced racial structure in Mexico, in contrast to the very diametrical
Black-white race relations which emerged in the U.S. Rather, the racial project in
Mexico was one of conflict, but also racial merging and absorption. This is due to
three reasons: (1) religion, (2) small shared land mass, and (3) desire of both groups
for survival and empowerment. Consequently, in contrast to racial formations in the
U.S., in which people of mixed race have historically been marginalized and othered,
337
people of mixed race in Mexico emerged and remain the dominant racial group,
while indigenous Indians continue to occupy the most marginal status in Mexican
society. In Mexico and throughout the Americas, this mixed race identity is known
as “mestizo/a.” Over time, mestizaje has become the nationalist racial project of
Mexico and has comprehensively shaped the Mexican racial order.
In order to retain their power over Mexico, Spaniards intermixed with
indigenous peoples of Mexico, resulting in the creation of a “middle race” –
mestizos. Cultural exchange in Mexico occurred at a significant rate which
comprehensively altered the racial composition of Mexico. Ronald Wright asserts,
many of the lordly families became indistinguishable from the peasants
within a few generations, some assimilated into white society and thereby
changed it; a cultural blending occurred. Creoles (Mexican born whites)
adopted almost as much from the Aztecs as the Aztecs borrowed from them.
They developed a taste for tortillas, chiles, tomatoes, and
chocolate…Preconquest gods survived in Catholic robes. And a distinctively
Mexican aesthetic still lives in vigorous folk art and bodily painted
architecture” (p.157).

Chimalpahin, an Aztec nobleman, gave a first hand account of the changing racial
structure in Mexico:
Women who came from Spain…married men of Mexico, and from there
came the mestizos. Equally, the daughters of some of our most esteemed
princes, as well as some young women of the servant class, were impregnated
by Spaniards and thus more mestizos were born…Some of these keep their
mixed origins a secret and hide the fact that they come from us, the
Natives…Other mestizos, in contrast, do us honour and are proud to have
come from native blood (p.159).

Chimalpahin’s writings allude to the complexities of identity inherent in the
new mestizos. Unlike African Americans of mixed race who were subject to the one
drop rule, rules of hypodescent, and strict social mores which demeaned interracial
338
relationships and their offspring, the mestizos of Mexico retained considerably more
“latitude” in identity formation. The widespread phenomena of intermixing allowed
mestizos to acknowledge both identities. However, other mestizos remained
influenced by the racial project of white supremacy and became complicit in
colonization, denying their Indian roots and participating in the racial oppression of
Indians and darker skinned Mexicans.
After the successful Mexican Revolution in 1821 mestizos experienced a
quick political ascension. Davis contends,
the mestizos became politically dominant over the Spanish and Indian (and
small black) populations. Although the Spanish and other presumably
unmixed whites continue to have considerable wealth and influence, mestizos
– by far the largest population group – hold the balance of power.
In the 19
th
and 20
th
centuries, mestizos were socially elevated to the status of
honorary/quasi whites and concurrent exploitation of indigenous peoples continued
to reify the racial structure.
Mestizaje Today: The Dominance of Mixed Race
In her study of mestizo identity, Linda Alcoff (1995) notes that racial or
cultural identity cannot be taken for granted. She writes, “Part European, part
indigenous, half colonialist aggressor, half colonized oppressed, we have never had
an unproblematic relationship to the questions of culture, identity, race, ethnicity, or
even liberation” (p.257). Alcoff’s words represent the nature of mestizo identity as
an identity of fragmentation and merging between the conqueror and the
339
conquered
53
. It is these new mestizo people who become the chosen ones to lead the
world to a new, peaceful order: Jose Vasconcelos, Mexican philosopher,
envisaged una mexcla de razas afines, una raza de color – la primera raza
sintesis de globo. He called it a cosmic race, la raza cosmica, a fifth race
embracing the four major races of the world. Opposite to the theory of the
pure Aryan…his theory is one of inclusivity (Anzaldua, 1995, p.271).
With such a global racial identity, mestizaje attempts to debunk the Black-white
dichotomy that pervades the American racial landscape and alienates those of mixed
race. David Carrasco succinctly heralds such an ideology as he asserts, “We say ‘no’
to the debilitating provincialisms of the white/black discourse and ‘yes’ to the
potentials of the new mestizaje of democracy…We are the shades!”
The ideology of mestizaje is pervasive, as it dominates and shapes Mexicans’
social, political, economic, and religious life. Yet in spite of Elizondo’s bold
assertion that “the future is mestizo” and Carrasco’s statement that “We are entering
the Brown Millennium,” mestizaje is quite frequently not the unifying racial project
as its proponents present. Mestizaje remains the nationalist racial project of Mexico,
yet this racial project has not seamlessly created a cohesive mestizaje nation. Rather,
the daily lived experiences of mestizo and indigenous peoples exhibit the

53
A compelling “sub-project” of the larger mestizaje racial project is that of mestiozo theology.
Mestizo theology is a relatively new phenomenon, which has as its core the philosophy that Jesus
Christ represents the merging of oppositional identities - God and man, Jew and Galilean. Virgilio
Elizondo is the premier proponent of mestizo theology and argues that “rejected by the world, but
chosen by God….Culturally and linguistically speaking, Jesus was a mestizo. And we dare say that to
those of his time, he must have appeared to be a biological mestizo – the child of a Jewish girl and a
Roman father” (p.79). Furthermore, Our Lady of Guadalupe – the Mexican Virgin Mary - has also
been extensively studied, and it has been proposed that her role is one of reconciliation between the
conqueror (the Spaniards) and the conquered (the indigenous Indians of Latin America), in order to
produce a new mestizo people.

340
complications of racial identity in a country where the majority population is of
mixed race.
While Mexico presents itself as a harmonious mestizo nation, in subtle and
explicit ways, the lingering racial project of white supremacy shapes racial identities
and racialized experiences for both the mestizo majority and the indigenous majority.
Oster (2002) contends that
The official policy is that Mexico is proud of its racial origins. Government
pamphlets, books, films, and museums glorify the historic accomplishments
of the Aztecs, the Mayas, the Zapotecs, the Toltecs, the Olmecs, and other
indigenous groups…Indians are beautiful. Indians are intelligent. Indians
are dignified (p.249).

However, the national project manifests itself differently in everyday social
life. Oster asserts “Pure-blooded Indians – as many as ten million Mexicans – are
treated as social inferiors.” Quite frankly, Indians occupy the lowest social,
economic, and political status in Mexican society, in spite of mestizo ideology’s
assertion that the Mexican nation and its peoples are a harmonious compilation of the
races. To the contrary, race remains a fundamental social axis in Mexican life,
confirming Winant’s argument that race is not a historic relic, even in those nations
where interracial mixing has created more nuanced and fluid racial hierarchies.
Yet for all its faults, in contemporary times, Latin@ writers have drawn upon
the mestiz@ identity to celebrate the diversity of the Latin@ community, and put
forth mestizaje as a means to cross boundaries and create new ideological and
material spaces where oppressed persons can find new forms of empowerment. This
is perhaps no more clear than in Gloria Anzaldua’s (1999) work, in which the
“borderlands” and the “new mestiza” are celebrated as physical, psychological, and
341
social locales where the oppressed can experience liberation. The Latin@
community’s emphasis on mestizaje, and historical flexibility when it comes to racial
identities, is distinct from the U.S.’ focus on the Black – white binary. The historical
and contemporary significance of mestizaje further confirms the reality that neither
multiracial persons or identities are “new,” as the multiracial identity movement in
the U.S. would contend. Furthermore, the Latin@ community’s familiarity with
multiraciality seems to have impacted the way in which the community views
multiracial people today. More specifically, while there is a wealth of research and
literature written about contemporary interracial relationships and marriages
involving African Americans and Asian Pacific Americans, and the mixed race
children who emerge from these relationships, much less has been written about
Latin@s in this regard. I argue that less attention has been paid to Latin@
multiraciality because it is not a new phenomenon and because Latin@s have long
considered themselves mixed race by nature. In turn, there is less fascination with
the implications of the contemporary mixed race identity movement.
Hapa Identity in the Asian Pacific American Community

The meanings, categorizations, and identities attached to mixed race persons
have historically varied dependent on mixed race persons’ ancestry. An examination
of multiraciality with respect to the African American, Latin@, and Asian Pacific
American communities is instructive here. For the African American community,
the one drop rule, in both historic and contemporary times, ensures that most
multiracial persons with Black heritage will identify as Black, rather than biracial or
multiracial. In contrast, the Latin@ community has been strongly influenced by the
342
ideology of mestizaje. Mestizaje conceives of Latin@ peoples as a “raza cosmica,” a
cosmic race, which by its very nature is multiracial. Consequently, the need for an
American oriented biracial identity, does not seem particularly pressing in the
Latin@ community. However, the Asian Pacific American community seems to
substantially depart from African Americans and Latin@s’ understandings of
biraciality and multiracility. Biracial identity, usually in the form of Hapa identity,
has come to be understood as a distinct identity, and even community, among Asian
Pacific Americans (Fulbeck, 2006).
The question then arises, what is distinctive about Asian American
multiraciality which has allowed for the formation of a recognizable Hapa identity,
while a parallel identity cannot be observed within the African American and Latin@
communities? There is no one reason for this difference, and instead, a confluence
of historical factors and contemporary social trends account for the distinctiveness of
Asian American multiraciality. These factors and trends include migration patterns
and population size, cultural differences, contemporary rates of interracial marriages,
and perceptions and stereotypes of Asian Americans.
When compared to Blacks and Latin@s, Asians and Pacific Islanders arrived
later in the continental U.S. and their population was smaller than African Americans
and Latin@s, as it is today (Ng, 1998). The first Blacks arrived in Jamestown in
1619, and Mexican peoples were indigenous to what is now considered the
Southwestern U.S., and thus had early contact with Europeans and Anglo Americans,
contact which intensified as the U.S. pursued Manifest Denise in the 1800s (Kolchin,
2003). In contrast, the first Asian migrants to the U.S. arrived at a later date. In the
343
1850s Chinese laborers arrived in California to work in the gold mines, as well as on
railroads (Qian, Blair, and Ruf, 2001). As a consequence of their longer histories and
more substantial numbers, interracial mixing involving the African American and
Mexican communities occurred earlier than that involving Asian Pacific Americans
(Xie and Goyette, 1997). In turn, while the one drop rule and mestizaje were created
early on to explain and categorize multiracial persons, APAs did not form any
similar construct to explain biraciality and multiraciality, simply because mixed race
persons were not as prominent among APAs, and whites were not compelled to
create a label or ideology to explain APA multiraciality.
Furthermore, evidence also suggests that some whites may have been
particularly opposed to interracial mixing with APAs given the vast cultural
differences between the two groups. For example, in California’s developmental
years, whites most vehemently objected to mixing with the Chinese, given their un-
Americaness, namely their clothing and cultural practices, non-Christian religions,
and Chinese language and dialects. In comparison, it was not unusual for land
seeking whites to intermarry with elite, Mexican landowners. The landowners were
clearly attractive to whites because they held a great deal of power, but also because
their light skin, European ancestry, and knowledge of a Romance language, made
them palatable and tolerable for whites (Almaguer, 1994). Pascoe (1991, p.7) further
notes that there was a gender dynamic which shaped anti-miscegenation laws in the
late nineteenth century and minimized interracial marriages involving Asian Pacific
Americans:
344
the laws were applied most stringently to groups like the Chinese, Japanese,
and Filipinos, those men were thought likely to marry white women. They
were applied least stringently to groups like the Native Americans (who were
inconsistently mentioned in the laws) and Hispanics (who were not
mentioned at all), groups whose women were historically likely to marry
white men.

Therefore, the gendered nature of anti-miscegenation laws, which were based in part
on whites’ desire to control people of color by marrying / intermixing with select
women of color and by preventing men of color from obtaining the loyalties and
labor of white women, specifically worked to minimize interracial mixing with
Asian Pacific Americans moreso than other racial groups.
In a departure from APAs’ early history in the U.S., vast intermarrying
between whites and APAs, has been occurring since the 1960s. In particular, the
passage of the 1965 Immigration Act yielded a large flow of Asian immigration, and
educated Asian immigrants rapidly began to intermarry with white (Kitano and
Daniels, 1988). Today such intermarriages are so common that some Asian ethnic
groups outmarry more than they inmarry, such as Japanese Americans (Alba and
Nee, 2005; Qian, Blair, Ruf, 2001). The sheer numbers of interracial marriages and
relationships between APAs and whites have yielded a large number of children with
one white parent and one APA parent (Khanna, 2004; Xie and Goyette, 1997). In
contrast, interracial relationships and marriages involving Latin@s and African
Americans are substantially less (Qian and Lichter, 2007).
The events of the past and present have thus conspired to facilitate the
formation of a biracial, Hapa identity recognized by the APA community. That is,
the historical and social trends are such that interracial mixing involving APAs is a
345
relatively new phenomenon, as historically, small numbers of Asian and Pacific
Islander immigrants, as well as whites’ aversion to these immigrants, yielded
circumstances that were not conducive to interracial mixing. In turn, multiracial
Asian youth are coming of age during a time period which acknowledges the socially
constructed nature of race and has allowed for more racially fluidity. This has
created the space for multiracial Asian people to claim non-monoracial identities,
such as Hapa. This phenomena is confirmed by researchers such Xie and Goyette,
(1997, p.548) who argue that multiracial Asian identities are rooted in “the growth of
the Asian American population and, concurrently, intermarriages involving Asian
Americans are recent phenomena, in a time when racial attitudes toward minorities
have become more tolerant.” In contrast to the contemporary nature of Asian
American multiraciality, African American multiraciality was already widespread
during slavery, and hypodescent was utilized to define multiracial persons of Black
and white descent so that the existing hierarchy would be upheld. Furthermore,
mestizaje was also constructed early on during Spanish colonization of the Americas.
Stereotyping of Asian Pacific Americans may also contribute to emergence
of Hapa identity. More specifically, APAs are often viewed as pseudo white, model
minorities who are passive, exceptionally intelligent, and work diligently to advance
in U.S. society (Lee, 1996). These purported characteristics are much different from
those accorded African Americans and Latin@s, who are frequently perceived as
minorities unjustifiably looking for “hand outs” from society (Entman and Rojecki,
2001). Therefore, because APAs are typically viewed as being closer to whites than
African Americans or Latin@s and are also more likely to intermarry with whites,
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the existence of Hapa identity may be a concession on the part of whites. That is,
while children from interracial relationships involving Blacks are not allowed to
claim whiteness or any social identity which places them equally close to both their
white and non-white parentage, children from white – APA unions may be regarded
more flexibly and allowed to claim both identities in the form of Hapa because
whiteness and Asianness are perceived as somewhat compatible. Such racial identity
processes among Asian American multiracials appears to be supported by literature
which has argued that biracial children of white and Asian American descent have
racial options when identifying (Saenz, Hwang, Aguirre, Anderson, 1995; Xie and
Goyette, 1997).
Finally, in contrast to Mexican Americans and other Latin@s, Asian
immigrants come to the U.S. from much more homogeneous societies, in which
interracial mixing and multiracial persons are often times looked down upon. One
primary reason for the diminished status of mixed race couples and children is the
association of such persons with military interventions. Research has found that
Asian “war brides” have had the lowest educational and economic attainment when
compared to other women and that Amerasians have typically occupied a marginal
status in Asian countries (Burkhardt, 1983; Saenz, Hwang, and Aguirre, 1994).
Such a history may very well shape APAs’ views of multiracial peoples in the U.S.,
as APAs arrive from cultures and societies which have accorded a particularly
negative distinction to the aberration of multiraciality. However, because there is
vast interracial mixing between whites and APAs in the U.S., creating a substantial
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presence of multiracial APAs, the overwhelmingly negative characterization of
multiraciality has largely ceased, but the distinction remains.
The History of Multiracial Peoples: Present Day Implications
The brief history of multiracial people which I have recounted here, as well
as the different understandings of mixed race identity in the African American,
Latin@, and Asian Pacific American communities, provides the context necessary
for understanding the contemporary identities and experiences of multiracial people
in the U.S. In particular, given the subject of this chapter, I believe a study of the
historical significance of the multiracial experience helps us come to the following
understandings: (1) multiracial persons are a prime example of the fluidity of race,
yet also the constancy of race in U.S. society, (2) the desires to stigmatize and
suppress interracial marriages signifies the U.S.’ historic investment in maintaining
racial boundaries, (3) the overwhelmingly negative characterizations of multiracial
people reflect U.S. society’s value of racial boundaries that perpetuate
monoracialism, (4) changes in governmental classifications of multiracial people
throughout history exemplify the need for white society to control such
classifications in a way that maintains their power and privilege, (5) multiracial
people have at times attempted to create their own social niche and organizations in a
monoracially dominated society, and these efforts have been both problematically
elite and progressive, and (6) various racial groups have come to create their own
understandings of multiraciality dependent on particular historical, social, and
political factors.
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As I proceed to discuss the contemporary, post-Civil Rights literature on
multiracial people, as well as the data I have collected from biracial college students
and the universities which they attend, it will become clear that the historical
experiences of multiracial people very much affect their experiences in the present.
In particular, there are ways in which present day understandings of multiraciality
confirm, yet also diverge from long held beliefs and historical trends. For example,
an examination of multiracial people’s experiences in the post-Civil Rights era, as
well as the literature regarding these experiences, only solidifies the fluidity of race
that can be observed in the early history of the U.S. On the other hand, while the
early history of the U.S. entails white control of the Census, in which categories are
constructed in such a way to maintain white privilege, in the Civil Rights and post-
Civil Rights era, people of color, as well as multiracial people, have sought to use
Census racial categorizations and the analysis of racial data, to their advantage.
In order to understand the changing nature of multiraciality and why
multiraciality appears to be a more prominent issue in the post-Civil Rights era,
corralling great attention from the media and academics alike, in the following
discussion I highlight the trends and events which have made multiraciality relevant
to contemporary ideological and material issues of race. This is followed by a
review and critique of the major research paradigms addressing multiracial identity
and the multiracial experience.
Multiracial People in the Post-Civil Rights Era
It is evident from my previous discussions that multiracial people, and the
concept of multiracial identity, have been important issues in the racial history of the
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U.S., in spite of recent claims to the contrary that multiracial people are “new”
(Morning, 2003). However, the nature and implications of multiracial identity and
multiracial persons’ presence in a still monoracially dominated society, has indeed
changed, becoming stronger and more pervasive in the post-Civil Rights era
(Rockquemore, 2002). The increasing salience of the multiracial experience is
rooted in a variety of social, legislative, political, demographic, cultural, and
ideological changes which have occurred in the U.S. over the past four and a half
decades.
First, the Civil Rights movement attacked Jim Crow laws, and paved the way
for greater integration and interaction between the races. Of particular importance
here is the case of Loving v. Virginia, which resulted in the dismantling of anti-
miscegenation laws (Lemire, 2002). In 1967 the Supreme Court heard the case of
Mildred and Richard Loving, a Black woman and white man, who had been
convicted in Virginia for violating the state’s anti-miscegenation laws. The court
ruled in favor of the Lovings and legislation against interracial marriages met its
demise (Root, 1996; Root, 2003; Sollors, 2000). These Civil Rights induced changes
slowly began to lead to a greater number of interracial relationships (DaCosta, 2003).
Today, significant numbers of Americans marry outside their racial groups,
reflecting increasing social approval of interracial relationships:
Percentage Marrying Outside of Racial Group in 2000
Foreign-born U.S.-Born
Asian-Americans 27.2% 54.9%
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Hispanic 8.3% 31.3%

African-Americans 15.7% 10.4%

American Indian 66.3% 58.3%

White 8.3% 4.3%

(Qian and Lichter, 2007)
In addition to legal and demographic changes in the American racial
landscape, significant alterations in ideologies and theories of race have paved the
way for multiracial identity formations. In concert with the destruction of Jim Crow
and the Loving decision, the Civil Rights movement also provided much of the
ideological preparation necessary for the emergence of multiracial identity. More
specifically, the Civil Rights movement trumpeted the benefits and morality of racial
integration and equality, encouraging Americans to view one another as people,
rather than as races with predetermined characteristics (Williams, 2003).
Furthermore, social science literature on race has changed, recognizing the socially
constructed nature of race. Instead of biological views of race, racial identity came
to be understood as a social phenomenon shaped and circumscribed by cultural,
political, and economic forces (Bonilla Silva, 2003; Ferrante and Brown, 1998;
Korgen, 1998; Spickard, 2003; Winant, 2001). Thus, while biological
conceptualizations of race rendered mixed race identity as an anomaly and abnormal,
new understandings of race, in which boundaries are malleable, have given credence
to the multiracial experience and identity.
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Finally, one cannot ignore the influence and impact of popular culture’s
enthusiasm for multiracial identity. In the past several years, the sports and
entertainment industry has highlighted the mixed race heritage of several celebrities,
including Tiger Woods, Halle Berry, Mariah Carey, Alicia Keys, Dean Cain, Jessica
Alba, Derek Jeter, and Keanu Reeves (Haizlip, 2004; Jones, 2000; Williams-León
and Nakashima, 2001). Although the factors driving this popularity can and should
be questioned (i.e., is the media simply infatuated with the exoticism of mixed race
peoples?), and not all of these persons assert multiracial identities, it is clear that
media attention has helped to validate the ideas that multiracial people often have
unique experiences and identities that are different from people with monoracial
identities. Moreover, while some may consider pop culture as “fluff,” hence having
little “real” influence on society, the reality is that U.S. society is consumed by an
infatuation with celebrities and their lives. Consequently, the fact that Tiger Woods
and other celebrities have very publicly embraced his multiraciality has indeed
contributed to the opening of social spaces allowing for the emergence of a post-
Civil Rights multiracial identity.
As a consequence of the aforementioned factors, more and more Americans
have been identifying in multiracial terms. According to data from the 2000 Census,
“7.3 million or 2.6 percent” of respondents “reported more than one race” (Jones,
2005, p.1). This population is disproportionately concentrated among younger age
groups. More specifically, 26.3% of the two or more races population is between
the ages of 18 – 34 versus 23.7% for the total population. These age based
discrepancies are larger with younger persons. 15.5% of the two or more races
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population are between 10 and 17, compared to 11.5% of the general population, and
25.2% of the two or more races population is under age 10, in contrast to 14.1% of
the total population. The median age for the two or more races population is 23.4
(Jones, 2005). Thus, it is evident that claiming multiracial identity is a youth
oriented trend, and as such, it has significant implications for the future of race in the
U.S.
In light of the greater number of people who have chosen to identify
multiracially in the post-Civil Rights era, researchers have paid an increasing amount
of attention to multiracial experiences and identity formations. This body of research
has yielded several paradigms, and each of these paradigms can be directly
connected to political movements and ideologies of race. In the following
discussion, I summarize each research approach, and also offer a critique of the
various literatures on multiracial identity.
Literature Review
A Cultural Nationalist Approach to Multiracial Identity
According to Brunsma (2005, p.1132), the first stage of multiracial identity
research focused on “how mixed-race individuals could (and should) develop a
positive racial identity (i.e., not White) that largely focused around the flourishing of
the pride movements of the late 1960s and 1970s.” In light of Brusma’s statement, I
term this paradigm the cultural nationalist approach to multiracial identity. Within
this approach Black pride literature of the period is of particular importance, as it
emphasized the development of a positive Black identity and solidarity with the
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larger Black community. Concomitantly, multiracial people with Black ancestry
were encouraged to identify as Black:
…the emphasis on black consciousness and pride resulted in literature
reflecting the changing conceptions of black identity. Attention was paid to
the psychological need by Blacks to avoid internalizing a sense of inferiority
which had been an historical burden. This resulted in a transformation of the
negative self-perceptions of Blacks from that of a racially subjugated status to
being empowered to act to abolish discriminatory patterns to which they had
been subjected. Again, based on society's "one drop" theory, the child from
the bi-racial, black/white union was, with few exceptions, considered black
(Bowles, 1993, p.420).

Increasingly, the (mono)racial pride and consciousness of which Bowles
speaks, has been challenged by the multiracial movement, as both activists and
academics have questioned the wisdom of continuing to utilize the one drop rule,
even in the name of racial solidarity (Zack, 2005). Given these challenges, and the
drastic ways in which the political landscape has changed in the post-Civil Rights
era, with calls for racial empowerment diminished, one might think that the cultural
nationalist interpretation of multiracial identity would at this moment, be invalidated
and irrelevant. Yet the cultural nationalist sentiments of the sixties and the seventies,
and the corollary evaluation of mixed race people, can still be observed in
contemporary research on multiracial identity. While researchers avoid stating that
multiracial people “should” identify as people of color, many write as if this is the
preferable identity formation in which to engage. For example, in The New
Multiracialism, Mary Texeira (2003, p.26) recounts her own Louisiana family’s
experience with multiraciality and changing racial designations:
In another place and time, my siblings and I might have chosen to call
ourselves ‘Creole’ like many in our extended family. However, we moved to
Watts, California, in the 1960s and, with one exception, have rejected every
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label except black or African American based on our belief that the term
Creole would set us apart from other African Americans in our circle.
However, some in my immediate and extended family do not wish to be
associated with either term, including my own brother, who is phenotypically
white. He moved back to Louisiana in his teenage years and is completely
white identified, maintaining…minimal contact with…his family.

Texeira goes on to state that families endure “anguish” when members develop and
assert identities as his brother does. It is thus evident that Texeira views her
brother’s identity as a white person as highly problematic, while the rest of the
family’s identification as Black, African American, or even Creole is cast in a
relatively positive light. The fact that Texeira is troubled by her brother’s claims to
whiteness is also glaringly illustrated by her author’s note, which reads: “I dedicate
this chapter with love to my brother Aaron, whose light, like that of so many others’,
has been dimmed by the specter of race” (2003, p.21). Texeira’s deeply personal and
impassioned story reveals the continued influence of cultural nationalist and race
pride theories on views of multiracial identity. That is, Texeira clearly finds merit in
multiracial people identifying as people of color, but not as whites. The latter is
spoken of as if it is unhealthy for both the individual and the community of color. In
addition to viewpoints such as Texeira’s, other researchers have contended that the
adoption of a multiracial identity is merely a move to “whiten” oneself and
transition into a higher racial status away from communities of color (Spencer, 1997;
Spickard, 2003). Such works echo those of the sixties and seventies, with their
suggestion that a monoracial, non-white identity is the manifestation of a positive
view of minority peoples and progressive racial consciousness, while any efforts to
identify as white are perceived as indicative of self-hatred.
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While many may view the first school of research on multiracial identity,
which urges multiracial people to adopt non-white identities and profess solidarity
with their non-white brethren, as outdated and overly nationalistic, I argue that it
helps us to view identity as a socially constructed, political experience which
transcends the individual. That is, this research suggests that although an individual
with Black and white parentage, or any other non-white / white parentage for that
matter, may feel compelled to identify as biracial or even as white, this individual
must and should come to the understanding that social justice requires identification
with a Black identity. Multiracial people are asked to recognize that their identity is
not only their domain, but the domain of larger communities and society, to which
multiracial people have a responsibility. These sorts of references to social justice
and responsibility, and the paradigm’s connection to cultural nationalism, illuminates
the political nature of racial identity, in which identity formations are influenced by,
rather than separate from, political ideologies and trends. Such a viewpoint is often
lacking in contemporary literature on racial identity, which tends to emphasize
identity as the sole dominion of the individual, as if identities develop in a vacuum.
Moreover, there are potential benefits of identifying with a community of color.
That is, in contrast to the white community, communities of color, in particular
African Americans, have historically been more accepting of multiracial people
(Davis, 2001). Hence, I hardly think it is unjustifiable to suggest that multiracial
persons might be better suited to minority communities and minority identities for
both ideological and political reasons, as well as practical ones.
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On the other hand, I do believe this culturally nationalistic school of research
can and should be faulted for its determinism – for its suggestion that as a multiracial
person, you are “either in or out,” and if you choose “out,” that you are somehow
being racially disloyal. By neglecting multiracial people’s lived experiences, in
which they may not want to discard identifying with white parents who they love,
such a hardline approach has the potential to alienate mixed race people, rather than
enfold them into a welcoming community. Thus, well intentioned nationalism may
turn into dogma that diminishes communities of color capacity to engage in
progressive racial politics, which builds, rather than burns, racial bridges.
In my analysis of interview data I capitalize on the assets offered by cultural
nationalist conceptualizations of multiracial identity, and I also seek to avoid their
drawbacks. In particular, in order to avoid the a-political and a-historical nature of
recent writings on biracial identity, I build upon cultural nationalist views of
multiracial identity by framing biracial identity in explicitly political terms. That is,
I do not presume that biracial students simply choose their identities on their own, so
to speak. Rather, I highlight the ways in which biracial students formulate their
identities in light of campus politics and national politics. Furthermore, I examine
the problems which arise when multiracial persons do not have a relationship, or
have a very weak relationship, with communities of color. Such problems include a
disconnection from social justice issues and suggest that cultural nationalist theories
of multiracial identity were correct in their contention that the inclusion of
multiracial people in communities of color served a larger social purpose of benefit
to subjugated minorities. Finally, I also depart from cultural nationalist approaches
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to multiracial identity, by illuminating the ways in which the African American,
Latin@, and Asian Pacific American communities of color, as well as their
institutional representatives, can be complicit in the marginalization of multiracial
students. Bogged down by deterministic understandings of race and racial identity,
racial minority entities on campus often fail to keep abreast of changing racial
formations among their student body.
The “Personal and Positive” View of Multiracial Identity
The second multiracial paradigm has focused on (1) identity development
models designed to move multiracial individuals toward a “positive” identity which
recognizes and validates the racial identities of both parents, and (2)
autobiographical and biographical accounts of multiracial people’s lived experiences.
Furthermore, a strong emphasis on the experiences of multiracial children is apparent
in this literature. This body of research has suggested that the “natural” and best
state of affairs for multiracial persons is that in which all of their racial backgrounds
are embraced and celebrated. Moreover, these researchers and writers have taken a
heavily psychological and individualistic approach to multiracial identity and
multiracial experiences. Thus, I term this body of research the personal and positive
approach to multiracial identity. The personal and positive literature is clearly
connected to the multiracial identity movement which fought for the addition of a
multiracial category to the Census. More specifically, the research and movement
have both emphasized multiracial people’s need and right to identify in non-
monoracial terms. In making their case, researchers and activists have drawn heavily
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on the personal accounts of multiracial people, in particular, children, who have
struggled to fit in to a monoracially organized world.
Maria Root’s work on multiracial identity development is one of the most
prominent and telling examples of this research paradigm. Root’s writings
constantly reiterate positive conceptualizations of multiraciality, with titles ranging
from Love’s Revolution: Racial Intermarriage (2001), to Bill of Rights for Racially
Mixed People
54
(1994), which has become a rallying cry for multiracial
organizations. In her work Five Mixed Race Identities, Root (2003, p.13 – 15)
presents five identities which mixed race people can assume:
1. Accept the identity society assigns.
2. Choose a single identity.
3. Choose a mixed identity.
4. Choose a new race identity.
5. Choose a white identity.

While Root seemingly attempts to critically analyze each identity formation, it is
ultimately clear that she does not think much of identities one or two. With respect
to accepting “the identity society assigns,” Root (2003, p.14) contends that the one

54
I HAVE THE RIGHT...
Not to justify my existence in this world.
Not to keep the races separate within me.
Not to justify my ethnic legitimacy.
Not to be responsible for people’s discomfort with my physical or ethnic ambiguity.
I HAVE THE RIGHT...
To identify myself differently than strangers expect me to identify.
To identify myself differently than how my parents identify me.
To identify myself differently than my brothers and sisters.
To identify myself differently in different situations.
I HAVE THE RIGHT...
To create a vocabulary to communicate about being multiracial or multiethnic.
To change my identity over my lifetime--and more than once.
To have loyalties and identification with more than one group of people.
To freely choose whom I befriend and love.
(Root, 1994)

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drop rule “has been internalized so that all groups now have been co-opted to protect
‘whiteness’ in the guise of solidarity.” This statement is completely dismissive of
the argument that it is people of color who have co-opted the one drop rule in order
to maintain solidarity and accumulate power and resources. One must wonder if
Root would proceed to assert that Frederick Douglas and W.E.B. Du Bois were
unwittingly “co-opted to protect ‘whiteness’” because they identified as Black in
spite of their multiracial heritage. Root then goes on to make several cautionary
statements regarding the single identity choice, asserting “actively choosing a
monoracial or monoethnic identity does not guarantee that one will be spared racial
authenticity tests or ‘hazing’” and “Sometimes the active choice of a single identity
of a minority group reflected family dysfunction.” While Root also mentions the
drawbacks of the mixed race identity, which include similar forms of “hazing and
authenticity tests,” she more so emphasizes the positive aspects of mixed race
identity, such as being loved by parents of different races and the purported ability to
“transcend color.”
Root’s fondness for positive, and ultimately progressive, characterizations of
multiracial identity is shared by numerous other researchers, so much so that this
interpretation of multiraciality dominates the existing literature on the subject. Other
researchers who have adopted this approach include Naomi Zack and Reginald
Daniel, who argue that “citizens who are black and white have the right to identify
themselves racially”, and multiracial identity “challenge [s] the dichotomization of
blackness and whiteness that originates in Eurocentric thinking” (2001, p.3).
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In addition to generally positive portrayals of multiracial people and
multiracial identity, the second school of research on multiracial identity is also
heavily biographical, with entire books focused on giving “voice” to multiracial
peoples, as well as their families. Books in this realm are written by multiracial
people themselves and attempt to illuminate the struggles and resilience of
multiracial people. Works that fall into this category include Frazier’s (2003) Check
All That Apply: Finding Wholeness as a Multiracial Person, which attempts a
spiritual take on the multiracial experience, Mixed: My Life in Black and White, in
which comedic writer Angela Nissel (2006) recounts her experiences as the child of
a white father and Black Panther mother, and What Are You?: Voices of Mixed-Race
Young People and Half and Half: Writers on Growing Up Biracial and Bicultural,
both of which are collections of personal essays and interviews of multiracial people.
While such literature may be valuable for it allows us to listen to the organic voices
of multiracial people, it is often overly simplistic and lacking theoretical and
analytical depth. There is a tendency for these works to have recurring themes which
over-generalize the mixed race experience, including what I would term the “I feel
like I don’t fit in” and “I can understand people of different races” themes. I am not
denying that there is merit to these themes, rather I find it problematic that these
messages are conveyed with uncritical frequency. Authors seem to have no problem
portraying themselves or others as tragic mulattoes or “rainbow people” who will
help heal the world’s racial problems. In turn, these works, while entertaining, lack
critical historical and political analysis of the nature and implications of multiracial
identity, instead choosing to given credence to individuals’ views of race.
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Another large literature group which falls under the personal and positive
paradigm is literature which exclusively focuses on interracial families and the
children they raise. Works in this area tend to be heavily psychological and
instructional in nature. Examples include Does Anybody Else Look Like Me?: A
Parent's Guide to Raising Multiracial Children by Donna Jackson Nakazawa (2004),
and I'm Chocolate, You're Vanilla: Raising Healthy Black and Biracial Children in a
Race-Conscious World by Marguerite Wright (2000). The vast array of books which
address the task of raising mixed race children reflects the increasing numbers of
interracial couples in the U.S., as well as increasing desires among these couples to
raise their children with multiracial identities. While parents of mixed race children
may find these books useful, particularly white parents who have little experience
dealing with race issues, they are problematic for many of the same reasons that
autobiographies, biographies, and generally positive works on mixed race are
problematic – they exhibit a-historicism, a-structuralism, and an absence of political
awareness.
Compellingly, the literature on mixed race couples and their children echoes
the sentiments of assimilationist and colorblind literature, which conceive of
interracial marriage as racial progress and a sign of the declining importance of race.
For example, in the seminal work Assimilation in American Life, Milton Gordon
(2002) presents marital assimilation as a groundbreaking stage in the assimilation
process, as it purportedly blends different cultures together. Today, colorblindness
ideology also highlights interracial marriages as a sign that the U.S. has truly become
a “melting pot.” Ward Connerly, one of the most prominent proponents of
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colorblindness, enjoys highlighting the interracial relationships which have
contributed to his multiracial background and in turn, arguing that race is an arbitrary
fallacy (Connerly, 2002).
Research conducted under the personal and positive paradigm is valuable for
the legitimacy that it has endowed upon multiracial people’s experiences, a sense of
legitimacy which was lacking from the cultural nationalist view of multiracial
identity. Their work rightfully demands that multiracial people’s experiences be
recognized and studied, just as ethnic studies pushed academia to validate the
experiences of African Americans, Chican@s/Latin@s, Asian Pacific Americans,
and Native Americans. They point out the potential uniqueness of the multiracial
experience, in which mixed race persons may traverse and cross deeply inscribed
racial boundaries, sometimes seen, sometimes unseen, and hence challenge long held
beliefs about race, including the notion that all persons belong to one racial group,
and one group only. Moreover, this body of literature also illuminates the lived
experiences of mixed race people, which may include not being accepted by one’s
family or proving one’s racial loyalty to peers at school. It has shown that
multiracial people can face great social and personal difficulties in a society that does
not provide space for the recognition of multiraciality, and instead clings to
monoraciality.
However, in spite of the contributions of literature on positive multiracial
identity development, this literature is plagued by significant problems, most
importantly the minimal attention paid to historical issues and social structure. In
their zeal to advocate for multiracial people, researchers have often neglected to
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contextualize the mixed race experience and connect it the larger history of race in
the U.S. For example, in this literature, it is often argued that the increasing presence
of multiracial people in the U.S. signals the breaking down of racial boundaries and
perhaps, the ultimate demise of racism. These kinds of statements ignore two
important historical facts: (1) multiracial people have always existed in the U.S.,
including during times of great racial division, such as the era of slavery, and (2) in
spite of their existence, and at times, official recognition, such as when the
government utilized a mulatto category in the Census, multiracial people have
historically functioned as a buffer group between whites and non-whites (Spencer,
2000).
Furthermore, research which adopts this paradigm tends to neglect and
diminish the importance of larger social, institutional, and structural issues of race.
In this literature it is as if multiracial people can do no wrong, that their claims to
identify as they wish should be embraced and encouraged regardless of how ill-
informed they are regarding their connection to larger racial dynamics. For example,
in Root’s Bill of Rights for Racially Mixed People, the following statements are
included: “I have the right…To change my identity over my lifetime--and more than
once...To have loyalties and identification with more than one group of people.”
While I do not disagree with these statements – they are fair statements of what
should be individuals’ rights, what I find problematic is that excessive individualism
seems to characterize much of the work in the personal and positive paradigm. It is
not unusual to find that writers may discuss their right and ability to change their
racial identities in different situations and over time, while never acknowledging that
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other people do not have the same choice, as they are constrained by their phenotype,
and that these personal “choices” may have a social cost. What of the man of
Chinese and white heritage who decides to adopt a white identity? Certainly it is his
“right” to do so, but I believe it is unwise to not consider the social ramifications,
one being that this man may become part of a larger trend in which people view
Asian Americans as almost white or pseudo-white, a perception which inevitably
hurts the Asian American community, as they are distanced from their Latin@ and
African American counterparts and their socio-economic struggles are denied.
In Part II of this dissertation, I seek to draw upon the best parts of the
personal and positive approach to multiracial identity by spending substantial time
illuminating the lived experiences of biracial students, such as the ways in which
they can feel ostracized by monoracially based programming, as well as the overall
racial segregation, of a university. However, I do not simply end the story here, as
biographies of mixed race often do. Instead, I seek to tell the “other side of the
story,” by deconstructing how and why institutions of higher education are often
organized along monoracial lines, as well as how and why universities deploy
particular racial projects, such as multiculturalism. In doing so, I avoid the
demonizing of institutions and society in which the personal and positive approach
often engages. Instead, I am able to illustrate the ways in which biracial students and
institutions of higher education influence one another, shaping beliefs and practices
about race.

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The Personal and Positive Paradigm’s Connection to Multiracial
Identity Politics

The personal and positive paradigm for understanding mixed race identity
and experiences is significant not only because it is the most popular of literatures on
the subject, but because it is integrally tied to recent political organizing and
mobilizing around multiracial issues. While multiracial oriented organizations began
to grow during the 1980s, these organizations were largely social in nature and
focused on providing support for interracial couples and their families. Examples of
such organizations include the Biracial Family Network, established in 1980 by a
group of women living in Chicago who were mothers to biracial and transracially
adopted children (Brown and Douglass, 2003). Later established organizations
specifically focused on the concerns and needs of multiracial people. Some of these
organizations have focused on specific racial groups, while others have broadly
included all multiracial groups. For example, the Mavin Foundation addresses the
purported needs and concerns of all multiracial people, while Hapa Issues Forum
focuses on the Asian American mixed race experience in particular. Such
organizations marked the beginning of the mobilization of multiracial identity in the
post-Civil Rights era, and “the process of transforming a personal identity of
marginality and exclusion into a politically recognizable identity” (Williams-Leon,
2003, p.164).
Ultimately, mixed race organizations reached their height of political activity
in the debate over the addition of a multiracial category to the 2000 Census. These
organizations sought to alter Directive 15, which
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was promulgated in 1977 in an effort to standardize race classifications and
definitions for all federal programs that collect or use race data. Data
collected in accordance with these racial and ethnic standards serve vital
federal purposes and state and local government interests as well as the
interests of private organizations and individuals (Payson, 1996, p.1235).

According to the Directive, “people must be categorized into one of the
following categories: American Indian or Alaskan Native, Asian or Pacific Islander,
Hispanic, White, or Black.” The nature and implications of the debate over whether
to add a multiracial category to the Census provides a great deal of insight into
contemporary racial politics and the challenges/problems presented by an organized
group of multiracial people seeking recognition from the state. More specifically, I
argue that the multiracial identity movement tended to manifest the problematic a-
historicism and a-structuralism of the personal and positive literature on mixed race
identity.
As justification for the addition of a multiracial category, organizations relied
on one of three arguments or a confluence of the three – (1) a multiracial category
would help to validate multiracial children and increase their self esteem, (2) a
multiracial category would help to provide a more accurate picture of the multiracial
population in the U.S. and improve the healthcare available for multiracial people,
(3) a multiracial category would allow people their right to identify as more than one
race (Root, 2003; Wright, 1994; Zack, 1993). Arguments one and three reflect the
themes of the personal and positive paradigm, which are faulty for assuming a
largely psychological and individualistic view of racial identity. In putting forth
these arguments, multiracial activists essentially discarded and dismissed legitimate
Civil Rights concerns expressed by minority communities. That is, minority groups
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such as the NAACP were alarmed by the prospect of a large number of African
Americans arbitrarily marking “multiracial” when they had lived their lives as
African Americans and previously identified as such. This type of racial flight,
argued the NAACP, would make it more difficult to enforce Civil Rights legislation
and to ascertain the true socio-economic needs of the Black community. Yet
multiracial activist groups were disturbingly unconcerned about the potential damage
a multiracial category could do to the maintenance and enforcement of Civil Rights
legislation (Spencer, 2003). They seemed to believe that any social costs were
acceptable in the pursuit and attainment of a multiracial category.
The unabashed pursuit of a multiracial category and disregard for damages
done to Civil Rights and minority communities reached new heights when a key
player in the multiracial movement – Project RACE and its leader Susan Graham –
allied itself with the ultra conservative Newt Gingrich. Hence, much of the
multiracial identity movement was co-opted by conservatives, interested in the
multiracial category because it represented a pathway to the wholesale elimination of
racial categories in the public sphere. The conservative influence over the
multiracial movement is compellingly illustrated by an editorial written by Charles
Byrd (1998),
maintainer of Interracial Voice, a web site that fancies itself the philosophical
voice of conscience of the global multiracial movement, frantically advised
his readers that in support of a stand-alone multiracial category, they should
‘Check White!, Check Anything But Black!, Check Every Box on the Form!,
Don’t Return a Census Form At All!, Check Hispanic!, Check American
Indian! (Spencer, 2003, p.102).

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Byrd’s rant and his willingness to engage with neo-conservative racial politics is not
a phenomenon isolated to the debate leading up to the 2000 Census. In a recent
perusal of Project RACE and Interracial Voice’s websites (accessed March, 2007), it
is abundantly clear that their neo-conservative influenced approach to understanding
racial identity has not subsided. Their a-historical and nearly hysteric rhetoric is
illustrated by the following statements:
• We resisted the notion posited by the socialist wing of what became
known as the multiracial movement that ‘mixed’ individuals are
nothing more than the property of their ‘parent groups’ with each
minority community still being able to soak up the numbers of its own
mixed subset. As God gave us all a modicum of free-will, surely that
free-will applies towards not wanting our ‘racial data’ tabulated
according to the whims of those who seek to maintain accrued
political power by doing so. Additionally, that free-will surely applies
to working toward the day when no one should be obliged by any
governmental agency to check race and ethnicity boxes (Charles
Byrd, Interracial Voice).
• What shocked me was when I heard Obama on CBS's 60 Minutes
saying that he considers himself to be black because that is what
people see when they look at him. That this man would allow other
people to define him is...well, it's just not what I expected. Most
people know someone who is "black," but looks "white" and someone
who is "white," but looks "black." I am most impressed by those who
don't allow other people to define them. That is what I would expect
from a presidential candidate. It's taking leadership of your personal
identity (Susan Graham, Project RACE).

These comments illustrate one of the multiracial movement’s / positive and personal
paradigm’s greatest problems – their claim to anti-racism yet simultaneous support
for ideologies and practices which may in fact be racist themselves. Byrd’s
comments, for instance, reject the government’s role in collecting race data. Yet
particularly since the passage of Civil Rights legislation, this race data is necessary
to track Civil Rights violations (Williams, 2006). The elimination of race data might
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very well open the door for an increase in violations such as discrimination in the job
market and racial profiling. Moreover, Graham’s attack on Obama’s identity
“choice” is also problematic for its reliance on an ideology of racial individualism.
That is, instead of considering and addressing the historical and social factors, such
as the Black community’s historical openness to embracing mixed race children and
whites’ rejection of these children, which help to explain why people view Obama as
Black, and why Obama himself identifies as Black, Graham seems to view the issue
of racial identity a-historically.
In light of the key role multiracial organizations have played in inserting the
issue of multiracial identity into the contemporary political discourse on race, it is
necessary to consider whether or not these organizations truly represent the
multiracial population. When one reviews the historical accounts of the 2000 Census
debate, it becomes clear that organizations such as Project RACE in all likelihood
did not represent a large constituency, but rather a smaller group of individuals
interested in and invested in attaining a multiracial category. Now simply because
their constituency was small does not necessarily invalidate their claims that they
should be recognized by the government. But it does raise questions about the
significance of a government sanctioned multiracial identity for the population at
large. That is, does the average person of multiracial descent, who is not a member
of any organization, actually care about being able to mark “multiracial” on
government forms? Does the average person of multiracial descent subscribe to the
neo-conservative and individualistic views of race put forth by the likes of Susan
Graham and Charles Byrd? The data presented and analyzed in Part II illustrates that
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many multiracial youth, particularly those who have been privy to institutional
settings in which race is openly discussed, have much more progressive and complex
views of multiracial identity than those that were voiced during the 2000 Census
debate. Furthermore, it is precisely because of their saviness when it comes to issues
of race, that their political development is atypical.
The Historical and Socio-Political View of Multiracial Identity
Finally, the last school of research has moved away from the determinism of
the first two groups of literature, instead choosing to examine the many different
ways in which multiracial persons may come to form their identities. In particular,
this research has attempted to move away from stating or implying that a certain type
of identity – monoracial, multiracial, etc. – is “best” or preferable for multiracial
people. Instead, this school of literature suggests that mixed race persons may
assume a variety of identities and take different paths as they develop their different
identities. These works also take a stronger historical and political view of
multiraciality. Moreover, a growing subset of this research actually heavily criticizes
the multiracial movement for failing to be anti-racist and for being a-historical. In
the following discussion, I refer to this body of research as the historical and
sociopolitical paradigm.
The first segment of this literature takes a historical approach to studying
mixed race identity and persons. Debunking the idea that multiraciality is a new
phenomenon, these works track the changing dynamics of multiraciality throughout
U.S. history. Morning’s work is a prime example here, as she examines a wide range
of topics, including the counting of multiracial people in Censuses from the years
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1790-1990, the categorizations utilized by these censuses (i.e., mulatto, quadroon,
octoroon, etc.), instructions given to Census-takers on how to determine who should
be assigned to multiracial categories, and the different measures constructed for
mixed bloods versus mulattoes. While some writers in the other research schools do
include historical discussions of mixed race in their works, their discussions are
limited and often superficial. Moreover, there is a tendency to look at the past as a
period that did not allow for multiracial identity, while the present does. Such a
perception thus bolsters the idea that multiraciality is a progressive phenomenon,
both temporally and ideologically. However, work such as that produced by
Morning critically, and relatively neutrally, examines the nature of mixed race over
time. It does not necessarily portray multiracial identity as a positive one, rather
focusing on multiracial identity’s underpinnings.
In concert with a historical analysis of multiraciality, researchers within this
paradigm study the larger political dynamics of mixed race identity, including the
processes of organization and mobilization which impelled the movement that
sought the addition of a multiracial category to the U.S. Census. DaCosta (2003,
p.68-69) takes a compelling approach to the politics of multiraciality and
government classifications, moving to counter two common assumptions about the
organization of mixed race people:
On the one hand, some activists and scholars treat multiracials as though they
are a group constituted as such: conscious of itself, unified, but one that has
not received social recognition. The other tendency treats multiracials as
though they are not a group at all – a statistical population, completely
individualized and unaware of itself – and thus not worthy of social
classification. What both evaluations obscure is that struggles over public
recognition, of which the battle over official classification is a prime
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example, are fundamental means through which groups make themselves –
by getting the state, that ultimate symbolic authority, to recognize and, in so
doing help to create, its existence.

Through DaCosta’s examination of the politicization of multiracial identity, she
manages to avoid the ideological and dogmatic viewpoints of cultural nationalist and
progressive conceptualizations of multiracial identity. That is, she moves beyond
framing multiracial identity as an individual matter, in which failure to reject a
multiracial identity in favor of a non-white identity is read as internalized racial
hatred or failure to adopt a multiracial identity is viewed as an unenlightened choice.
Rather, DaCosta is rightfully concerned with the relationship between multiracial
persons and the state, and the manner in which the state can assist with bringing a
multiracial racial group into existence.
Also working from a socio-political viewpoint, Williams (2006) analyzes the
mobilization of the mixed race movement, arguing that “the multiracial movement
could not have happened, nor could it have taken the forms it has, had it not been for
the successes and failures of the civil rights movement” (p.85). For example, the
multiracial movement has framed multiracial identity as a matter of civil rights, and
they have drawn on arguments and rhetoric that is clearly modeled after ideologies
developed and put forth by the Civil Rights movement. Although she is taking a
different approach than DaCosta, Williams’ presentation of research and overall
argument similarly gives us a broader understanding of multiracial identity beyond
the individual and departs from typical understandings of the relationship between
the Civil Rights movement and multiracial movement, a relationship which is either
portrayed as a positive one in which both movements have the same ends (this is the
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portrayal propagated by most multiracial activists) or as a negative one in which
multiracialists are threatening the achievements of the Civil Rights movement (the
portrayal favored by leaders of traditional Civil Rights organizations). Instead,
Williams looks at points of convergence and divergence between the two
movements, but avoids pure judgment on their relationship.
The second segment of this literature includes an analysis of multiracial
identity and the multiracial experience, which does not include a value judgment
being placed on the formation and assertion of multiracial identity. Researchers
within this literature offer a more complicated view of multiracial identity
formations, one which is more adequately representative of people’s lived
experiences. For example, in Pollock’s (2004, p.30) work with multiracial high
school students in California, she found that
youth strategically employed simple ‘race’ categories to describe themselves
and inequality orders, even as they regularly challenged these very labels’
accuracy. In so ‘bending’ race categories, these youth modeled a practical
and theoretical strategy crucial for dealing thoughtfully with race in 21st
century America.

That is, students used conventional racial categories when they spoke about racial
inequalities, particularly when in conversation with adults. However, when off-
handedly discussing race among themselves, students used conventional racial
categories, while also questioning them. Furthermore, Pollock (p.33) discovered that
multiracial students adapted their identities to different situations, writing “Indeed,
self-described ‘mixed’ Columbus youth became single-race-group members in
school, even as they negotiated so becoming, every time they described themselves
or others in simple racial terms.” Pollock’s ethnographic study fills an important gap
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in the literature on multiracial identity in two key ways. First, through listening to
her pool of California students, she is able to observe the ways in which identity can
be situational and language about one’s identity can be utilized to advance specific
politics. This leads to her second contribution – the portrayal of multiracial people,
particularly young multiracial people, as savvy, political, and unrestrained by the
limitations of adult thinking about race. In fact, Pollock’s subjects, with their keen
observations, seem more in touch with the nuances and reality of the mixed race
experience than the “multiracial activists” involved in the debate over the 2000
Census and their “Civil Rights oriented” opponents.
Finally, a third segment of this last research school entails literature which is
explicitly and aggressively critical of the multiracial movement, and in particular, its
fight for the addition of a multiracial category to the 2000 Census. In several ways
researchers who adopt this approach are reminiscent of those who take a cultural
nationalist approach to mixed race identity, as they both question multiracial
people’s commitment to communities of color and the concerns of these
communities. Jon Spencer and Rainer Spencer are two of the most prominent critics
of the movement. In his book The New Colored People, Jon Spencer (2000)
questions the veracity of the multiracial movement’s claims to anti-racism. With
countries such as South Africa as a point of reference, Spencer suggests that there is
wealth of evidence which indicates that the addition of a multiracial category and
identity to the American landscape will in fact only create a larger racial hierarchy
with mixed race people becoming a buffer group between whites and non-whites.
Rainer Spencer (2003) also heavily critiques the movement’s activism during the
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2000 Census debate, finding validity in Civil Rights organizations’ claims that the
multiracialists are not anti-racist. For example, Spencer points to Project RACE’s
alliance with the neo-conservative Newt Gingrich as evidence of the movement’s
self indulgence and willingness to pursue their quest for a multiracial category at all
costs – even if it meant damage to the civil rights of people of color.
The historical and socio-political approach to studying multiracial identity is
the most compelling of the three paradigms due to its rigor and critical eye. With the
exception of the last segment of the historical and socio-political paradigm, which
heavily criticizes the multicultural movement, this paradigm tends to avoid the
dogmatism of the cultural nationalist and positive and personal approaches to
studying multiracial identity. It does so by interrogating the historical and political
dynamics which allow for the social construction of multiracial identity, as well as
organization and mobilization around multiracial identity. Furthermore, although it
does not give the personal experiences of multiracial people preeminence in its
analysis, adherents to the historical and socio-political paradigm contextualize
personal experiences within history and politics, and furthermore, complicate the
personal and positive view of multiracial identity. Rather than offering
psychologically oriented identity development scales and stories of multiracial
people who are confused about their racial identity, the historical and socio-political
paradigm presents a more dynamic view of multiracial identity, rather than one
which reifies the image of mixed race people as tragic mulattoes or the cure to
racism. For example, it is suggested that identity can be situational and mixed race
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people are conscious enough of racial politics to simultaneously engage in traditional
and non-traditional discourses on race.
In addition to providing a more complex, less value laden analysis of
multiracial identity, the historical and socio-political approach to studying
multiracial identity entails more measured criticism. Instead of indicting multiracial
identity wholesale and disallowing space for the daily fluidity of race, as the cultural
nationalist paradigm does, the historical and socio-political paradigm takes to task
the multicultural movement for its lack of commitment to anti-racist causes. These
voices and criticisms are legitimate ones and should be taken seriously given the
growing proliferation of multiracial identity. If it is indeed true that multiracial
identity only adds to our existing racial hierarchy, both activists and academics have
the responsibility to re-consider the generally positive portrayals of multiracial
identity permeating both academia and the activist realm.
The historical and socio-political approach to studying multiracial identity
most closely mirrors my own theoretical approach to analyzing the experiences of
biracial college students within a university setting. First, just as the historical and
socio-political interrogates the historical trends and events which have lead to greater
attention being paid to multiracial identity, I spend a great deal of time in Part I of
this dissertation examining the histories of the three universities which are the focus
of this study. I present the histories of each university to explain why multicultural
identity is significant at some institutions, while it is virtually nonexistent at others.
For example, we are able to see that the racial project of colorblindness at Western
University has crippled the university, making it ill equipped to address changing
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racial formations, such as an emerging crop of students who claim multiracial
identities. Second, following the historical and socio-political paradigm, I examine
the politics which have driven multiracial organization and mobilization at
institutions of higher education, such as California University. Data indicates that
similar to Pollock’s students, CU students are actually quite savvy when it comes to
multiracial identity issues and the underlying politics – they recognize that they are
in their political infancy, question the wisdom of the struggle over governmental
categorizations of mixed race people, and favor making alliances with communities
of color. Third, drawing upon the historical and socio-political paradigm’s pointed
critiques of the multiracial movement, I highlight not only the promise, but the
problematic nature of campus multiracial organizations, such as the Hapa Club at
Western University, which is characterized by a lack of direction and a tendency to
exhibit a weak commitment to social justice issues affecting communities of color.
In this literature review, I have presented the major paradigms typically used
to understand and analyze multiracial identity, multiracial persons and their
experiences, and political movements build upon multiracial identity. As I have
discussed in detail, all of the aforementioned literatures offer much in the way of
learning about multiracial identity, yet they also exhibit numerous flaws. In light of
the strengths and weaknesses of the existing literature on multiracial identity, I
present a new multi-theoretical framework for understanding multiracial identity,
one which employs Michael Omi and Howard Winant’s theory of racial formations
and W.E.B. Du Bois’ concept of double consciousness. I argue that such a
framework builds upon and extends the strengths of the cultural nationalist, personal
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and positive, and historical and socio-political paradigms by allowing for an analysis
of the structural and institutional factors which underlie multiracial identity
formations, while also giving credence to the individual persons who have mobilized
this identity and propelled it into existence.
Theoretical Framework: Racial Formations and Du Boisian Double
Consciousness

In 1982, Susie Guillory Phipps, a woman who had lived her life identifying
as a white woman, sued the state of Louisiana after she found that her birth
certificate identified her as black. Despite the fact that Phipps had only 1/32
nd
“black
blood,” the court ruled against Phipps and upheld the state’s right to determine racial
classifications (Omi and Winant, 1994).
In a time when many neo-conservative pundits, as well as their multicultural
activist allies, argue that race is an increasingly insignificant personal matter, the
Phipps case illustrates the continuing power of race in the post-Civil Rights world.
In this world, we find that everyday persons such as Phipps are adamant about
maintaining their racial place, while at the same time racial lines are increasingly
blurred. Moreover, Phipps’ lawsuit and response by the justice system exemplifies
the government’s power to construct, regulate, apply, and destroy racial categories
(Omi and Winant, 1994). In short, Susie Phipps’ story is a compelling example of
racial formations, which recognizes the fluid and contested, yet fundamental nature
of race in U.S. society, as well as the role of the state and social institutions in the
formation of racial identities and racial boundaries.
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Michael Omi and Howard Winant created racial formations theory
55
to
counteract the shortcomings of biology, ethnicity, class, and nation based theories of
race. Omi and Winant conclude that the primary weakness of these theories of race
is their failure to treat race as an autonomous, fundamental social axis tied to social,
political, cultural, and economic life. Thus, Omi and Winant offer the following
definition of racial formations
56
:
the socio-historical process by which racial categories are created, inhabited,
transformed, and destroyed…racial formation is a series of historically
situated projects in which human bodies are represented and organized. A
racial project is simultaneously an interpretation, representation, or
explanation of racial dynamics, and an effort to redistribute resources along
particular racial lines (p. 56).

I contend that the social construction of biracial identity can be considered a process
of racial formations which exemplifies race’s capacity to change, as well as its
ongoing presence in U.S. society. That is, biracial identity, as it exists in the post-

55
Racial formations theory has been criticized for acknowledging, yet failing to fully investigate, the
implications of gender in the racial formations process. Yet a wide range of research on the
intersections between race and gender reveal the importance of such an analysis (Collins, 2000;
Crenshaw, Gotanda, Peller, and Thomas, 1996; Espiritu, 1996; Pardo, 1998). Furthermore, gender is
an important component of mixed race identity formations. For example, much attention has been
paid to the gender dynamics of interracial relationships, including the coercive white master - female
slave relationship, as well as the high rates of white male – Asian American female relationships of
the contemporary era (Collins, 2000; Jarrett-Macaule, 1995; Mitchell, 2002; Espiritu, 1996). Less
attention has been paid to the gendered nature of multiraciality, although an increasing amount of
research has done so. Current research on multiracial women has examined the ways in which gender
has affected their identities and experiences, including being exoticized and struggling with issues of
beauty and skin color (Gillem and Thompson, 2004; Vo and Sciaschitano, 2003). Furthermore, some
research suggests that women may be more likely to identify with a non-white parent, as well as to
maintain the cultural values and practices of the non-white parent (Khanna, 2004; Portes and
Schauffler 1994; Salgado de Snyder and Padilla 1982). It is no doubt clear then, that biracial and
multiracial formations are shaped by gender. However, given the limited scope of this research,
gender is one dynamic which is not fully explored in this study.
56
Omi and Winant further contend that diametrical socio-political forces tempt us to think of race as
either concrete and discrete or as “a mere illusion, an ideological construct” (p.54). In an effort of
reformulation, racial formations theory employs a definition of race as “a concept which signifies and
symbolizes social conflicts and interests by referring to different types of human bodies” (p.55).
Racial formations thus emphasizes the fluidity of race, while also asserting that race continues to be a
fundamental means by which society is organized and claims to political power and resources are
made.
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Civil Rights era, is a racial category which has been created and inhabited by
everyday people, the multiracial identity movement, popular culture, and to a certain
degree, the state, as it now allows people the ability to identify as more than one
race. Furthermore, the mixed race identity movement can be considered a racial
project. That is, the mixed race identity movement interprets the racial dynamics of
the U.S.
57
as fluctuating and progressively changing because of an increase in
interracial marriages and relationships which produce mixed race offspring (Root,
2003; Zack, 2001). In turn, the mixed race identity movement believes that there
must be new forms of representation for mixed race people, the prominent form of
representation being the creation of governmental classifications for mixed race
people. While the primary concern of the movement has thus been rooted in
concerns for the self esteem and psychological health of mixed race people, the
movement has also paired the creation of another racial classification/category with
aims to redistribute resources – for example, mixed race activists have argued that
mixed race people often have unique health needs due to their mixed race
background (Winters and DeBose, 2003).
Racial formations also offers the concept of rearticulation, which is useful in
the study of multiraciality and the multiracial identity movement. In Racial
Formations, Omi and Winant (1994, p.99) write,
Social movements create collective identity by offering their adherents a
different view of themselves and their world; different that is, from the
worldview and self concepts offered by the established social order. They do
this by the process of rearticulation, which produces new subjectivity by

57
Multiracial identity projects also are present in other societies and cultures. For example, the socio-
political activity of the South African Coloureds and the proliferation of mestizaje ideology in Mexico
can be considered racial projects (Anzaldua, 1987; Spencer, 1997).
381
making use of information and knowledge already present in the subject’s
mind.

The mixed race identity movement fosters this rearticulation and ensuing new self
conception in two ways: (1) by conveying the message that mixed race persons have
a right to identify with multiple races and should not be forced to assume monoracial
identities and (2) by framing mixed race people as the vanguard of a new generation
moving toward the destruction of racism and race as we know it. (Daniel, 1992;
Nash, 1999; Root, 2001; Zack, 2001).
Racial formations is a compelling theory to utilize for the analysis of biracial
identity and political organizing around biracial identity because it offers viewpoints
which are typically absent from or neglected in the existing literature on multiracial
identity and persons. First, with the application of racial formations theory, we are
not led to unequivocally encourage or discourage the assertion of particular racial
identities on the part of mixed race peoples, as the cultural nationalist and personal
and positive paradigms do. Instead, with racial formations, a more complex, and
ultimately more accurate, interrogation of mixed race identity can take place in
which the processes and institutional and structural contexts contributing to
multiracial identity can be understood. This is the interrogation that I pursue in the
following chapters by showing that the differing ideologies, histories, and
demographics of institutions of higher education can either encourage, dissuade, or
neutralize the formation of biracial identity among students, as well as organizing
among biracial students. Hence, it becomes clear that the presence or absence of
biracial identity among students is not necessarily solely the consequence of the
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choices or racial consciousness of any particular student, but is the result of larger
institutional forces which prime the student body for biracial identity formations or
create a student body in which these formations are unlikely to occur.
Second, racial formations can help us to better understand the political
activity, organization, and mobilization contributing to multiracial identity
formations. Instead of engaging in unadulterated celebration of mixed race identity
organizations, as the personal and positive paradigm does, racial formations allows
us to keenly analyze the flaws of these organizations within a larger socio-political
context. For instance, in my discussion of the Hapa organization at Western
University, I note that the organization is plagued by political apathy. However, this
does not lead me to indict the organization wholesale. Rather, because racial
formations requires the recognition of institutional forces, I contend that Western
University’s adherence, albeit forced by law, to a colorblind racial project, impedes
the development of a multiracial organization which possesses a strong socio-
political consciousness. Therefore, I also avoid the extremism of the cultural
nationalist paradigm of multiracial identity, as well as strains of the historical and
socio-political paradigm, which attack multiracial organizations, accusing them of
failing to be anti-racist and politically progressive without acknowledging the
limitations imposed by institutional contexts and settings.
In spite of the validity and applicability of racial formations in the study of
mixed race, the examination of biracial identity within a racial formations paradigm
does not allow for a comprehensive analysis of the “lived experiences,” of biracial
persons given racial formations’ emphasis on the state and social institutions. The
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concept of duality or double consciousness allows for a greater understanding of the
lived experience of biraciality. In his groundbreaking work, The Souls of Black Folk,
W.E.B. Du Bois (1903) constructs a vivid description of black life and black identity
in America:
…the Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second
sight in this American world – a world which yields him no true self
consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other
world. It is a peculiar sensation, this double consciousness, this sense of always
looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the
tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt …One ever feels his twoness, -
- an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two
warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from
being torn asunder (p. 10 –11).

With a dual identity, the Negro must navigate through two consciousnesses – two
social realities – that of the Negro in America and that of the empowered white
majority. Du Bois contends that the constant pressure of moving through two
divergent consciousnesses negatively impacts the psyche of individual blacks and
also the social standing of the black community as a whole (Harris, 1997; Holt,
1990).
Du Bois construction of double consciousness was rooted in his deeply
personal experiences of racial oppression. In particular, throughout his own life, Du
Bois was compelled and forced to navigate numerous social, economic, and political
worlds. Du Bois was born to Alfred Du Bois and Mary Burghardt Du Bois in Great
Barrington, Massachusetts, and his familial lineage included both Black and white
family members. While Du Bois was not subject to the extremes of racism during
his childhood, his later journey into the South to attend Fisk University in Nashville,
Tennessee introduced him to the ravages of Southern racism. Going on to attend
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Friedrich Wilhelm University in Berlin, and Harvard University, Du Bois often felt
alienated within high culture and white institutions which offered only tacit
acceptance (DuBois, 1903).
One might rightfully ask if it is appropriate to apply the concept of double
consciousness to the experience of multiracial people in the post-Civil Rights era
given that Du Bois utilized the concept to describe the experience of African
Americans in the 19
th
century and early 20
th
century. After all, in spite of the many
obstacles they may face in a still monoracially organized society, mixed race people,
regardless of whether they possess Black ancestry or not, in no way face the racial
oppression that African Americans faced during Du Bois’ time. In fact, many
multiracial people are not only embraced by their own families, but feel generally
comfortable in U.S. society and see their racial identity in a positive light. However,
even while considering these facts, I contend that double consciousness remains a
useful concept for understanding the experiences of multiracial people, and in
particular, the biracial students who are the subject of this dissertation. More
specifically, the collective and individual experiences of mixed race people can be
viewed through the lens of double consciousness, as mixed race people represent the
crossing of the troublesome colorline about which Du Bois wrote. Some biracial and
multiracial people may actually attempt to “pass” into whiteness, but the strength of
the one drop rule and hypodescent forces many more to reconcile and navigate
numerous racial worlds, which may actually incur not only duality, but multiple
consciousness. Thus, persons of mixed race destabilize, blur, and highlight potential
fractures in the existing colorline. As with issues of oppression in black history
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discussed by Du Bois, the main force behind fragmented identity in this case
becomes society’s refusal to integrate mixed race people into the larger social
structure and processes. Du Bois’ concept of double consciousness thus echoes the
“othered” experience of mixed race identity, in which mixed race persons are
assigned an identity by the larger society that they may not desire or accept – as
Lythcott-Haims (1994, p.540) notes, “the multiracial person suffers in
silence….although society has told multiracial people to choose, in actuality, society
makes the choice for them.” Du Boisian duality also can be applied to
understanding mixed race persons’ struggle with their internal racial multiplicity and
the navigation of multiple racial worlds (Root, 1990). Much like Du Bois’ assertion
that black identity involves a unique viewpoint, numerous works on mixed race
persons’ lived experience emphasizes their ability to see into and live in multiple
racial worlds (Alcoff, 1995; Sundstrom, 2001). In her essay “On Being Blackanese,”
Mitzi Uehara-Carter (1998, p.58) gives voice to this multiplicity: “My body and
mentality is not split down the middle where half is black and the other half is
Japanese. I have taken aspects of both worlds to create my own worldview and
identity.”
Furthermore, I also contend that some mixed race people may also
experience an extension of double consciousness, possessing multiple consciousness
as they navigate and attempt to reconcile more than two racial worlds. For example,
an Afro-Asian individual may not only come to terms with his/her African American
and Asian American parentage, but also with the expectations of the white world.
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However, given recent legal and social validations of mixed race identity,
biracial and multiracial people today have distinct advantages over the Negro of Du
Bois’ time, as they may come to view their multiple identifications as positive
experiences of racial merging, sharing and reconciliation (Anzaldua, 1999; Root,
1996). Hence, the conceptualizations of double and multiple consciousness
employed in this dissertation depart from Du Bois’ original conceptualization in that
they may function as positive experiences in the lives of mixed race people, yielding
varied interactions with other racial groups which might not otherwise occur.
Du Bois offers another concept in addition to double consciousness which
may also be utilized to describe and understand the positive and negative aspects of
double and multiple consciousness. In The Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois creates the
metaphor of the veil to describe the Black-white divide. While exemplifying the
burdens of Black life, in particular the oppressiveness of viewing the rest of the
world and oneself through a perpetually distorted lens, the veil still also frames
African Americans as a people of moral purpose and vision: “veiled figures…have
the opportunity to pass unnoticed, to observe without being observed, and to conceal
their identity” (Gates and Oliver, p.xxvi). I contend that multiracial people often
times wear a veil, even in the “progressive” post-Civil Rights era. The veil may
assume many forms – it may be used as a cloak for mixed race persons who make
the decision to pass as white, as a sign of distinction for multiracial people whose
racial ambiguity sets them apart from the monoracial majority, and as lens through
which people of mixed race are able to view and experience multiple racial groups,
endowing a vision denied to others. However, in my usage of the concept of the veil
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in relation to the biracial experience, I do not characterize mixed race people as
possessing some sort of unique moral vision, a quality which Du Bois seems to
accord African Americans. To do so, would be to fall into some of the weaknesses
of the personal and positive paradigm, which enjoys characterizing mixed race
people as “special,” and problematically exoticizing mixed race people.
The usage of double consciousness, multiple consciousness, and the veil,
along with racial formations, in this dissertation yields unique insight into the lives
of biracial students within three highly racialized institutions of higher education.
First, the concepts of double consciousness, multiple consciousness, and the veil
allow us to fully examine all aspects of the multiracial experience, including its
positive, negative, and neutral aspects. Such an analysis departs from the personal
and positive paradigm, which is the most popular strain of literature addressing
multiracial identity, which tends to assert that the assumption and assertion of a
multiracial identity is what is “best” or most “healthy” for mixed race persons. In
contrast to such psychologically oriented approaches to mixed race identity, which
seem to propose a developmental “end” to identity, I believe that double and
multiple consciousness recognizes that identity is dynamic, lived, and changes over
time. This reality is illustrated in the lives of racially mixed students such as Sara, a
Bay University student who embraces and celebrates her Creole background but
asserts a Black identity.
In light of the existing research on multiracial issues and my own theoretical
framework of racial formations and double consciousness, in the following chapters I
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analyze multiraciality at California University, Western University, and Bay
University.
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Chapter 5: Western University and California University
Biracial Students: Facing Double
Consciousness, Otherness, and the
Complexities of Organizing
Introduction
In this chapter I utilize a theoretically integrative approach to analyze the
experiences of biracial students at California University and Western University. I
begin with a joint discussion of CU and WU, as at both universities I was able to find
and interview 15 biracial students, as well as conduct a focus group with a biracial
oriented organization at CU. The vast majority of these interviews were conducted
between January 2005 and August 2006. In contrast, at Bay University, only one
biracially identified student was found and no biracial or multiracial organization is
present on campus. Thus, I analyze data collected from BU separately. In my
examination of biracial identity formations at CU and WU I jointly employ racial
formations and Du Boisian duality to understand (1) the larger context of the
university as a socio-political institution where race, specifically monoracialism,
serves as a principle form of organization, and (2) the personal experiences and
agency of biracial students, in particular how their identities are produced and
reformulated within institutions of higher education.
My analysis will engage both the socio-structural and social psychological
components and implications of mixed race identity, while the bulk of current
research largely assumes a psychological approach. That is, the vast majority of
work on biracialism has focused on biographical accounts of biracial persons’
identity struggles, and has frequently exhibited a tendency toward modern tragic
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mulatto portrayals. This work has wholly neglected the role of structure – a glaring
omission which obscures the reality that biracial identity is not simply an entity of
the psyche, but is a social phenomenon framed by historical and contemporary
racism, as well as competing racial groups’ claims to power. In order to illuminate
the importance of structure in understanding the contemporary mixed race identity
movement, I utilize racial formations to examine how the university delineates and
institutionalizes racial identities and boundaries. But this does not mean that I
dismiss more biographical accounts of biracial identity as unimportant. These
accounts are important because they reflect the lived experience of race, and thus, I
use the concepts of double consciousness and multiple consciousness to analyze
these experiences. In short, the concurrent application of racial formations and Du
Boisian duality allows for a fuller, more accurate picture, and hence analysis, of how
biracial identity is being negotiated within institutions of higher education.
Data attained from interviews with students at CU and WU indicated the
following. First, biracial students at both CU and WU stated that they had
experienced marginalization and otherness in their childhoods and within their
families. Second, feelings of marginalization and otherness were often enhanced by
the racial climates of CU and WU, which tended to be characterized by racial
segregation, thus, inducing bouts of isolation among biracial students. Race based
student services at each university become a part of this racial segregation, in that
they explicitly or tacitly reify monoracialism and monoracial identities.
Third, race based student services at each university responded differently to
the presence of biracial students on campus, as well as the organization and
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mobilization of biracial students. At CU, administrators of African American
Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian Pacific
American Students acknowledged the increasing importance of biraciality on
campus, but this acknowledgement most often did not translate into any tangible
programming. In contrast, administrators and staff members of the Center for
Academic Achievement at WU did not even acknowledge the existence of biracial
students. The differences in the institutions’ treatment and response to biracial
students is a consequence of the disparate racial projects functioning at each
institution. While a left-liberal multicultural racial project is in play at CU which
encourages the open discussion of race, a colorblind racial project has infiltrated
WU, rendering progressive discourse on race improbable. Thus, although CU’s
RBSS are still organized around monoracial identities, there is at least space for the
introduction of biracial identity into the campus’ racial dynamics. In contrast, WU’s
colorblind ideology makes it difficult to even address long standing issues of race,
such as the declining rates of Black student admits discussed in Part I.
Fourth, the racial projects of each institution, as manifested by RBSS, shape
the political organization and mobilization of biracial students at CU and WU.
While the left-liberal multiculturalism manifested in RBSS at CU retains the
potential to marginalize biracial students, the more open environment and
institutional practices of CU contributes to the construction of a biracial organization
which although struggling to find its identity, engages in dynamic and critical
discussions of race which have the potential to yield a strong political voice on
campus. The nature of the biracial organization at CU thus differs from that at WU,
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which assumes a personal and positive philosophy about mixed race, primarily
engages in social activities, and lacks a connection to a social justice and political
agenda. I argue that this organization’s largely a-political nature can be attributed to
the larger institutional environment, which does not at all recognize the biracial
experience, and is currently failing to model the practice of progressive racial
politics.
Biracial Students: Experiences of Marginalization and Double
Consciousness

In Part I of this dissertation I argued that race based student services are a
manifestation of universities’ participation in local and national politics, as well as
their propagation of racial projects. Building upon this argument, I contend that
while RBSS are the products of liberatory racial projects in the sixties and seventies,
which sought the creation and implementation of affirmative action, ethnic studies
and programs benefiting students of color, they also inscribed monoracial identity
boundaries into the institutional landscape, which in the post-Civil Rights era may
potentially marginalize students who identify in non-monoracial terms. Through
interviews with both students and directors of RBSS, it became evident that RBSS
retain the capacity to further biracial students’ sense of double consciousness,
although this is not always the case, particularly when the biracial student assumes a
monoracial identity or retains a racial phenotype that causes others to confer a
monoracial, conventional identity. The following factors contributed to feelings of
marginalization and double consciousness among biracial students: (1) experiences
of racial conflict in childhood and within the family, (2) RBSS’ reinforcement of
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monoracial labels and racial segregation on campus, which is carried out in an
explicit manner at California University and tacitly at Western University (3) and
minimization or wholesale neglect of biracial identity by directors of RBSS, as well
as the absence of targeted programming and services for biracial students.
Effect of Childhood and Familial Experiences on Biracial College Students

In defining African Americans as a group of people conflicted with double
consciousness, W.E.B. Du Bois (1903, p.9) asks, “how does it feel to be a
problem?”, and “Why did God make me an outcast and a stranger in my own
house?” Du Bois poses these poignant questions as he recalls a childhood memory
of a white girl who refused his offering of a holiday greeting card. It was at this
moment when Du Bois first realized his Blackness, a “veil” which shut him out from
the rest of the world in which he lived. Such a moment of “outsider” identification,
often occurring in childhood, is echoed in the sentiments of biracial students, who
often recount feelings of “otherness.” Otherness can be defined as an ambiguous
ethnic identity, resulting from a “marginal status imposed by society…which poses a
severe stress to positive identity development” (Root, 1990, p.188). Such a marginal
status is imposed as a sanction for deviation from monoracial identities.
The majority of biracial students interviewed at California University and
Western University had experienced racial discrimination or conflict in their
childhoods. Students most often spoke of racialized conflict within their families,
the most severe of which resulted in familial estrangement. Nolan, a California
University student of African American and white parentage, stated,
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Neither my mom’s parents or my dad’s parents were too happy about my
parents getting married. Now things are better, since obviously they’ve been
married for awhile now. But I think the stress probably took its toll on
everybody. And even now, I get the sense that my grandparents still think
everything woulda been easier if my mom and dad were of the same race.

Similarly, Andrea, a WU student of Mexican and white parentage, stated that her
parents experienced opposition to their marriage, but that this opposition somewhat
dissipated with time. In an interview, Andrea said,
My mom’s family, who are the white ones, had an issue with her marrying
my dad. They believed all the typical stereotypes about Mexicans – lazy,
blah, blah, blah. But eventually when my sister and I were born, they eased
up. But I know they still have their prejudices, which kinda makes me look
at them weird.

While Nolan and Andrea’s experiences are ones in which grandparents disapprove of
their children’s marriage, there also may be prejudice and racism which exists
between the interracial couple themselves. As Jasmine, a CU student of Colombian
and Irish heritage asserted,
I really identify more with my Latino side – just the language and cultural
practices. So sometimes that’s been kinda hard because my dad [who’s
white], he’s always said racist things since I was a kid. I mean I totally love
my dad and everything and we’re tight, but…

Nolan, Andrea, and Jasmine’s experiences exemplify the nuanced prejudices and
racism to which biracial and multiracial children may be exposed. That is, mixed
race children may not experience outright rejection from one side of the family or
another, but may be very well aware of, and hurt by, family members’ prejudices.
Although these prejudices may subside substantially, particularly with the birth of
racially mixed grandchildren, they are not forgotten, as noted by Nolan and Andrea.
Instead, as Du Bois states, these students learn to be “strangers” within their own
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families and homes, separated from prejudiced family members by a constantly
present veil.
However, in some biracial students’ experience, the racism and prejudice of
family members did not ease with time, and eventually ceded permanent fractures in
family relationships. Jackie, a CU student of Korean and white heritage, recounted
her maternal and paternal grandparents’ disapproval of her parents’ marriage, which
eventually resulted in complete estrangement on her (white) paternal side:
They [my paternal grandparents] just never approved and never got over it,
which is unfortunate. They just could not accept their son marrying a
Korean, who they viewed as a foreigner. So today, I’m really close with my
mom’s side of the family, but I don’t have any interaction with my dad’s
side.

Echoing Jackie’s comments, Brandon, a WU student of Black and Mexican
parentage, stated, “I don’t really have a relationship with my mother’s side of the
family because they’re still trippin’ about my dad being Black. They’ll send me
birthday cards, but we don’t talk, hang out or anything.” Jackie and Brandon’s
stories reflect the worst that can happen when family members disapprove of an
interracial relationship or marriage – that of complete estrangement. In turn, youth
such as Jackie and Brandon end up being reared by only one side of the family, as
well as socialized to one race and culture in spite of their mixed backgrounds.
The substantial evidence indicating racial conflict within interracial families
suggests that formation of mixed race identities, including biracial identity, is still a
contentious process within the institution of the family. That is, when there is
internal conflict within the family, it becomes more difficult for students to navigate
issues of race, including their own identity, as they do not have role models in their
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immediate environment. Such a reality impugns much of the literature within the
personal and positive paradigm, which acknowledges the potential for interracial
conflict within families, but then in turn favors a “happy end” to the multiracial
story, in which children are able to embrace their identities as part of a new
generation who is challenging the boundaries of race (Jackson Nakazawa, 2004).
Furthermore, these students’ experiences clearly suggest that interracial
relationships, marriages, and they children they produce are often not a sign of
assimilation and blending of the races. Instead, these students’ experiences illustrate
the continuing power of the racial project of white supremacy, which seeks to
maintain separation of the races, particularly when it comes to intimate relationships.
This reality suggests that a theoretical paradigm, such as the historical and socio-
political approach to multiracial identity, as well as racial formations, are more
useful in understanding the mixed race experience because they address issues of
power and conflict. In the following discussion, we see that students’ early
experiences with racial formations and double/multiple consciousness within the
institution of the family, eventually shapes and affects students’ contact with and
experience with institutions of higher education, which are notorious for being
racially contentious social institutions.

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Troubled Waters: Negotiating Racial Segregation and Monoracialism on
Campus

Given biracial students’ conflict ridden familial experiences, it is important to
ask, how do such experiences shape students’ college lives? Data gleaned from
interviews at California University and Western University indicated that students
who were witness to racialized conflict within their families while growing up
tended to balk at the racial politics and perceived segregation of their campuses, and
chose their friends carefully. In turn, students generally avoided participation in race
based activities, including race based student services, such as African
American/Black Student Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for
Asian Pacific American Student Services at CU, and to a lesser extent, the Center for
Academic Achievement at WU.
Both biracial students at CU and WU voiced uneasiness and ambivalence
about racial segregation they observed on their campuses. As Jordan, a WU student
of Black and Asian parentage stated,
On the one hand, the campus is pretty diverse, although not as diverse as it
was before from my understanding. But on the other hand, there is a
tendency for people to stick with their own group. Like there are so many
ethnic and cultural organizations – there’s a group for everyone - that you
could just join one and that would be your social group – you don’t have to
interact with anyone else except in class.

Similar sentiments were voiced by CU students, such as Thompson, a student of
Japanese and white parentage, who stated,
For the most part, people, I mean, of different racial groups get
along…there’s no outright animosity or anything, but I think there is still a
lot of segregation. Even when you walk out onto campus you will always
know where the different races are gonna be. Asians kick it in front of the
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library, Blacks on the stairs, and whites, which is mostly Greek people, on the
lawn.

This type of campus segregation yielded the potential to foster feelings of caution
and isolation among biracial students and reflects a pervasive and tangible effect of
monoracialism – the separation of persons into the five racial groups, which in turn
often helps to foster segregation. As a result, biracial students felt pressure to
navigate the various “racial worlds” on campus, a pressure which contributed to
feelings of double and multiple consciousness.
Furthermore, these feelings seemed to be exacerbated for students who had
experienced racial conflict in their childhoods. For example, Jackie, the
Korean/white student who is estranged from her paternal grandparents, asserted,
I’m not really social, especially here [at the university] where people tend to
stick to what is familiar [racially]. So my closest friends are also biracial -
one is Mexican and white and the other is Black and white. There’s just kind
of a shared experience and understanding there.

Echoing Jackie’s sentiments, Jasmine stated, “And here at school it’s been hard too
because I look white and the Latinos haven’t been that welcoming. So I don’t have
many friends here.” Jackie and Jasmine’s experiences indicate that racism within
interracial families has the capacity to induce feelings of double consciousness,
which begin in childhood and continue through young adulthood. Moreover, Jackie
and Jasmine’s stories reflect the power of a highly racialized university environment,
in which students are segregated by race and issues of racial authenticity pervade
campus identity politics and peer groups, to further reinforce biracial students’
otherness. RBSS are active in these campus racial identity politics by explicitly or
tacitly legitimating particular racial identities and racial projects. Given RBSS’ role
399
in racial projects on campus, in the following two sections I analyze biracial
students’ interaction with and participation in RBSS at California University and
Western University. I examine the dynamics at each institution separately, as I
found through data collection that the differing racial projects put forth by RBSS at
CU and WU, left liberal multiculturalism and colorblindness, respectively, shape
how biracial students respond to RBSS.
Biracial Student Participation in African American Student
Services, Chicano/a Student Services, and the Center for Asian
Pacific American Services at California University

It is clear that biracial students’ childhood and familial experiences and racial
segregation on campuses have the potential to foster feelings of double/multiple
consciousness, otherness, and isolation. In the following discussion, I hence move to
more specifically examine the ways in which biracial formations are negotiated in
relation to race based student services, which manifest the universities’ racial
projects. I argue that because California University institutionalizes and deploys
monoracial formations through left-liberal multiculturalism, biracial students often
are prevented from developing “true self consciousness” as mixed race persons, for
they are forced to view themselves “through the eyes of others” (DuBois, 1903,
p.10-11). That is, the university is organized around and legitimates the racial
identities of “Black,” “White,” “Latin@,” “Asian American”, and “Native
American.” Yet this legitimization process inherently denies the existence and
veracity of biracial identity and biracial persons. Hence biracial students are left to
navigate the “established” m