Last Night's DEI Dream: Art and a Change of Heart Will Save the World
by
Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.
November 2, 2024
Perhaps inspired by the Day of the Dead and my deep thoughts and prayers these days on ancestors, especially my late mother, Helen Valenzuela, I had a dream last night that I was on a search committee at a major public university in Texas. Our committee of 5 members of the faculty were to replace a departing provost. The provost is the head of the academic mission of the university. They are also referred to as the Chief Academic Officers of the university.
In my dream, she was an affable white woman with short red hair and freckles. Race and gender are important to this story on DEI, though I will not analyze it fully as I'm still processing the dream. I welcome your comments.
The space for the search committee meeting was a vast, open quadrangle that blended elements of ancient Greek design with modern, dilapidated structures that were chipped and crumbling. Ha, a "Hellenic" context. Love you, Mom! My dream felt at once current, futuristic, and dystopian.
The roads leading up to the quadrangle were dusty and riddled with potholes, a stark contrast to the imposing Greek-motif main building that loomed ahead. Its impressive facade evoked a bygone era, hinting at faded grandeur. The marble columns and platforms appeared worn and weathered, their once-smooth surfaces now etched with the marks—not of time, one sensed—but of underinvestment and neglect. Still, we as a faculty were pursuing our charge to select the next provost of the university with me as one of their representatives.
I searched for an equivalent architectural structure online and this was the closest that I could find. This is a digital creation of what the Temple of Elysian Harmony looked like in ancient Greece. It’s fitting, as for the ancient Greeks, the Elysium symbolized a realm of creativity, wisdom, and intellectual pursuits—the highest and noblest of qualities we envision for our universities today. This is why so many university campuses—and public buildings, too—are adorned with architectural artwork and aesthetically constructed according to Greek and Roman architecture in order to convey power, authority, and status.
However, in the context of my dream, I want you to imagine a large, u-shaped quadrangle structure that similarly consists of marble columns and platforms, with the entire structure opening up at its mouth to a large dirt parking lot and roads leading up to it. Cars are inchoately parked, revealing a lack of order that betrayed the decorum of "the Elysian" of my dream. I walked through the uncomfortable dust to get to my meeting with the search committee and provost.
On a specially constructed platform astride the Elysian marble stairs, the outgoing provost was on a large, oblong table facing the audience and with the five search committee members facing her, myself included. What was interesting was that the entire university of students, staff, and faculty were invited such that the quadrangle area was fully packed. I sensed that many members of the public at large were present, as well, given the high-stakes nature of the meeting. I appreciated but was somewhat inhibited in knowing that members of the public were in attendance, including, possibly, members of the Texas legislature.
I don't remember any microphones. Rather, our voices were magically heard by all, presumably because of the Elysian's architectural design. What I liked was the "demos" vibe of the event, which is, of course, the root of the word "democracy," meaning "the people." What all appreciated and took for granted was that this was a transparent conversation surrounding this important hire where the expertise of the search committee was recognized as a matter of fact.
On the topic of the qualities of the provost, I remember saying that they should ideally be likable to the faculty, considering their relationship to the faculty. I by no means meant that the provost herself wasn't likable, but rather, the next provost should be similarly appealing. She took my suggestion well and agreed, nodding her head. Another on the search committee asked the provost what is the question she gets asked the most.
The provost said, "The question I get asked most is about diversity." My mind went immediately to the struggles we have been having in Texas with Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI). I thought to myself, "I'm not surprised considering all the chaos that the Texas legislature's ending of DEI programs and initiatives had wrought. In fact, it was the answer I was expecting.
What happened next, though, surprised me. The provost stopped speaking and stood up and walked over to her left side of the quadrangle, where large canvases dropped down from between its marble columns, four total. She painted with a large paintbrush, one canvas after another at breakneck speed, with beautiful, bright-colored imagery. The audience, myself included, was stunned and spellbound.
Then a white female professor, presumably a faculty member from the Fine Arts Department, similarly stood up and belted out a most beautiful rendition of the classic, Mexican song, "Los Laureles," sung by numerous artists, reminiscent of the memorable one by Linda Ronstadt in her best-selling, Grammy Award-winning album, Canciones de Mi Padre (My father's songs). You can listen to it in its entirety here and read the lyrics in Spanish here.
The provost never stopped painting. Instead, she inspired this professor to extemporaneously stand up to sing this song, which was clearly one of her well-rehearsed favorites, that extended the political statement the provost was making through art. What surprised us Mexicans and Mexican Americans in the audience was that both were white powerful women doing this! This was unheard of!
The person next to me said, "Can you believe this? There is such a deep hunger for diversity that even white people are craving it!" "And it's Mexican!" I said.
The final touch was a most piercing, loud Mexican grito, by a Latino male that punctuated a most extraordinary event, waking me up (see Learn How to Grito like a Mariachi on Youtube).
There are many layers here that I am still figuring out. An immediate takeaway is that there truly exists such a deep hunger for diversity that we're seeing white people actively seeking out multicultural experiences, engaging with diverse communities, and advocating for inclusivity in various spaces. It really is hard to argue against the idea that our diversity is our strength, forming us into a richer, more vibrant society and nation that benefits everyone.
Conversely, without it, we are impoverished. Even our institutions lose their gleam.
A final thought is that we, as Mexicans or Mexican Americans—or members of any nationality, race, or ethnicity—also cannot and should not underestimate white people. Many of them are already Mexican (or other race, ethnicity, or nationality) in their hearts. And the number is growing. Or perhaps they have a Mexican mother, father, grandmother, or grandfather, including departed ones, who are not just telling them to love those parts of themselves but also that art really can save the world.
If it worked for Linda Ronstadt, it could work for them, too. 🩷
Then a white female professor, presumably a faculty member from the Fine Arts Department, similarly stood up and belted out a most beautiful rendition of the classic, Mexican song, "Los Laureles," sung by numerous artists, reminiscent of the memorable one by Linda Ronstadt in her best-selling, Grammy Award-winning album, Canciones de Mi Padre (My father's songs). You can listen to it in its entirety here and read the lyrics in Spanish here.