A User’s Guide to All the Banned Books in Texas by Dan Solomon, TEXAS MONTHLY

Just came across this article from 2022 on banned books in Texas Monthly. Banning books is so medieval and actually untenable for the digital natives that Gen Z represents. This means that our youth can't actually be kept from learning from "banned books," considering the era we live in with so many of these accessible at young people's fingertips. If anything, banning books draws attention to books that youth might not otherwise read. 

It's good to know that organizations like PEN America and school librarians are fighting back as covered in this article authored by David Montgomery in EdWeek titled, "Librarians Fight Back Against Efforts to Ban Books in Schools."  Two organizations spearheading this are Moms for Liberty and No Left Turn in Education. Commenting on banned books specifically in Texas, Texas Library Association Executive Director Shirley Robinson notes that they've not experienced challenges like these in the last 40 years. 

I recently met Moms for Libros founder Lissette Fernandez at a conference organized by PEN America in Orlando, Florida. Her organization is an obvious response to Moms for Liberty that you can learn about here from this August 13, 2023 piece on NBC Miami titled, "Moms for Libros: how the educational disputes raging in Florida will affect young learners this school year."

This won't last forever. In the meantime, do consider that reading these texts is more important now than ever. Not that parents shouldn't have a say, but that we should not establish blanket, willy-nilly policy on the basis of exceptional, individual concerns.

Angela Valenzuela

A User’s Guide to All the Banned Books in Texas

Discussions of race or sex, or just the wrong vibes, seem to be all it takes to number a book among the 801 bannings in Texas this year.

By Dan Solomon

September 20, 2022 | Texas Monthly

Over the past year, schools and libraries around the country have been banning a whole lot of books. And while this is a nationwide phenomenon, no state’s schools have embraced the practice of declaring certain stories and perspectives forbidden to their young people the way that Texas’s have. According to a list compiled by the literature and human rights nonprofit PEN America, between July 1 of last year and June 30, Texas has seen 801 bannings. That’s a huge number! Compare that with, say, Alaska or South Carolina, which have banned one book each. (In both instances, it’s Maia Kobabe’s award-winning comic book memoir Gender Queer, which has also been banned in nine districts in Texas.)

That figure—801 banned books—refers not to individual titles but rather to the number of times any school district has issued a ban. Some titles, such as Gender Queer, appear multiple times, having been banned from Canutillo (fifteen miles northwest of downtown El Paso) to Clear Creek, 785 miles to its east. Others, such as Brent Sherrard’s Final Takedown—a slim, out-of-print volume from a small Canadian publisher about a kid who faces time in juvenile detention—appear but once (in San Antonio’s North East Independent School District, the most avid banner of books in the state). Some are banned in school libraries, others in classrooms. Some have been removed pending an investigation that the school district may or may not have the time and resources to conduct in a timely manner. Most have been banned by administrators, while others are the result of a formal challenge from a parent or other community member. In any event, the guiding principle remains the same: to ensure that students are not exposed to ideas that their elders do not want them to consider, by making it increasingly difficult to access the volumes in which those ideas are contained. (Teenagers are, of course, famously respectful of such rules, and rarely seek out such materials on their own.)

Read Next: 

A Texas School District Banned My Book. Then Things Got Really Ugly.

As the full list from PEN America indicates, book banning has become a popular cause among some in our polarized electorate—but this wasn’t always the case. Back in the halcyon days of, er, March 2021, some of Texas’s political leaders fervently opposed the idea of book bans, when the topic was the decision of Dr. Seuss Enterprises, publisher of the work of Theodore Geisel under his famous pen name, to no longer publish new copies of a handful of the author’s titles that included racist stereotypes. (Ted Cruz sold signed copies of Green Eggs and Ham in protest!) That may as well have been a lifetime ago, however, as the length and breadth of the list indicates. Texas has banned books about boys and books about girls, and books where the gender is more of a swirl. It’s banned books about sex and books about race, and books about those whose white hoods hide their face. It’s banned classics, and new books, and books in-between; it’s banned best-sellers, award winners, and books rarely seen. It’s banned books about what the Nazis did to the Jews, and beloved old books by the great Judy Blume. It’s banned comics, and prose books, and books full of poems; it’s banned slim volumes, and it’s banned hefty tomes. Texas has banned a huge number of books, indeed! And here’s a quick guide to the ones schools don’t want kids to read.

A PEN America notes, these are just the incidents that have been reported to the group—the reality of book bans likely extends further throughout the state. But here are some trends.

Books about gender identity and homosexuality

Kobabe’s Gender Queer, which explores the author’s journey to the realization that their identity is beyond the gender binary, is one of just a handful of books to appear nine times on the list. It’s hardly the only book about gender identity and same-sex romance to find itself banned in a Texas school or library, however. George M. Johnson’s “memoir-manifesto” about his coming out, All Boys Aren’t Blue, appears seven times; Susan Kuklin’s 2014 nonfiction collection of interviews, Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out, appears five times, as does Mike Curato’s comic book memoir Flamer. Even titles that seem downright clinical in their examination of the history of gay folks in America make the list—Jaime A. Seba’s Gay Issues and Politics: Marriage, the Military, & Work Place Discrimination, a 64-page explanation of its eponymous topic, has been banned twice. Four books by different authors with the title Gender Identity have all been banned in at least one district. It’s not just weighty titles getting banned, either—L.C. Rosen’s queer rom-com Jack of Hearts (And Other Parts) has been banned in eight districts, while The Breakaways, Cathy G. Johnson’s lightweight graphic novel about a kids’ soccer team, is banned in six because it includes a transgender boy among the players.

Books that are about straight people but have some sexual content

As the controversy around The Breakaways indicates, book-banners seem to contend that any depiction of gay or transgender characters—or nonfiction explorations of those identities—is inherently inappropriate for kids. When it comes to straight, cisgender folks, though, things have to get a bit more specific. Books such as Ashley Hope Pérez’s Out of Darkness, Jesse Andrews’s Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, and Lauren Myracle’s l8r, g8r all appear on the list (nine, seven, and four times, respectively) for touching on sexual themes, featuring teens who talk about sex, or depicting sexual abuse. For nonfiction, books that discuss sex or its consequences openly tend to make the list—titles include Margaret O. Hyde’s Safe Sex 101: An Overview for Teens, Donna Lange’s Taking Responsibility: A Teen’s Guide to Contraception and Pregnancy, and Chloe Shantz-Hilke’s My Girlfriend’s Pregnant! A Teen’s Guide to Becoming a Dad (which seems like a useful book for kids in that situation!). And abortion, in any context, can get a book banned: Melody Rose’s Abortion: A Documentary and Reference Guide and Johannah Haney’s The Abortion Debate: Understanding the Issues, relatively straightforward histories, are on the list, as are books on the history of Roe v. Wade. Even dad-friendly political thrillers can land on the list if abortion comes up—bestselling author and occasional Fox News contributor Richard North Patterson’s Protect and Defend received an administrator’s challenge as well.

Books about race

The fervor around “critical race theory,” which describes an academic framework not taught in public schools, means that it doesn’t matter how well regarded a book about race is—such titles are all over the list of banned books. Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates’s National Book Award–winning book-length letter to his young son about growing up Black, is on the list, as is his We Were Eight Years in Power: An American Tragedy, which features essays on race in America. One needn’t be a National Book Award winner to get on the list for writing about race, either—Duncan Tonatiuh’s history book for young readers, Separate Is Never Equal: Sylvia Mendez and Her Family’s Fight for Desegregation, makes the list, as does Mychal Denzel Smith’s memoir Invisible Man, Got the Whole World Watching: A Young Black Man’s Education. Ibram X. Kendi’s books How to Be an Antiracist and Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America are both banned in multiple districts. Fiction bannings include some of the most acclaimed books in American literature: Toni Morrison’s Beloved and The Bluest Eye, Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, and white author William Styron’s The Confessions of Nat Turner have all been removed from libraries. Poetry isn’t exempt, either—And Still I Rise, the third collection of poems by the great Maya Angelou, is on the list, as well.

Books about political violence, historical or speculative

If you’re a student who wants to learn about the history of the Ku Klux Klan, you may need to look outside of your school library to find the most acclaimed book on the subject for young adults: Susan Campbell Bartoletti’s They Called Themselves the KKK: The Birth of an American Terrorist Group isn’t on the shelves in three districts. Understanding how those roots affect the U.S. today might be a challenge too—Vegas Tenold’s Everything You Love Will Burn: Inside the Rebirth of White Nationalism in America, which traces the history of racist violence from the early days of the Ku Klux Klan to the events in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 2017, is also on the list in two districts. Art Spiegelman’s Pulitzer Prize–winning history of the Holocaust, the comic book Maus, appears on the list, as does Ari Folman’s graphic adaptation of Anne Frank’s Diary of a Young Girl. Even in fiction, books that explore fascist violence are verboten—the DC Comics graphic novel V for Vendetta, by legendary comic book creator Alan Moore, is banned in three districts for some reason. (The film adaptation, which similarly deals with anti-fascist themes, is also banned in China and Russia.)

Books where the vibes are wrong

For decades, Judy Blume’s Then Again, Maybe I Won’t, a puberty story from a boy’s perspective originally published in the seventies, has been a classic of the coming-of-age genre. The book hasn’t changed over the past fifty years, but frank storytelling about the issues high school students face frequently makes a book a target in Texas. Books about teen misfits such as Rainbow Rowell’s Eleanor & Park or Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower both appear. Perennial banned-book list titles such as Of Mice and Men make an appearance, as does John Irving’s The Cider House Rules. The DC Comics graphic novel Y: The Last Man also makes the list, maybe because it’s a science fiction story about everyone with a Y chromosome dying, and that’d be a bummer? Hard to say for sure, but in addition to banning books because they acknowledge that teens think about sex, or out of a desire to disappear queer folks and discussions of race from the conversation, some stuff makes the list just because of, like, vibes.

Latino, Hispanic, Latinx, Chicano: The History Behind the Terms—as my blog soon reaches 3 million page views!

Friends,

I enjoyed reading this piece and seems to be a good one to ponder as my blog soon reaches 3 million pageviews! Thanks to all my loyal readers from throughout the world who find it useful. Don't hesitate to reach out to me if you have any questions, concerns, or suggestions. I've been doing this for a long time and plan to continue as long as I can. Heck, it's my civic duty. Now, to this post.

To complexify the analysis of identity in this piece, the author would do well to additionally incorporate Afro-Indigenous, Afro-Latina/o/x, and Indigenous identities to the mix. Why? As I look at all the work that so many of us are doing in our communities, it's fully about honoring and centering our own diverse identities and Indigeneities like we're accomplishing at our Saturday School, Academia Cuauhtli, and our annual Aztech Kidz Code Summer Camp. At our school and summer camp, we don't seek to turn anyone into an Aztec, but rather to use Aztec and Mayan knowledge and wisdom as a point of departure for students to explore their own identities.

Takeaways? Culture is a powerful social construction, especially when we decide as people at a particular point in history to call ourselves. Culture also inescapably evolves both within communities and in the broader society. It's therefore important now more than ever to speak another language or languages and to become culturally and linguistically competent no matter the anti-DEI or anti-CRT racist agenda pursued by Texas Senators. Becoming competent in these ways is definitely empowering, however, it doesn't happen overnight and requires lifelong learning and investment.

The beautiful part of all of this is rather than "being named," which objectifies us as people, the right to name ourselves is an exercise in being powerful human subjects, authors of our own identities and destinies. Expressed differently, the act of self-determination disrupts the harmful aspects of Western colonization like individualism, extractivism, and viewing Mother Earth as expendable. 

If you have any doubt about this, check out the US wildfire, smoke map: Track latest wildfires, red flag warnings across the US. It's so sad to learn of the terrible devastation with animals losing their habitats and lives and folks losing their homes, well-being, and in some instances, their very lives.

These epistemologies or ways of knowing, have not served any of us or the planet well. Please don't misunderstand. Collectivism, the opposite of individualism, is fully compatible with innovation, freedom, and autonomy.

Indigeneity helps us to get connected to the root of our identities where the knowledge and wisdom of our ancestors and community reside.

-Angela Valenzuela

Latino, Hispanic, Latinx, Chicano: The History Behind the Terms

The effort to coin a term to describe a wildly diverse group of Americans has long stirred controversy.

by Yara Simón

September 25, 2023 | Original: September 14, 2020

History.com

The terms Latino, Hispanic and Latinx are often used interchangeably to describe a group that makes up about 19 percent of the U.S. population. While it’s now common to use umbrella terms to categorize those with ties to more than 20 Latin American countries, these words haven’t always fostered a sense of community among the people they’re supposed to describe.

Before activists, the media and government officials worked to group these identities into one, they were seen as separate. Puerto Ricans and Mexicans, for example, lived in different parts of the country and had their own distinct political and cultural identities.

Yet, as long as there have been people from Latin American countries living in the United States, there have been words to describe them. Some have fallen out of favor, while others have evolved. And many of them have a history as complicated as trying to unify multiple nationalities under one banner.

'Hispanic' Helps Unify Communities, Agenda

Juana Arias/The Washington Post via Getty Images

Grace Flores-Hughes, who claims to have come up with the term Hispanic for the Census, pictured at her Alexandria home in 2003.

The first time the federal government used the word Hispanic in a census was 1980. The appearance of the term was borne from decades of lobbying. “It took the debates of the 1970s, the protests of the late 1960s to get us to 1980,” explains G. Cristina Mora, a sociology professor at UC Berkeley and author of Making Hispanics: How Activists, Bureaucrats, and Media Constructed a New American.

Before 1980, those of Latin American descent were considered Spanish-speaking, having Spanish origin or white on the census. The latter frustrated Mexican-American activists because they had no data to prove that their communities needed resources for programs, such as job training. The National Council of La Raza, known today as Unidos US, led in lobbying the Census Bureau to change the way it categorized Latinos and uniting Puerto Ricans and Mexicans to “hammer out a Hispanic agenda.”

“In the late 1960s and early 1970s as people in the Census Bureau and bureaucrats in the Nixon administration were thinking about what this new group would be called, Hispanic became a term that people thought would probably be well-known because it was linked to hispano,” Mora says. “But Hispanic was helpful because it seemed more American.”

Hispanic refers to those from Spain and other Spanish-speaking countries, which excludes Brazilians. Grace Flores-Hughes, who worked as a secretary in what was then known as the Department of Health, Education and Welfare, has said she coined the term. However, as Mora explains, it’s possible that Hispanic was in use before then.

While 1980 marked a milestone, this pan-ethnic term didn’t really catch on until about the 1990s. By then, there had been two rounds of censuses and the media, particularly Univision and Telemundo, had helped to unite these communities.

“It wasn’t just activists and it wasn’t just bureaucrats,” Mora says. “It was certain figures like Telemundo, Univision, who had a huge vested interest in connecting their audiences across the country and having those audiences across the country see themselves as one market.”

'Latino' as Alternative to 'Hispanic'

While Hispanic may have utility, the term has been criticized for highlighting Spain, which colonized much of Latin America. Some have offered “Latino” as an alternative. This term refers to those from Latin America, meaning it includes Brazil but not Spain.

The word existed long before the 1960s. But Ramón A. Gutiérrez, a Preston & Sterling Morton Distinguished Service Professor of United States history at the University of Chicago, explains that it was previously a Spanish-language word that came from Latino America, which Colombian writer José María Torres Caicedo helped popularize.

“Latino is short for Latino Americano,” he says. “And it’s the result of what happens between 1808 and 1821 as the Latin American countries become independent.”

In the second half of the 19th century, the abbreviated words “hispano” and “latino” were in use in California among Spanish speakers, but eventually, other terms replaced them. By 1920, they had “virtually disappeared,” Gutiérrez writes.

The term Latino gradually re-emerged in English, appearing in books and even in a 1970 White House diary entry by Claudia “Lady Bird” Johnson. In another early example, a March 17, 1973 issue of the Black Panther Party’s newspaper described a program drawn up by an “action group composed of Blacks, Latinos and Whites.” By 2000, Latino was on the census, with the question, “Is this person Spanish/Hispanic/Latino?”

Though Latino deemphasized the connection to Spain, some still rejected the term as it attempted to group several distinct cultures into one. For example, a popular bumper sticker declaring, “Don’t Call Me Hispanic, I’m Cuban!” circulated in Miami during the early 1990s, according to Mora. In many cases, those who didn’t want to identify as Hispanic or Latino chose nationality.

A 2019 survey by the Pew Research Center found that 47 percent of respondents most often describe themselves by their family’s country of origin, while 39 percent use the terms Latino or Hispanic and 14 percent most often describe themselves as American.

Some Mexican-Americans Embrace 'Chicano'

Bettmann Archive/Getty Images

Mexican-Americans hold a rally at the California state capitol to protest discrimination. This group marched 600 miles from Calexico.

For some Mexicans who shunned Latino and Hispanic, this meant turning to the word “Chicano.”

There are a few theories about the origins of Chicano, including that it comes from mexicano (pronounced meshicano), a word that some “groups of Nahuas (Indigenous speakers of Nahuatl) began calling their language,” writes David Bowles, an author and professor at the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley.

Another possibility is that Chicano is a result of hypocorism. “It’s basically using baby talk,” Bowles says. “If you think about nicknames, Spanish nicknames, if you’re Ignacio, you’re called ‘Nacho.’ Graciela, you’re called ‘Chela.’ It’s possible that that could be some type of hypocorism behind the change from mexicano to Chicano—a playful kind of thing.”

One of the first mentions of Chicano in print is in Spanish-language newspaper La Crónica in 1911, where it was used as a slur against “less cultured” Mexican Americans and recent immigrants. But by the 1960s, the word had changed. While not every Mexican or Mexican American would use the term, it gained traction, including among Mexican Americans who were fighting for civil rights.

“Because the word was in regular use at that time,” Bowles says, “it was kind of this way of reclaiming the slur and using it for a political Latinx identity.”

'Latinx' Emerges as Gender-Neutral Term

Spanish is a gendered language. If there is a group made up of women, they can be described as “ellas.” If there is a group with men and women, it defaults to the masculine (ellos instead of ellas). The word “Latino” follows this convention, labeling nouns as either masculine or feminine. For those who fall outside the gender binary, this word fails to represent them, which is where the gender neutral “Latinx” comes into play.

Much like the other words used to describe those of Latin American descent, Latinx has faced some pushback—from arguments that it’s difficult to pronounce to the Real Academia Española, the institution tasked with maintaining the consistency of the Spanish language, saying it’s unnecessary. Some even argued non-Latino whites imposed the word on Latinos.

Bowles argues against this notion. “White people did not make up Latinx,” he says. “It was queer Latinx people... They are the ones who used the word. Our little subgroup of the community created that. It was created by English-speaking U.S. Latinx people for use in English conversation.”

Though it’s unclear when or how it began, it’s mostly tied to the early 2000s, with it reportedly appearing on Google Trends in 2004. There are a few possibilities about how the word came to be. One theory is that Latin American protests inspired the word. From the 1970s to the 1990s, as feminists protested, they would X out words ending in “OS” to “visually… reject the notion that the default is the masculine,” Bowles says. It could have also been a nod to the use of X during the civil rights movement in the United States.

Despite an August 2021 Gallup poll finding that only 4 percent of Hispanic Americans use Latinx, it’s a term that gained momentum through the 2010s and 2020s, cropping on TV shows and in politics.

 

‘Heartbreaking to Be Collateral’ in the Battle Over DEI [at UT Austin], Inside Higher Education, July 29, 2024

However sad and angry it makes me feel, I am so glad to see Shawntal Z. Brown speak her truth about how she directly experienced UT's recent anti-DEI implementation as a consequence of Senate Bill 17 passed by the 2023 Texas Legislature. Shawntal is a a doctoral student pursuing her Ph.D. in the Department of Educational Leadership and Policy where I work and was one of the staff members who was recently laid off at UT Austin, having worked for the university on DEI initiatives for seven years.

She represents several other students in our department who all of a sudden lost their funding as a result of the passage and implementation of Senate Bill 17. Not all students of color, this has impacted them significantly, most immediately with them having to figure out how they will get their education funded so that they may complete their degrees. Yes, a crisis for these unfortunate students and other staff who, as you can read from the narrative, were summarily dismissed. It has all been atrocious...

Shawntal is correct that we need to stay on top of the evidence that gauges the impact of the policy while noting that an absence of DEI initiatives deprives students, particularly the non-traditional ones, of a sense of belonging and identity.

I would suggest to all such students that they lean into our Ethnic Studies programs and departments, including the Department of African American and African Diaspora Studies, the Department of Mexican American and Latino Studies, the Department of Asian American Studies, and the Native American and Indigenous Studies Program at UT. Regardless of your major, you can take courses and find community. 

-Angela Valenzuela

‘Heartbreaking to Be Collateral’ in the Battle Over DEI

Shawntal Z. Brown worked for UT Austin for seven years before she was laid off in April, along with dozens of colleagues. The move shocked her—and changed her views on working in higher education.

Months after SB 17 went into effect in Texas, UT Austin laid off several staff members who previously worked in DEI on campus, including Shawntal Z. Brown, pictured above.

Photo illustration by Justin Morrison/Inside Higher Ed | Shawntal Z. Brown | RoschetzkyIstockPhoto/iStock/Getty Images | Texas Senate

By  Johanna Alonso | July 29, 2024

The University of Texas at Austin made headlines in April when it laid off approximately 60 staff members, most of them in diversity, equity and inclusion–related roles, in what the institution called an effort to comply with SB 17, the state’s new anti-DEI law. Though it was far from the only university impacted by DEI bans nationwide, most other institutions retained their DEI office staff in new roles or eliminated only a small number of positions. UT Austin’s decision was also noteworthy because it came months after the ban went into effect.

Shawntal Z. Brown, a UT Austin employee of seven years as well as a graduate student pursuing her Ph.D. in educational leadership and policy at the university, was one of the individuals affected. In an interview with Inside Higher Ed, Brown shared her experiences leading up to the implementation of SB 17 and the subsequent layoffs. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Q: What did your previous job entail?

A: I was mostly focused on bias response. My office was trying to [support] folks who are experiencing that type of discrimination, in addition to folks who wanted to make sure that their classrooms or their work environment or their interactions with their peers are inclusive, making sure folks felt a sense of belonging at the institution.

Q: When it became evident that offices were closing and things were going to change, what did the university initially tell you?

A: I would say from an institutional viewpoint, not much. From the president, we didn’t really have that type of conversation with him. I know my supervisor and folks who are in different areas were talking more with the legal team. We had more conversations with the vice president of our division.

I felt like there was a disconnect in some way, of hearing from the president himself with what he was wanting to do or what the vision was, and I felt like in real time, that [was] missing. That’s kind of a disappointment; I wish there was more conversation there.

Q: UT Austin got a lot of attention for being one of the few that let a lot of staff go as a result of this. Was there worry that that was going to happen?

A: It took me by surprise; I think it took all of us by surprise. I think for folks that I was close with, [including some] senior leaders, there was a lot of trust that the president or the administration wouldn’t go in that route [and would] really try to retain us. I always told people, “The division is about 20 years old, and so it’s been a pretty big staple at the institution. So, it would be pretty profound if that happened to us.”

But when that did happen, I think it was just a shock, because I think we thought we were going to be safe in some way. It just really came abruptly that that was going to be the end of it.

Q: How did you find out?

A: They used our VP’s email to put the invite on our calendars, and so, you would imagine, “Oh, yeah, that’s our VP maybe wanted to chat with us about something.” And then our HR department leaders are in there, and then they tell us all [that] we’re being let go.

It was definitely like a gut punch of, “Wow, I, one, didn’t expect that this was going to be the end of our division in this way and then also the end of our positions, because I’ve been at UT a little less than 10 years.” I was like, “Wow, this is really heartbreaking to, I guess, essentially be collateral amid all of the political pressures.”

Within the way the HR team facilitated it, it just was not adequate care, in my opinion. The meeting lasted like six minutes of them telling us that we were being let go. It was just something where I was like, there wasn’t any care, or [there was] just a lack of intentionality behind the whole process of letting us go. Later that day the institution sent out a letter about what happened. People didn’t understand the grandeur of, this means staff is gone. People were reaching out to us individually and asking like, “What does this mean?” And we had to tell them, “This is what it means.” So it was very much done in a way that just wasn’t thoughtful, and I think that really definitely just hurt.

Q: From your perspective, was it necessary to close offices and centers to comply with the new law? Did the university make an attempt to preserve anything or is there a sense that they sort of took the easiest way out?

A: I don’t know if there were efforts to really try to preserve the offices within the division, unfortunately. I feel that there was an opportunity to do so. With the pressure that the president felt from the bill author, I felt like that was probably the easiest route, to get rid of it all. But I think there could have been a lot of potential in having certain offices shifted around and moved around, because essentially, that was what they did. A lot of offices that were under the division [were moved] into other spaces, and I feel like all units could have been saved in that same way.

But I don’t know if that was really thought of, because we were moving so quickly to try to be compliant and try to move forward and kind of still attempt to do the same work.

Q: Do you think the renamed centers are a good solution? Do they do a good job of preserving the work of the offices that have been closed or do you worry that they could be watering down that work?

A: For me, it’s a yes and a no. I know in certain spaces, the staff that were formerly doing equity work were able to be retained and that’s really great and I’m glad they were. [They’re] just making their missions a bit more expansive.

But it doesn’t necessarily get at why these offices were created in the first place. Institutions were predominantly white, and they needed these spaces to recruit and retain underrepresented student populations. I think that is something where there might be some tension moving forward with these offices of like, how can you still recruit these students and engage with the students and provide programming and still kind of have that same effect or maybe a similar effect?

All I’m really saying is, it’s complicated. I think it makes it really hard within higher education to still keep the integrity of the spaces, and then also be protective of these spaces at the same time.

Q: Did the experience of losing your job because of DEI bans influence how you’re thinking of your future career? Are you worried about going back into a similar role in the future?

A: A yes and a no. I think I’m just nervous about what’s next. I know here in Texas, faculty senates [are] on the docket for the next legislative session. What does that look like for folks who might be wanting to do DEI in a professor context? And that is kind of a scary thought. So, I think in some ways, it makes [me hesitate] to go into a different role.

But I’m also trying to find roles and spaces that, at least, if I can’t do the work directly, I can do it adjacently. So maybe it’s me working with a specific population, maybe it’s me doing something more in the city or nonprofit, and maybe it’s not in education at all or something education-adjacent. But I think there are ways that I could probably show up in spaces that are still related to the work I want to do. But I’m just trying to think more broadly about where I could do it.

Q: A lot of campuses in red states across the country have closed DEI offices. An argument I often hear against cultural centers is that it’s discriminatory to have a space that is for one type of person and not have something equivalent for another. What are your thoughts on that?

A: It’s two prongs. In a cultural center space, or in a DEI-specific space, I’ve been telling folks, these are spaces that are truly meant for everyone. I think in the case of like, underrepresented students, whether it be LGBTQIA [students], women students, Black students, first gen—it’s just because these students are the ones who realize that they need support, they have needs, and they recognize these spaces as resources, and they will show up to them to help themselves.

In addition, these cultural spaces have developed because of students and their way of protesting and wanting to have these spaces. The university started out as just white men going into these institutions, and so, that in and of itself has taken so many years for different populations, groups, identities, to even be at an institution. These spaces are so, so important for these student groups. I always like to re-emphasize to people, just because you see a certain group or population in that space doesn’t mean you can’t come into it.

I think how you come into those spaces matters, too—if [you] come in with a whole different perspective, wanting to engage and learn, wanting to genuinely be there, versus having that intent behind it to be disruptive or rude or inappropriate, that would be different. It’s how you introduce spaces that really matters and to understand the history as to why those spaces were created.

Q: What do you see as the path forward from here? Is this going to be sort of the new normal, where colleges don’t have cultural centers and have to find ways to incorporate the resources elsewhere on campus? Or do you see other solutions for building this back?

A: I feel like there’s some type of student protest, or some type of student outcry that will probably happen in the future. [Right now], we’re able to see, the immediate aftermath of all this anti-DEI legislation is people really saying, “I’m hurting, I lost a mentor, lost a class I really love, I lost a space that I really enjoyed being in, or graduation’s not the same.” I hate to have to be this way, but you have to see … the impact in campus climate surveys, or the [amount] of discrimination is higher, now, or we’re not getting as much money, or our retention rates are dropping. I think those tangible numbers and that data has to inform why this is a problem. And then maybe something of a solution can come from it.

I think there have been some solutions to the problem with the expansion of certain offices and what they do with the programming, but I think the larger issue of sense of belonging will definitely show itself. And I feel like those in order for whatever future office will come out of all of this to be present, I think those tangible numbers and data will definitely come first and then the outcry to be able to kind of swing back in that way of getting those spaces again or some type of version of it.