Motivated by national tragedies, first-gen sophomore dreams of future as a changemaker


October 7, 2020

Arizona State University sophomore Halle Aquino was born in 2001, on the heels of 9/11. Just 11 years later, when she was in sixth grade, 26 people tragically died in the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. Unbeknownst to her, these devastating events and others would shape her path forever.

“I remember the day that the Sandy Hook shooting happened in 2012, I was watching the news and I couldn’t comprehend how something so cruel could happen at an elementary school just like mine,” Aquino said. “And then the Las Vegas shooting at Mandalay Bay in 2017 struck more close to home because my family always traveled there when I was younger. That was the breaking point for me. It motivated me to set myself out on this path and actually do the work that will make change.” Arizona State University sophomore Halle Aquino, a first-generation college student studying political science and public policy. Download Full Image

For Aquino, change means pursuing dual bachelor’s degrees in political science and public policy so she can one day tackle a variety of issues on a local and national scale. As a first-generation college student from a small town near Tucson, she said the opportunity to attend a university wasn’t guaranteed; earning several scholarships including the PepsiCo Foundation Scholarship, the New American University Scholar award and the President Barack Obama Scholar award provided the financial support she needed to go to ASU.

“If it weren't for the scholarships that I received, I would not be here,” she said. “I knew from the get-go in my freshman year of high school that if I didn’t work hard enough to get any academic scholarships, I would not be going to college. So I made that a priority and I put school over everything. I'm so glad that I did and I’m grateful that I got the opportunity to come here and fulfill my dream of being a college student.”

In The College of Liberal Arts and Sciences’ Early Start program, an immersive two-week-long university experience for incoming first-year students, she was able to create a solid foundation for future success. Upon starting college, she said she was unsure of what to expect, but the program provided her a plethora of advice and resources on how to succeed as a student and as a growing professional within the field of political science.

When she’s not in class, Aquino works as a customer support peer with ASU’s Career and Professional Development Services. She said she finds it rewarding to help people of all backgrounds navigate their way to success. Along with being a full-time student and working as a customer support peer, she also interns with Undergraduate Student Government where she assists directors, contributes ideas for improvement at ASU, and ensures the student body is able to express their needs and concerns.

Aquino said she tries to push herself to do things outside her comfort zone, like participating in weekly meetings for BridgeASU, a student organization committed to debating the issues that face the U.S. while challenging conventional approaches to argumentation. 

“It's not always fun getting yourself to do things that you don't want to do, that you're scared of or anxious about, it can definitely be very challenging. But it is the most rewarding thing you can do and it will only push you to grow and be your best, highest self,” she said.

She has found herself in other unpredictable situations during her time at ASU, including attending classes during the COVID-19 pandemic. In March, she moved back home to finish the spring semester online and said it was a surprisingly positive, transformative experience for her.

“Without this switch to online learning, I would have never known that I am equally as strong of a learner online and in-person. I ended up doing better academically in the spring than I did in my first semester,” she said. “The time I had to myself outside of school during the lockdown was the most reflective experience I've ever had in my life. There had never been a time for me to really sit back and evaluate the progress I’ve made in my 18 years of living. My life had always been so fast-paced that being able to rest and take time for myself was something I never truly learned to do and value.”

Although she is unsure where her path will lead professionally, she said wherever she ends up she hopes to be a catalyst for change.

“I hope to one day end up in a position where I'm not only happy in what I'm doing but also where I am a changemaker for a large group of people,” she said. “I don't know what that will look like exactly quite yet, but I just want to know I am doing the best that I can for the greater good of society.”

Emily Balli

Communications Specialist and Lead Writer, The College of Liberal Arts and Sciences

Honoring a trailblazer during National Hispanic Heritage Month

ASU's Jean Andino was one of the first Hispanic women in the U.S. to become a tenured engineering faculty member


October 6, 2020

Jean Andino can never forget the wide-eyed look of shock on students’ faces.

She’d been invited to speak to students affiliated with the City College of New York’s Louis Stokes Alliance for Minority Participation Program. In her talk, she described her life growing up in a struggling neighborhood in the Bronx, a borough of New York City where college can seem like an impossible dream. Colorful textiles in honor of National Hispanic Heritage Month Download Full Image

Yet Andino not only went to college, she earned a prestigious Ivy League degree in engineering sciences at Harvard University and a doctorate in chemical engineering at the California Institute of Technology. 

“You grew up where?” students asked. “And you still made it to Harvard? How did you do that?”

Throughout her career, Andino, interim director of Arizona State University's Hispanic Research Center and associate professor in the School for Engineering of Matter, Transport and Energy, defied the odds to find success.

She was the first woman to be promoted and tenured in the history of the Environmental Engineering Sciences program at the University of Florida. A Puerto Rican, she received a Society of Hispanic Professional Engineers STAR Educator of the Year Award in 2017, when she estimated she was one of only 15 mainland U.S.-born Latinas in tenured or tenure-track engineering faculty positions in the nation. 

She’s earned numerous prestigious national awards, including a Fulbright U.S. Scholar Award, three NASA Space Act Awards and a National Science Foundation CAREER Award. 

Headshot of

Jean Andino

To honor National Hispanic Heritage Month, which runs Sept. 15 to Oct. 15, we spoke to Andino about her trailblazing career and why she’s so passionate about her role at the Hispanic Research Center. The research unit of The College of Liberal Arts and Sciences serves as a hub for academic exploration and distribution of resources in areas of importance to the Hispanic culture, both at the university and the community at large. 

“The Hispanic Research Center is important because it provides a forum for people to understand the great diversity that exists within the Hispanic culture,” she said. 

Home to an extensive collection of work by Hispanic artists, the center has showcased its collection through a variety of art shows, exhibitions and tours. For the first time in its 35-year history, the center is now hosting a virtual art exhibit titled “Mixing It Up.”

Alfredo Arreguín's painting,

Alfredo Arreguín's painting "Return to Aztlán," featured in the "Mixing It Up" virtual art exhibit.

“As an engineer, I’m a big tech fan, so a virtual art exhibit totally makes sense,” she said. “Despite the pandemic, there still are some incredible opportunities to make connections where we might not normally make connections.”

Andino knows the value of connections in life. As she navigated her successful academic and professional career, trusted mentors were always by her side.

At the Bronx High School of Science, she first discovered her passion for engineering in a physics class that combined learning science with real-life applications. She honed her skills in mechanical drafting and created a cigar box ukulele as her first design build. 

“As a high schooler, taking science and applying it was the start of everything for me,” she said.

“When I left Harvard, I felt like I had the theoretical background I needed to succeed,” she said. “Harvard prepared me very well — to be broadminded in my engineering thinking and to be able to relate to people of different backgrounds. What I didn’t feel like I had was the full confidence to take some of that knowledge and translate it into something useful for the engineering field.”

She entered the male-dominated auto industry to work at Ford Motor Company, where her work focused on removing air pollutants. She characterized the reactions taking place on novel materials to be used in catalytic converters and determining the ambient air quality impacts of fuels and alternative fuels. After working for Ford for two years, she deepened her expertise at the California Institute of Technology, where she earned a doctorate degree in chemical engineering and her adviser encouraged her to teach at the university level. 

At ASU, Andino and her research team develop innovative solutions to air quality issues, such as air pollution control techniques and devices and pollutant-sensing technologies. Actively engaged in patenting and commercialization efforts, she is also a prolific author of journal articles and has served on high-profile boards, including multiple National Academies panels. 

As an associate professor, she teaches classes on air quality engineering and chemical reactor design, among others. She says one of her most rewarding roles is serving as a mentor to all students, particularly those who are traditionally underrepresented in science and engineering.

At her talk at the City College of New York, she first heard the magical words: “You’ve inspired me to go one step further than I would have thought of going.”

“Those are the conversations I live for as a faculty member,” said Andino, who relishes telling her story to underrepresented students to empower them to pursue their dreams and accomplish their goals. “Other than teaching, where else can you get that type of experience?”

5 noteworthy Hispanic and Latino contributions to society

We asked Andino for her top five picks of Hispanic and Latino contributions to American society. 

  1. La Borinqueña, the first Latina superhero, featured in the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. (La Borinqueña is also the title of Puerto Rico’s national anthem.)
  2. Sonia Sotomayor, the first Hispanic and Latina member of the U.S. Supreme Court.
  3. The cybersecurity CAPTCHA technology invented and patented by Luis von Ahn from Guatemala.
  4. Musical artists that have influenced genres, including Marc Anthony (Puerto Rican), Celia Cruz (Cuban), Tito Puente (Puerto Rican from New York City), Rubén Blades (Panamanian) and El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico.
  5. The patent for a chemical that forms the basis of one of the first oral contraceptives was invented by a chemist from Mexico, Luis Miramontes.

What’s the difference between Hispanic and Latino?

Hispanic and Latino are often used interchangeably, though they actually mean different things. 

  • Latino refers to a person of Latin American descent who is living in the U.S. “Latinx” is also sometimes used as a gender-neutral term in lieu of Latino or Latina.
  • Hispanic describes a person who speaks Spanish, descended from a Spanish-speaking country, or both. 
Lori Baker

Communications Specialist, Knowledge Enterprise

 
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Scholars discuss the intersection of 'Shakespeare and Indigeneity'

October 2, 2020

In 1767, nine chiefs from the Cherokee Nation were invited to New York City to view a performance of Shakespeare’s “Richard III.” Exactly what they thought of the play, rife as it is with themes of power and fatalism, has been debated throughout history.

But Ayanna Thompson, director of the Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies at Arizona State University, referenced the anecdote in her introduction to the Sept. 30 “Shakespeare and Indigeneity” event, one of several virtual public talks to be held by the center this fall.

“There's a long history of employing Shakespeare's texts and performances as part of a colonial weapon against Indigenous Americans,” Thompson said, adding that “there’s also a complex history of Indigenous adaptation, appropriation and reclamation of Shakespeare's texts, poems and performances, including in the work of our three distinguished speakers.”

Those speakers were Scott Stevens, a member of the Mohawk Tribe and an associate professor of English at Syracuse University; Madeline Sayet, a member of the Mohegan Tribe and the executive director of the Yale Indigenous Performing Arts Program; and ASU’s own Natalie Diaz, a member of the Gila River Indian Tribe, an internationally acclaimed poet and MacArthur Fellow, a professor of English and the director of the Center for Imagination in the Borderlands.

For the next hour, they discussed such questions as how Shakespeare’s works might benefit from being examined by Indigenous voices and how they personally engage with Shakespeare in their own work and teaching.

For Stevens, his first encounter with Shakespeare came in the form of a large volume of the playwright’s works that his mother kept from her college days on a towering book shelf in their living room. He recalled being daunted by the size of the tome but not discouraged.

“Because it was coming from my mother, it didn’t seem foreign,” said Stevens, whose father is white.

The first time he viewed an actual performance, of director Franco Zeffirelli’s 1968 film adaptation of “Romeo and Juliet” when he was just 12 years old, Stevens recalls being “mesmerized by the language.”

Diaz didn’t become familiar with the Bard until her days at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Virginia, where she took a course taught by the late, renowned Shakespeare expert Imtiaz Habib. The fact that he was not white made an impression on her.

“I came in as an athlete having never read these kinds of things, and I wasn’t a poet then,” Diaz said. “So it was my first kind of engagement with really looking at a text and a language. In some ways, it was probably the beginning of my returning to my Mohave language.”

Later, when Diaz returned to her native Arizona, she would joke with friends as they crossed the London Bridge in Lake Havasu City – which formerly spanned the River Thames in London before being dismantled and rebuilt in Arizona in 1967 – that perhaps they were walking on the same stones Shakespeare had once trodden.

“I like that notion … of walking over the London Bridge and (thinking) maybe Shakespeare walked there, too,” Stevens said, “because our cultures were certainly doing things at the same time Shakespeare was alive, and for better or for worse, were sometimes even engaged with each other.”

In his teaching, Stevens makes a point to remind his students of that.

“Early modern European culture and early modern Indigenous culture co-existed,” he said. “When Shakespeare was writing the sonnets in the 1590s, Europe had been in contact with the Americas for a hundred years. … So I've always resisted this notion that Europe brought early modernity to the New World. Early modernity was created mutually by that contact with each other and so on. So I want students to be aware when we're talking about that literary period or historical period, that Native Indigenous North Americans and Europeans are both players on this stage.”

Speaking of stages, Sayet, who has directed an impressive catalogue of plays and operas, had some thoughts to share in response to an audience question about whether Native actors should include Shakespeare in their training.

“Include Shakespeare, but not first,” she said. Sayet believes Native actors should develop their own voice first, and then begin to incorporate Shakespeare.

“Shakespeare is the most produced playwright in America,” Sayet continued. “So if an actor wants a career, it can be useful, but (it is necessary to) create the circumstances in which, as folks are training, they're not colonizing their voice at the beginning of the process, because that, I think, can be very damaging to the empowerment of Native actors in the field.

“But I do think that being able to work in as many venues as possible … and having Native actors that can do everything is also important, because that's how we bring our perspectives to all these spaces.”

One such instance in which Native actors brought their perspectives to Shakespeare took place in the early 2000s in Juno, Alaska, when the National Museum of the American Indian staged a performance of “Macbeth,” and Stevens was there to witness it.

“A telling thing they did was leave all the speeches about overweening ambition and selfishness in English, but all the stuff about community was in TlingitTlingit is the language of the Indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast of North America who go by the same name.,” he said. “(They did that) because (the community themed content) was echoing something that was a value that was absolutely recognizable (to the Indigenous audience).”

Diaz added her thoughts on the subject of Indigenous interpretations of Shakespeare in academia, saying, “I do think there are some things that don’t translate or should never (translate). Certain knowledges that (belong to one group of people). But (Shakespeare) is such a giant body of study in the academy … and it feels necessary to bring it into these Indigenous spaces and see where it fails (and where it succeeds).”

Top photo courtesy of Pixabay

 
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ASU Law creates legacy of women holding top posts at law journals

October 2, 2020

Number of female students named to prestigious editor-in-chief role grows consistently over the last several years

The Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law at Arizona State University has established a growing prominence of female editors-in-chief for its law journals, part of an ongoing effort to advance equality in the field of law.

For almost the last decade, a female student has led the college’s primary publication, the Arizona State Law Journal, with Delilah Cassidy now serving as its editor-in-chief. Joining her in this tradition is Vanessa Pomeroy, who recently became the next woman to serve as editor-in-chief of Jurimetrics, the No. 1 peer-reviewed law journal for science, technology, engineering and math fields in the United States. Additionally, Julieta Carrillo is editor-in-chief for the Law Journal for Social Justice, also published by ASU Law.

Beyond gender, being an editor-in-chief means you have to stay on your toes, said Cassidy, a third-year law student and former sports journalist. She oversees a staff of 40 writers at the Arizona State Law Journal, works with an editorial board of 43 law students, and publishes four times a year.

“Being a member of a law journal exposes you to intellectual issues that go beyond the classroom,” Cassidy said. “It’s also a chance for me to write beyond simple legal briefs. I’m able to tap into that creativity I used as a journalist and focus on a specific issue.”

Added Pomeroy, who joins the growing list of women in the top Jurimetrics post for the last five years: “It is a privilege to serve as the editor-in-chief during a year where we have so many female editors with STEM backgrounds and interests in law, science and technology. One of my goals as editor-in-chief of Jurimetrics is to encourage women to pursue careers in STEM and the legal profession. If I could tell the next generation of women in these professions one thing, it would be this: ‘Your involvement matters, so come join us at the table.’”

Carrillo, a third-year law student, took over as editor-in-chief in March for the Law Journal for Social Justice. “As a Mexican American, first-generation college student, I obviously find it incredible that women are holding editor-in-chief positions at ASU Law,” Carrillo said. “I think culture shock is something you experience in law school as a minority, and being a woman definitely added to that pressure that was already so tangible and solidified. I am excited that women are taking advantage of editor-in-chief positions to the same extent as men.”

According to Law.com, women now hold editor-in-chief positions at the 16 most elite law reviews in the country. At ASU Law, the trend began many years ago with the Arizona State Law Journal naming Patricia A. Metzger as its editor-in-chief in 1974. In the last decade, eight of its leaders have been women. 

The Arizona State Law Journal

The Arizona State Law Journal was established in 1969 and is considered the flagship journal at the college. It seeks to promote development of the law by publishing scholarly articles on timely legal issues. Topics include corporate law, intellectual property, sports entertainment, ballot initiatives, criminal law and even COVID-19.

It also provides a forum for legal scholars and practitioners and a resource for use in their work, and an opportunity for ASU Law students to engage in legal research and commentary.

“If you want to become a professor, what’s really important is getting published,” Cassidy said. “It’s a huge stepping-off point to expedite a career path.”

Cassidy said the law journals help gild the reputation of the college, specifically when it comes to school ranking. The college placed at No. 24 on this year's U.S. News & World Report best law school rankings, the highest placement in ASU Law’s history.

The 2021 rankings marked the continued ascension of ASU Law, which had hovered in the 50s throughout the early 2000s before making a steady climb into the top 25. 

“We’ve seen the reputation of the law school improve with the conjunction of the journals,” said Cassidy, who will join Phoenix-based law firm Snell & Wilmer after graduation. “ASU Law and the Arizona State Legal Journal carries a big name and garners a good reputation.”

Jurimetrics

Jurimetrics is the leading peer-reviewed law journal that analyzes and predicts the legal issues associated with advances in science and technology. It owes its success to a team of brilliant national and international authors and exceptionally talented editorial staff, Pomeroy said.

“I joined Jurimetrics because the intersection between law, science and technology involves cutting-edge issues that are rarely addressed in core law school classes,” she said. “Through Jurimetrics I've gained lifelong friendships, and found mentors in our faculty adviser and Associate Dean Diana Bowman and Managing Editor Deborah Pogson.”

Bowman said Jurimetrics celebrated its 60th anniversary in December 2019 and historically has been run by men. But that has shifted and evolved since she became faculty adviser in 2016.

“Until my tenure as faculty adviser, the leadership positions of Jurimetrics were primarily held by men,” said Bowman, who noted that five of the last six Jurimetrics editors-in-chief have been women. “So many times when we think of the legal profession, we don’t think of women in leadership roles at the nexus of law, technology and innovation. Giving women a shot in these roles helps prepare them for leadership positions when they graduate.”

Being an editor-in-chief is also a marketable commodity and stands out on a resume because of the skills acquired.

“An editor-in-chief demonstrates leadership by example, teamwork, timelines, clear communication, allocation and motivation,” Bowman said. She added those are the traits that Pomeroy has already displayed in her short tenure at Jurimetrics.

“What’s most impressive is the fact that Vanessa has not personally met with her board or the staff at large because of COVID-19, but is able to virtually keep a sense of community and excitement through her outreach and engagement,” Bowman said. “She’s doing a lot of heavy lifting and working at 200 percent.”

The Law Journal for Social Justice

With the March timing of Carrillo’s appointment as editor-in-chief for the Law Journal for Social Justice, the pandemic forced her to work remotely as she was tasked to form a new board, grade applications and invite new members to join the journal, which publishes twice a year.

“I think the biggest surprise that arose from my position as editor-in-chief was learning how to delegate duties in the virtual world we now live in,” Carrillo said. “Our orientation had to be done over Zoom, and I tried my best to form some type of connection with everyone, but it is hard to read a room through a screen. Although the circumstances are less than ideal, our new members seem to be excited to jump on board and cite-checks are proceeding smoothly. I have learned that you can make the most of being in a demanding position by just being transparent with everyone around you and adjusting as best as you can to new environments.”

In addition to overseeing the publication of two issues in 2020, Carrillo edits the journal’s blog site and will host a spring symposium focused on climate migration. She said being the editor-in-chief has shown her how to be a leader and be more assertive, while improving her network and gaining lifelong friends.

“You have to be a hard worker to achieve positions like these, and simply being diverse is not going to land you a spot,” Carrillo said. “I ran against another minority woman and a minority man for my position, so I think any one of us would have been deserving of the position.”

In total, ASU Law produces five journals. The ASU Corporate Business Journal and Sports and Entertainment Law Journal the other two publications.

Top photo: (From left) Delilah Cassidy is the editor-in-chief of the Arizona State Law Journal; Julieta Carillo is editor-in-chief of Law Journal for Social Justice and Vanessa Pomeroy is editor-in-chief of Jurimetrics: The Journal of Law, Science, and Technology. 

Reporter , ASU Now

480-727-5176

A people’s man, a man’s legacy

ASU Library to be gifted documents about historical community figure Emmett McLoughlin for archives


September 30, 2020

The Arizona State University Library is about to receive new documents for archival and housing in their facilities. Upon first glance, the filing box that has stored these documents may not look like much, but inside are yellowed carbon papers, laminated news clippings, scanned documents, first-edition books and handwritten letters all chronicling the history of a Phoenix landmark and the man who helped build it.

These documents follow the life and legacy of Emmett McLoughlin, the founder of Saint Monica’s Hospital in Phoenix, which later became the Phoenix Memorial Hospital on Buckeye Road and Seventh Avenue. The hospital housed the first racially integrated nursing school west of the Mississippi River in the United States and ultimately became the first medical care facility for poor communities in Arizona.  Photo of an old newspaper announcing Emmett McLoughlin had quit the priesthood An old Arizona Republic newspaper announcing Emmett McLoughlin's resignation from the Catholic priesthood. Photo courtesy of Rachel Bunning. Download Full Image

The hidden history contained in these papers were almost thrown out, but were saved by McLoughlin’s close colleague and friend Mary Neal Bennett. Bennett knew the documents were important and worked to make sure they were preserved and taken care of. She entrusted them to her good friend Barbara Lambesis, who is donating them to ASU. Lambesis and Bennett crossed paths when they both worked at the hospital and became good friends.

“(Bennett) was like my second mom, so we stayed very close until she died this last April,” said Lambesis. “She was 92 years old when she passed, so Mary trusted me one day about 11 years ago, she called me up and said, ‘Would you come over, I want to ask you to do something.’”

Bennett knew the significance of McLoughlin's work and waited to do anything with the documents until she knew his legacy would be documented properly. 

McLoughlin’s journey to building the hospital and nursing school was not an easy feat and stirred up some controversy along the way. It all began when he was ordained to the priesthood by the Roman Catholic Church in 1933. He took vows to uphold the church and his faith and changed his name from John Patrick to Emmett in the memory of an Irish saint to symbolize the beginning of his new spiritual life as a Franciscan priest.

A provincial council of the Franciscan Order sent McLoughlin to Saint Mary’s Basilica in Phoenix in 1934 where he was tasked with doing outreach in the community. The community he was sent to serve in Phoenix at the time was primarily poor Black, Hispanic and white people who were struggling to get by.

“And what he saw was this abject poverty,” said Lambesis. “That (people) were living in shacks, if they had a place to live. They were sleeping under the bridges. They had absolutely no health care at all. Women were giving birth to their babies under bridges and in shacks and the mortality rate was horrible.”

McLoughlin decided that to be the best priest he could be, he needed to tend to the people’s physical needs rather than just asking them to come to mass every Sunday. To help, he entered a subscription contest for a local Catholic magazine and won enough money to purchase an old grocery store in the area. The store was renovated into a church and social hall for the members of the community. 

“You can’t heal, you can’t have people turn to their spiritual needs until they have enough to eat, they have a place to stay, they have reasonable health care,” said Lambesis. “So that started him on a mission — so his little community center was called Emmett’s Mission.”

Although he was pleased with the center and the activities it provided to the community, he realized there was no clinic available to tend to people’s severe medical needs, especially the health concerns resulting from the lack of maternity care.

The building adjoined to the community center became the first maternity clinic in Arizona and offered a clean space for women to give birth, at-home birth assistance for free, access to birth control and treatment and testing for venereal diseases.

“It's definitely true that neither Phoenix nor Arizona had a well-developed health care system at the time, and Phoenix itself had fewer than 50,000 people in 1930,” said history professor Catherine O’Donnell, a facilitator of the document donation to ASU. “Because of poverty and discriminatory laws and practices, African Americans, Mexicans and Mexican Americans faced particularly great challenges when seeking health care.”

The church began reaching out to McLoughlin to let him know they were not happy with the medical practices happening within the clinic as it went against the beliefs of the church. At the time, the church did not believe in the use of birth control and believed that people with venereal diseases did not deserve to be treated because their disease was a reflection of their sins. But McLoughlin continued to provide the care despite the church's growing anger.

“It was equipped to be able to help them have their children and survive that ordeal and out of that ordeal came his desire to have a regular little clinic,” said Lambesis. “This community needed to have access to health care.”

He continued the clinic and became well-known as a champion of the community. On top of the clinic and community center, McLoughlin opened up the first playground in the area but wanted to help the community find stable and affordable housing as well. In 1939, he was appointed as the Chaplain of the Arizona House of Representatives and helped pass a bill to use federal funds for a Phoenix city housing project. Once the bill passed, he was appointed as the project's chairman. 

By the time 1940 came around, neither McLoughlin nor the church were happy with his priesthood. He thought they were inconsistent, and they thought he wasn’t representing the church and his faith well. The church still supported segregation and McLoughlin didn’t agree. 

“Although there were exceptions, the Catholic Church in the United States tended to follow the laws and social conventions that made the United States a segregated society,” said O’Donnell. “Some Catholic sisters and priests, among them McLoughlin, believed that their religion called them to challenge segregation, but the institutional church was slow in responding.”

In 1944 he raised enough money to open Saint Monica’s Hospital and nursing school and became the superintendent. The nursing school was the first interracial nursing school in the American West and the hospital was founded on the principles that everyone would be provided for no matter if they had money or not. 

“He had Japanese American, Native American, Black, Hispanic and white women,” said Lambesis. “The women of color and the ethnic groups could relate to the patients even better sometimes because there was this trust they had. They all got along together and everyone was tolerant of each other. It was an amazing sort of place.”

McLoughlin and the Provincial Council of the church wrote to each other about their disagreements and his future in the church. 

“They said he was not presenting himself as a man of faith, a man of Catholic faith, so they started to get on his case,” said Lambesis. “You will see there are letters going back and forth that they then decide he had a choice. He either had to give up being superintendent of the hospital and back off from that. He could still be involved, he could still be on the board of trustees but he could not be the person in charge and go back to running a civil church or they would ship him to Ajo.”

After years of back and forth, in 1948, McLoughlin decided to leave the priesthood and even went on to marry a woman, which caused a national uproar, especially among Catholics.

“He resigned (from the church), and that at the time was huge,” said Lambesis. “Then he married the medical records secretary of the hospital, who was divorced from the chief of staff, and that made national headlines.”

For a priest to leave the priesthood and go against his oath of celibacy by marrying a woman was big enough news. But add in the fact that she was a divorced woman, which at the time was against the Catholic church’s beliefs and practices, and you get some angry people.

McLoughlin received letters from all over the nation. Some told him he was going to go to hell for what he had done, others begged him to reconsider his choices and others were written to congratulate him on his marriage. 

Despite the backlash, he continued working with the community and as superintendent of the hospital, hosting many charity events and fundraising to make sure its doors stayed open. In 1949, McLoughlin renamed the hospital to the Phoenix Memorial Hospital to honor those lost in World War II and that name remained until the hospital closed in 2002.

The legacy of the hospital and school was largely collected and preserved by Bennett. McLoughlin met Bennett in 1948 when she began working as a volunteer in the hospital. She was amazed by his mission to help everyone, and she worked at the hospital until her retirement in 1990. 

She worked with him to keep the hospital open for the community and became one of his most trusted colleagues until his death in 1970. 

“She was devoted to that hospital as much as Emmett was,” said Lambesis. “They were very close friends. When he died, the board of trustees made her the interim administrator of the hospital until they could hire someone else because she knew them so well.”

After McLoughlin passed, Bennett found and stored files about the history of the hospital, the nursing school and Emmett to keep them from being thrown out. 

“It wasn’t about Emmett, but mostly it was about capturing the history of this place,” said Lambesis. “How it got started, how it served people, why it was needed.”

In 1989, Bennett presented the materials she had about the Phoenix Memorial Hospital, which included the gift of an original iron lung used at the hospital to treat polio patients, to ASU, where they were accepted into the university archives.

Then, in 2012, on behalf of Bennett, Lambesis donated the artifacts and materials regarding the nursing school to the Arizona Nurses Association for their historical archives. The only documents Bennett had left revolving around the hospital were those pertaining to McLoughlin. She knew the documents held historical value, but she didn’t want to donate them anywhere for fear they wouldn’t be handled correctly.

“She really wanted to be careful about Emmett’s papers because he was somewhat controversial in the end, particularly from the religious point of view,” said Lambesis. “She wanted to make sure that his memory would have been honored or his thinking would have been honored. His doing would have been honored and they wouldn’t somehow disappear in these papers. They wouldn’t be abused or they wouldn’t get into the hands of someone who didn’t care.”

The documents, which are being referred to as “McLoughlin's Papers,” are set to be housed in the ASU Library archives later this year. 

“Phoenix has always been a place of many cultures and faiths, and there is a great deal of both conflict and collaboration in its history,” said O’Donnell. “McLoughlin's papers, along with other holdings of ASU Library, help us to see both, as well as giving us a sense of a man who made difficult and unexpected choices throughout his life, in pursuit of what he understood to be the good of others.”

Rachel Bunning

Communications program coordinator, School of Historical, Philosophical and Religious Studies

 
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Radically inclusive dance

September 28, 2020

A Sun Devil leads the way for change by helping to create an anti-racist dance world

Editor's note: This story originally appeared in the fall 2020 issue of ASU Thrive magazine. 

For many people, dance is a form of escape. The sweat-soaked physicality of the art offers the freedom to temporarily forget. For dancer, choreographer and activist J. Bouey, ’14 BFA in dance, dance is healing. It’s doing the uncomfortable work to confront trauma head on. 

For Bouey, dance is the vessel for breakthroughs. It’s a way of dealing with the constant pain of being a Black person in America. 

Healing is a recurring theme for Bouey, who is a member of the world-renowned, New York-based dance troupe Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company.

Bouey’s latest choreographic work, “Chiron in Leo” — originally set to premiere before the pandemic struck — centers on mental health, generational trauma and healing the inner child.

Bouey, who prefers they/them pronouns, is also the founder and co-host with Melanie Greene of The Dance Union Podcast and platform, a community hyperfocused on healing within the dance world itself. Since launching over two years ago, the platform has convened a steadily growing audience of creatives of color, all eager to create a more equitable and just landscape for all dancers. 

A love for dance

Bouey’s passion for abolishing oppression in all forms began at a young age.

Their mother was involved in a nurse’s union at the Los Angeles County Hospital and their father was a community organizer. Growing up in South Central L.A. and later Phoenix and Chandler, Bouey found an early love for dance, performing with step and hip-hop teams. At 15, they decided it was possible to make a career out of it.

J. Bouey


A full ride to ASU led them to the School of Film, Dance and Theatre in the Herberger Institute for Design and the Arts. Bouey originally studied dance education, but when Ashleigh Leite, a postmodern contemporary dance professor, told them they could make it as a performer, they switched majors.

After graduating in 2014, Bouey left for New York — the epicenter of concert dance — determined to build a career as a performer.

Life as a professional dancer

Making a lasting career in dance has become ever more challenging for aspiring dancers and even seasoned choreographers. As governments, from federal to local, continue to cut arts funding, long-standing dance companies have dwindled and audiences continue to shrink. The traditional model  — landing a full-time spot with a company — is not viable for most.

Many turn to freelancing, which means dancing, teaching, choreographing and building a social media presence, all while working other nondance jobs to afford New York’s cost of living.

“It’s a field that makes it really hard for anybody who’s Black and does not have financial support from mom and dad,” Bouey said.

Freelancers must also fund their own training to keep their bodies in top-notch shape. Many don’t have health insurance. In some dance companies, a lack of diversity and hostile environment for Black and other performers of color can make it even harder to succeed.  

“I started to find community in the struggle, the struggle of being a freelance dance artist, which was to essentially be like an indie music artist or any kind of artist without real management support,” Bouey said.

Despite the hardships, they persevered, quickly building a name. From 2015 to 2017, they performed as an apprentice under Artistic Director Tiffany Rea-Fisher with modern company Elisa Monte Dance — launched nearly 40 years ago by a former principal dancer with the Martha Graham Dance Company. Before landing a spot with Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company, they also danced with groups including the project-based AntonioBrownDance and MBDance, a company centering the experiences of queer people of color.

They won residencies and fellowships that provided funding, space and time to develop work, and showed their original choreography about healing in well-known performance spaces, including New York Live Arts and Gibney Dance. 

Bouey also worked to make dance more accessible to Black and brown communities by teaching at Mind-Builders Creative Arts Center in the Bronx and other schools. But still, they wanted to do more.

The Dance Union

Having learned the business side from other dancers and through trial and error, Bouey wanted to share what they learned. This sparked the idea for a grassroots education system — a free podcast called The Dance Union — focused on ensuring that dancers of all ages have the necessary tools to make it.

The podcast also tackles topics that were floating around among other dancers who are Black, Indigenous and non-Black people of color — tokenism, hostile environments, toxic masculinity, the need for a union and what reparations would look like in dance.

It became “a hub and a space to amplify the voices of folks who already have a megaphone and are making really radical and bold choices and change,” said Greene. 

In addition to the podcast, when the brutal killings of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and George Floyd forced a reckoning over systemic racism in institutions, ranging from academia to the arts, Bouey moved quickly. They planned a virtual space to process, grieve and express anger centering the perspectives of Black dancers. The town halls offered a platform for artists to speak both about failings and about ways to build a more inclusive future. With more than 10,000 views, others have been learning as well, and The New York Times wrote about the work.

Creating space for tough subjects is one of Bouey’s strengths, Greene said. “It’s been a blessing to actually have someone in my life that is modeling a type of vulnerability and courage and growth, creating a very hospitable environment for that loving and learning to actually happen.” 

A topic that has come up often since the podcast started in 2018 and now in the town halls is white supremacy in dance. It shows up through implicit racism in dance education — the idea that Eurocentric ballet is the foundation of all dance technique, Bouey said. The hyperfocus on ballet often means the contributions of dancemakers of color throughout history are sidelined. 

On the podcast, Bouey, Greene and others in the community could dream up a more inclusive education that gave the same reverence to dance styles from the Black diaspora and other ethnic groups.

Bouey points out other ways that white supremacy shows up in dance: “not allowing trans and gender-nonconforming and nonbinary folks to live in their full expression in dance … not letting children who are of trans experience, nonbinary or nonconforming experience really be fully supported within the studios and education process.”

The conversations on The Dance Union Podcast, in the town halls and on social media platforms were about shifting the dance community from being “not racist,” which is a passive state of being, to anti-racist — acknowledging complicity in white supremacy and actively fighting against racism. 

Many people were unaware of these topics and conversations. But in recent months, racism and white supremacy in dance have burst into light. 

Raising money for dancers 

In recent months, the Dance Union team has been working overtime in response to back-to-back societal crises, from seeing the continued violence perpetrated on people of color, to seeing the way COVID-19 has disproportionately killed people of color, to the additional crisis that the shutdown of live entertainment has had on dancers and other artists.

When it was clear COVID-19 would be devastating for dancers, wiping out gigs and performance opportunities, Bouey sprang into action, helping to organize a relief fund which raised over $23,000, going to more than 130 dancers so far. 

Moving forward

As long-standing institutions including American Ballet Theatre and Gibney Dance have recently posted messages of solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement and made promises to rectify damage done to dancers of color, it’s easy to question if true lasting change is possible. 

The question then becomes: What’s next? There’s no comfortable answer, Bouey said.

They want institutions to practice radical transparency and admit they ignored the long-lingering trauma Black people have faced in America and its consequences.  

“Because only from then can we actually do the work of dismantling things and building better structures,” Bouey said.

It takes inner work in hearts and minds, and actions, to uproot oppression and create an inclusive and equitable future in dance and everywhere else. Bouey is doing that work by working on their own healing, helping others to heal, providing a platform for healing and listening, envisioning a better future and helping to hold those with power accountable.

They summed up their vision during the second town hall in June. “The Dance Union is intentionally a space for dance artists to share their ideas, voice their concerns, demand change, resist and unite.” 

Written by Makeda Easter, a staff writer at the Los Angeles Times who covers the arts. When not writing, she can be found in a dance studio taking a class or in rehearsal for an upcoming show. She was previously a science writer for a supercomputing center at the University of Texas.

Photos by Brad Ogbonna

ASU student wins national award for support of women in engineering


September 28, 2020

People told Elizabeth Jones for years that she couldn’t be an engineer. But she knew that not only could she become one, but so could many others who didn’t fit engineering stereotypes.

Now, the fourth-year electrical engineering student in the Ira A. Fulton Schools of Engineering at Arizona State University has been named one of the top contributors to the collegiate engineering community by the Society of Women Engineers, a global advocacy, service and educational not-for-profit organization supporting women and diversity in engineering and technology. Elizabeth Jones assists an elementary school student at GEAR Day 2018. Electrical engineering major Elizabeth Jones assists an elementary school student at GEAR Day 2018, an Arizona State University section of the Society of Women Engineers outreach event. Jones was recognized for her outstanding contributions to the Society of Women Engineers and the engineering community at ASU and beyond with a 2020 SWE Outstanding Collegiate Member award. Photo by Marco-Alexis Chaira/ASU Download Full Image

The SWE Outstanding Collegiate Member award is given to only 10 society members in the nation each year, celebrating those who demonstrate outstanding contributions to SWE, the engineering community and their university.

Jones has been recognized for “impressive academic drive, for tireless outreach and for mentoring and fostering a sense of empowerment and belonging among women engineers, well beyond the classroom.”

“When I was younger, I didn’t have people challenging the gender norm — I was told to teach, stay in the kitchen and be a housewife,” said Jones, now a high-achieving engineering student and president of ASU’s section of the SWE organization. “Those norms don’t need to stay around. My passion is to change that by advocating for my SWE section and myself.”

The award came as a surprise to Jones who was nominated by her roommate, Rachel Scheller, an electrical engineering senior and the ASU SWE section vice president of graduate affairs.

“After reading the description for the SWE Outstanding Collegiate Member award, I could not think of a more appropriate or deserving candidate for such an award,” Scheller said. “Liz being chosen for this award truly validates and puts a spotlight on everything we as a community — with Liz at the helm — have worked so hard to build over the last few years. I hope that through this award, Liz and SWE ASU can continue to expand our work for the betterment of the community around us.”

Alicia Baumann, a lecturer in the Fulton Schools and the SWE ASU section undergraduate adviser, says Jones embodies SWE’s mission to advance, aspire and achieve every day. Jones’ passionate leadership in partnership with the members’ support made the achievement possible.

“As Liz Jones empowers young women of all age levels, those women and experiences drive her to push boundaries and set new goals for how our ASU SWE students can impact our community,” Baumann said. “We all look forward to seeing what Liz will accomplish in the future. With her on our side, I know our future young women at ASU will have more opportunities than ever.”

Jones will be recognized at WE20, the national SWE conference held online Nov. 3–14.

Rachel Scheller and Elizabeth Jones at an E2 welcome event for incoming Fulton Schools students.

Electrical engineering major Rachel Scheller (left) and Elizabeth Jones participate as counselors in the E2 welcome event for incoming students. Jones fostered a sense of community among the new students and often talked about SWE at the event, some of whom have gone on to be leaders in the ASU section of SWE. Photo by Marco-Alexis Chaira/ASU 

Joining and leading a supportive community of engineers at ASU

Jones’ SWE journey began in high school, where she learned about the organization through outreach events for incoming ASU students.

Finding a community of supportive engineers has been key to her many successes in a challenging field that has not always been welcoming to women.

By the end of her first year, Jones had started her journey into SWE leadership. She served as the ASU section’s outreach officer her sophomore year, where she expanded events like GEAR Day, in which young students are invited to explore engineering through interactive activities.

“As outreach director, Liz innumerably expanded our annual GEAR Day event for children to learn more about STEM,” Scheller said. “Her passion, dedication and true care for the children are what drove her day after day to make the event the best ASU had ever seen.”

By the time she became a junior, Jones had her sights set on SWE’s top leadership position.

Jones served as president her junior year and recently started her second term in that role as a senior. She decided to apply for the position of president to “contribute back to the community” and provide additional resources and opportunities for the organization’s growth.

“I saw the potential for growth as membership numbers were rapidly increasing just before my presidency, and to adjust our planning, opportunities and support for those in the engineering community who identify as women and bring in additional allies,” Jones said.

Under Jones’ leadership, the ASU section has helped many more Sun Devil engineers grow their identities, with the section’s membership continuing its dynamic increase by 86% in the last academic year. The organization now includes more than 300 dues-paying SWE members, with 50 highly active section members who attend meetings and workshops, and who are involved in various activities the organization runs.

Those members are the most rewarding part of the organization for Jones. She says it’s especially encouraging when she sees others in SWE succeed.

Jones has watched her mentees just starting out as engineering majors become leaders in SWE, nontraditional students return to school with a better support system, and her peers get internships and job offers through SWE-supported attendance at conferences to further their careers.

Scheller said, “Liz spends a lot of her time silently and invisibly helping those around her. I felt it was important that not only the ASU but the larger SWE community get a chance to learn about the ways that Liz has impacted those around her.”

Promoting diversity in engineering

Jones is passionate about advocating for diversity and inclusion — something she considers a cornerstone of her identity as an engineer and a key part of ASU’s mission.

“We’re making substantial changes in conversations about diversity and inclusion in engineering,” Jones said, adding that the ASU section of SWE not only focuses on female engineers, but non-female-identifying allies and resources for everyone to be part of the conversation.

Jones is a natural at leading this dialogue, with a long-standing passion for guiding youth to follow their STEM dreams.

“I love being able to help people explore what they want to be when they grow up, and that traditional gender roles are shifting and you're no longer constrained by them,” she said.

She also has held numerous positions outside of SWE that allow her to be a mentor and inspire other women to become engineers. These include roles as a mentor in the Engineering Futures program, as a Fulton Ambassador showing prospective students what it’s like to be a Sun Devil engineer and tutoring her peers to help them succeed in difficult engineering courses.

She has even turned this passion into her honors thesis as a student in Barrett, The Honors College. This project, which is the culmination of her undergraduate education, focuses on self-efficacy and a sense of belonging in engineering.

Jones says role models are one important aspect of developing her identity and confidence as an engineer.

“For me, role models have helped me get through those times when I had self doubt. Without people like Alicia Baumann, I would have dropped engineering. My mentors were always a voice of encouragement and said I was worth giving myself the chance to do what I wanted to do,” Jones said.

“Role models can help you see that people have gone through it, and by getting through it yourself, you’re setting an example for future generations.”

Elizabeth Jones (center) and members of the ASU SWE section leadership team the WE19 Society of Women Engineers conference.

Elizabeth Jones (center) poses with ASU SWE section leadership team members at the WE19 annual Society of Women Engineers conference. Her outstanding support of SWE and the engineering community at ASU are being recognized at WE20 in November. Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Jones 

Engineering a rewarding future

As an electrical engineering major focusing on communications and signal processing, Jones works in the Bliss Laboratory of Information, Signals and Systems, conducting research on small-scale radars and solutions for medical and defense applications.

She has been an electrical engineering major since day one, but it took a couple years to figure out which industry she wanted to go into after graduating.

A chance encounter with aerospace and defense company Northrop Grumman put her on the path to an aerospace industry career and gave her confidence in her ability to be a successful engineering professional.

At SWE’s 2019 annual conference, WE19, a representative from Northrop Grumman interviewed her for an internship position. It turned out to be one of her proudest engineering moments.

“I wasn’t prepared at all, but it was reassuring that people saw I was capable in a way that I wasn’t yet seeing,” Jones said.

She has participated in two internships and worked part-time with the company during the past school year.

“My internships have validated that I can be a technical engineer and do any work that I want,” Jones said. “It’s reassuring that I can work in the big aerospace and defense industry — which is really male-dominated — and I can pave the way for other women to do the same.”

Jones has been able to “put a bow on the package” of being an engineer and advocate through the Grand Challenges Scholars Program. With a project that focuses on the National Academy of Engineering Grand Challenges of education, now encompassed by the theme of “joy of living,” Jones has been able to take advantage of interdisciplinary opportunities to promote diversity and inclusion in engineering outside of the classroom. She also will be recognized by ASU and NAE for her efforts as a Grand Challenges Scholar when she graduates in the spring.

But her journey won’t be complete. Jones is staying at ASU for a fifth year to finish her graduate degree in electrical engineering as part of the 4+1 accelerated master’s degree program. She plans to continue to support the ASU section members of SWE and the wider engineering community to achieve their own goals.

Monique Clement

Communications specialist, Ira A. Fulton Schools of Engineering

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New ASU research center promotes inclusive STEM education


September 28, 2020

The Research for Inclusive STEM Education Center, a newly launched Arizona State University initiative, is striving to make higher education more inclusive through innovative research, ongoing events and campuswide interventions. 

The center was founded by Sara Brownell, associate professor in the School of Life Sciences and director of the center, and Kristen Parrish, associate professor in the School of Sustainable Engineering and the Built Environment and associate director of the center.  Sara Brownell, associate professor in the School of Life Sciences and director of the Research for Inclusive STEM Education Center. Download Full Image

The two first met through a peer leadership program and quickly realized they were both interested in diversity, equity and inclusion in higher education. As women in male-dominated fields, Brownell and Parrish said they have both experienced what it’s like to be a minority but feel their experiences are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to inclusion in higher education.

“In my case as a straight, white woman, being female is about the only identity where I'm a nonmajority within engineering,” Parrish said. “My own experience feeling like an ‘other’ or an ‘only’ would be amplified if I also had some intersectional identities that made it even harder. It’s my job and my duty to try to amplify other voices and recognize that we need to be more inclusive. I think it’s important to recognize the role that we as faculty, or more broadly speaking as institutions, have to meet students wherever they're at. We are the ones that need to take on responsibility for changing.” 

After a year of planning and discussion, Brownell and Parrish launched the center as a way to extend the reach of the work they were already doing and become a national research hub. Initially the center was going to focus primarily on science, but after further conversation they realized the project could have a greater impact if it included disciplines within science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM).

Kristen Parrish, associate professor in the School of Sustainable Engineering and the Built Environment and associate director of the Research for Inclusive STEM Education Center.

“We all know it's often easy to get in our own little silos in our departments or units. We forget that there's this broader university and a bunch of folks doing similar and interesting things that could inform our own work,” Brownell said. “I think that is a great reason to have the Research for Inclusive STEM Education Center be across the university, rather than just science-focused. By bringing folks together we hope to foster dialogue and discussions that will elevate the quality of our undergraduate STEM education.”

The center has several goals including identifying inequities that are currently in classrooms across the university and implementing solutions, conducting and producing innovative research on ways to make undergraduate STEM classrooms more inclusive, and educating and informing STEM faculty about this research and how they can better serve all students. Their work is meant to not only improve inclusivity within the ASU community, but also inspire change at institutions nationwide. 

“So many of our faculty have been working to achieve greater access and inclusion through their research, outreach and creative efforts,” said Nancy Gonzeles, dean of natural sciences in The College of Liberal Arts and Sciences. “The Research for Inclusive STEM Education Center will give this work a home and allow for increased cross-discipline collaboration that will put ASU at the forefront of inclusive STEM education research. But ultimately the work of the center is to benefit our students and provide them with the tools they need to succeed.”

One of the center's early initiatives has been the development of a series of virtual events focusing on anti-racism and racial justice. Created in response to the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, protests against the killing of George Floyd and other national issues, the “A call to action: RISE Up for racial justice,” events range from discussions and workshops to student listening sessions and seminars. The events have been well-received, with the first seminar in August having an attendance of more than 850 people. Brownell and Parrish said they feel these events are a step in the right direction toward creating a more inclusive campus.

“We decided to develop this series to help promote awareness and provide information around what it means to be anti-racist,” Brownell said. “We don't think that these events are going to solve the problems, but we do think that it's an important first step in a much longer series of conversations and concrete actions to help our university, specifically STEM environments, become anti-racist.”

Moving forward Brownell and Parrish plan on continuing to host these kinds of events while also focusing their efforts on research. They are currently working on a National Science Foundation grant-funded project that addresses how students with disabilities at ASU and across the nation interact with active learning environments. The team of researchers who are core members of the center is also expanding, with the recent addition of Katelyn Cooper, a newly appointed assistant professor in the School of Life Sciences.

Upcoming “RISE Up for racial justice” events:

Language matters: Considering racial microaggressions in science
Discussion
When: Thursday, Oct. 8, 1:30 p.m. (CT)
Speakers: Colin Harrison, Georgia Tech; and Kimberly Tanner, San Francisco State University
Zoom: asu.zoom.us/j/97235381892

But is it really “just” science? Engaging critical race theory to unpack racial oppression with implications for Black student science engagement
Seminar
When: Wednesday, Oct. 21, 11 a.m. (CT)
Speaker: Terrell Morton, University of Missouri
Zoom: asu.zoom.us/j/92158713296

Black women and belongingness: An interrogation of STEM education as a white, patriarchal space 
Seminar
When: Thursday, Nov. 19, 2 p.m. (CT)
Speakers: Luis Leyva, Vanderbilt University; and Nicole Joseph, Vanderbilt University
Zoom: asu.zoom.us/j/94696434185

An exploratory investigation of the experiences of Black immigrant women in undergraduate STEM
Seminar
When: Tuesday, Dec. 1, 2 p.m. (CT)
Speakers: Meseret Hailu, Arizona State University; and Brooke Coley, Arizona State University
Zoom: asu.zoom.us/j/98196412224

Emily Balli

Communications Specialist and Lead Writer, The College of Liberal Arts and Sciences

 
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The new nuclear family

September 24, 2020

T. Denny Sanford School professor says America should rethink and promote a more realistic picture of U.S. households

As the demography of the United States dramatically shifts, so too should the idea of what it means to be a family, said an Arizona State University professor.

Since the end of World War II, the "ideal" nuclear family consisting of a white father, mother and their two biological kids has been perpetuated in media. But that image is outdated and no longer reflects modern society, said Cassandra Cotton, an assistant professor in the T. Denny Sanford School of Social and Family Dynamics.

“This cultural ideal of the 'Leave it to Beaver' family where the father works, mom stays at home raising their two children is not what family looks like anymore,” said Cotton, who is a family demographer and sociologist. “It’s time to decenter that notion and expand our understanding of what a family looks like.”

Cotton’s words come on the eve of National Family Day on Sept. 26, which has been celebrated annually since 1977. Organizers encourage families to gather at the kitchen table and enjoy a meal together in an attempt to appreciate and engage with the most important people in their lives.

ASU Now spoke to Cotton about her research on family dynamics and how the future of American households will shape and influence our society going forward.

Woman with long brown hair

Cassandra Cotton

Question: Social science research shows that the nuclear family ideal of the post-World War II baby boom is not an accurate reflection of American society. Why have social scientists like yourself come to that conclusion?

Answer: What’s so interesting about the "ideal" of the nuclear family is that it’s actually a relatively new one, and it’s not universal. We’ve conceptualized the "two married, opposite-sex parents and biological kids" family as the model for what is normal and what we should strive for, but in reality families have often been very different from that.

Historically in the U.S., extended families and multigenerational living was the norm for many people, with families made up of parents, children, grandparents and other kin. So for a long time, the norm was these big kinship networks, a safety net of different folks pitching in to raise kids and supporting one another. And that’s still the norm in many parts of the world, where family is a much more communal idea than just two parents taking care of kids. Increasingly now, we’re also starting to recognize that a family doesn’t have to include children, so this idea of parents raising kids isn’t the reality for everyone, nor do all kids live with their parents.

It’s also important for us to realize that the ideal of the nuclear family is quite restrictive and has applied only to certain segments of the American population. Historically we’ve really centered this particular ideal of white, heterosexual nuclear families as the norm, and other family forms as different and sometimes wrong. The heavy focus on marriage — and childbearing within marriage — has been damaging for groups in the U.S. who don’t form families exactly like the ideal due to the historical context of this country. As a society, we’ve often bemoaned the lack of conforming to this ideal of family formation as driving social inequality and poverty, without recognizing the structures, institutions and history that have resulted in those differences. We live in a country where enslaved people did not have the right to marry or raise their children, and as a result, diverse family forms emerged among Black people. The U.S. also has a long history of forcefully removing children of color from their families, like the residential school system that took Indigenous children from kin. So we’re coming from a historical context where families of color weren’t allowed to exist in the same way as white families. Even now, Black, Indigenous and other people of color navigate a world where their family formation patterns and family structures are often viewed as inferior.

There’s always been a lot of dog-whistle language used by researchers and politicians to talk about families that are different from the ideal — "fragile", "problematic," "dysfunctional," "deviant." But some social scientists increasingly recognize the role of white supremacy and patriarchy in guiding our view of the "ideal" family and centering that as the norm. And that’s a big part of why the ideal is outdated — the United States is increasingly moving toward a more racially and ethnically diverse society, among other changes, where a variety of patterns of family formation and family structures need to be recognized as valid and important rather than inferior. We need to think in a much more nuanced way about families and challenge ourselves to consider a broader range of what families can look like.

Q: What’s driving this change and offering up a picture of the new family?

A: We’re definitely seeing changes in the family landscape in the U.S. and elsewhere, partly driven by the changes in our population itself, and partly by legal and social changes that have happened. But there isn’t just one new family — there are many. The U.S. is becoming less white over time, partly because of differences in fertility and migration patterns across different groups. We’ve seen increases in interracial marriage since Loving v. Virginia back in 1967, and alongside that, an increasing number of multiracial or multiethnic children. So transracial families have become more visible. Since the Supreme Court ruled for equal marriage in 2015, we’ve seen growth in the number of married LGBTQ+ partners, some of whom are raising children from previous unions, or children brought into the family through assisted reproduction or adoption. A growing number of kids have come to this country as immigrants through international adoption in the last 20 years.

And we’ve also seen other changes in marriage behaviors, as folks wait longer to get married or choose alternatives to marriage, like cohabitation, with or without kids in the picture. People continue to get divorced, which sometimes means raising children across multiple households, sometimes with new partners and new step- or half-siblings in the mix. Other people are divorcing later in life, repartnering into new family units without kids involved, or taking in grandchildren when parents aren’t able to care for kids. There’s no one dominant family form in the U.S. — certainly not the nuclear ideal. Families are complex — but we should remember that they always have been, everywhere in the world. Plenty of kids have lived with just one parent, or with a stepparent, with a house full of kin, or with no parents at all. Lots of couples choose not to have children as part of their families. These patterns aren’t new, but are gaining prominence as we move away from the outdated ideal.

Q: Given that the nuclear family ideal is outdated, why do we as a society still hold this up as a value?

A: I think there are a lot of reasons we cling to this particular notion of what family means. For some, it’s the family type we grew up with and the one we saw on TV and in the movies. Marriage and childbearing only within marriage have long been pushed as "the right way to do things," and those kind of societal norms often stick with us. And that can mean that different types of families make people uncomfortable, especially when public messaging about family structure has also been so strong.

A lot of people cling to the ideal because of concern — often unfounded — about what different family structures can mean for kids. You know, the “think of the children” kind of rhetoric. For example, for a long time, divorce was heavily stigmatized even after no-fault divorce was introduced in the 1970s and divorce rates increased. There was a great deal of concern about what divorce would mean for kids, though we now know there’s a great deal of evidence that suggests that kids can do just fine with happy, divorced parents. There continues to be suggestions that LGBTQ+ families are problematic, despite evidence to the contrary. And the public messaging on other family types has been harmful too, like the Moynihan Report in 1965 that warned of the dangers of nonmarital childbearing and single motherhood among Black Americans. People continue to use dog-whistle language about "family breakdown" and "cultures of poverty." This kind of rhetoric ignores the history of family formation for Black families and the reality of how inequality and institutional racism have deeply affected family life for Black people and other people of color. So a lot of the idealizing of this particular "nuclear" form of family has to do with broader socialization on race, class and gender roles, and with people’s perspectives of the world around them, which can be a problem because these are hard to shift.

Q: Please offer a glimpse what you feel a family looks like today and what they aspire to be, and how families will look in the future.

A: A broader acceptance and understanding of what family can look like to different people helps us move beyond a very restrictive view to a recognition that family is what you make it. There isn’t just one family to picture when we think about families. A family can be a couple who chooses not to have children. It can be partners who choose to have many children, biologically or through adoption or assisted reproduction. It can be folks coming together in a blended family bringing children from a previous union, or it can be a single adult who chooses to raise a child alone or with the help of friends and kin. It can be married couples or cohabiting couples. Sometimes it’s grown-up children coming back to live with aging parents. It can be a full house with grandparents, parents and children all living together, or it might be a grandfather raising his grandkids or an auntie taking care of nieces and nephews. Or it might be any combination of these different paths to forming relationships that create kinship.

Families come together in all different ways, and they all look different, and that’s OK — being a family should be about celebrating and supporting one another through challenges. What that family looks like or how it came to be shouldn’t be what’s important.

Q: How do family dynamics change society as a whole?

A: Changing family dynamics can bring about broad changes in our population. As a family demographer, I’m constantly reminding my students to think about what changes in families will mean for our population as a whole. These changes in marriage, childbearing and childrearing will reshape and reconfigure what the U.S. looks like five years from now, 10 years from now and even 100 years in the future. The unions that we’re forming now — whether they’re same-sex or opposite-sex, interracial, interreligious and so on — will have an impact on what our population looks like in the future. The children raised in these families will go on to have their own families later in life, whatever those might look like. When we see changes in demographics — who is in the population — and changes in demographic behavior like forming unions and having kids, there’s the potential to see changes in our shared ideals and understandings of the world.

My hope is that we’ll continue to move toward a model of family that takes into account our individual desires to marry or not, to have children or to remain child-free, to raise children with the support of a partner, kin or other loved ones. A model that encompasses all the variety of family formation and family structure that exists — whatever family looks like for you, it’s something to celebrate.

Top photo courtesy of iStock/Getty Images

Reporter , ASU Now

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ASU center 'mixes it up' with virtual art exhibit honoring National Hispanic Heritage Month


September 22, 2020

The Hispanic Research Center at Arizona State University is home to an extensive collection of work by Hispanic artists. Over the years, the center has showcased this collection through a variety of in-person art shows, exhibitions and tours. Now, for the first time in its 35-year history, the center has launched a virtual art exhibit highlighting the work of artists of Mexican descent. 

Founded in 1985, the Hispanic Research Center is a research unit of The College of Liberal Arts and Sciences that serves the university and broader community through its academic exploration and distribution of resources in areas of importance to Hispanic culture.  "The Return to Aztlan," Alfredo Arreguín. Oil on canvas, 2005. Image courtesy of the Hispanic Research Center. Download Full Image

Jean Andino, interim director of the Hispanic Research Center and associate professor in the School for Engineering of Matter, Transport and Energy, said center staff were motivated to find new and engaging ways to make artwork from their collection accessible.

“Obviously in this time of COVID-19 things are a little bit different than they normally would be,” Andino said. “But we're so excited about the possibility of doing a lot more with the community and I’m encouraged by the enthusiasm that exists within the team.”

The virtual tour, titled “Mixing it Up,” features 12 videos narrated by Santiago Moratto, senior research specialist, and produced by Brandon Ortega, media specialist. In each video, Moratto gives a brief description of the work and shares context about the artist and subject matter. The exhibit showcases 10 pieces from the collection that were specially selected to celebrate and honor National Hispanic Heritage Month.

Each artwork depicts themes involving United States’ Hispanic identity including immigration, spirituality, traditional food and drink, and farmworker iconography. These themes are meant to provoke thought and discussion of social issues that are prevalent in present U.S. society. 

Andino said “Mixing it Up” is the first of many virtual art exhibits, with plans to curate more in the coming months. Aside from virtual art exhibits, the center is involved in a number of other projects across the university. With the recent passing of Gary Keller, the center’s longtime director, Andino was appointed interim director. She said she and the team remain determined to move ongoing projects forward while expanding the center’s reach. 

“Ultimately, when we start talking about social justice and social equity, it's crucial to have organizations that are able to speak to the needs of the community,” Andino said. “The Hispanic Research Center has the ability to bring diverse voices into the discussion and if you're trying to develop solutions for society, it's important to have all voices represented. We're always looking for new ideas and new opportunities to do collaborative work that will really impact the Hispanic community and the community in general.”

One of the center’s largest efforts is the Bilingual Press, a publisher that has produced literary works, scholarship and art books by or about Hispanics in the U.S. since 1973. The Bilingual Press has a catalog of 200 books authored by both established and emerging writers in English, Spanish and bilingual formats. 

In addition to the Bilingual Press, the center also leads the Western Alliance to Expand Student Opportunities, a regional alliance of community colleges, four-year colleges and universities that seeks to expand opportunities for students in Arizona, Colorado and Utah. The program specifically focuses on enhancing and diversifying student inclusion in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM).

As an Afro-Latina woman in STEM, Andino said she feels passionate about the center’s work and hopes its efforts will lead to creating a more culturally diverse, accepting community.

“It’s critically important to have an organization like the Hispanic Research Center that is meant to provide some additional knowledge, especially in this day and age, so that we can all better understand how to interface with each other. The Hispanic population is such a diverse group of individuals — the center represents these different cultures and allows their voices to be heard.”

Emily Balli

Communications Specialist and Lead Writer, The College of Liberal Arts and Sciences

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