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Program
Rotunda: Topic – The University
of Virginia's Diversity
Record
1:30 P.M. to 3:00 P.M.
Rotunda Tour 3:00
P. M. to 3:45 P. M
The following notes were taken from a presentation by Phyllis
Leffler, UVa professor of Public History:
The University
of Virginia : Its
Diversity Record
The past establishes the parameters for the present. If we
don't know about the past, or don't have reason to think about
it, then we can't build on our strengths or actively overcome
our weaknesses. So, in fact, the history of the university is
critically important for thinking about where we need to go,
and how we get there.
The University does not have a very impressive record on being
expansive and proactively inclusive on issues of diversity
. In fact, the historical record tends to be one that
values exclusivity as part of a nineteenth-century
aristocratic heritage that should be preserved.
The situation for women takes us back to the beginning of the
twentieth century. The assumption was that women could not and
should not be in classrooms with men. These views resulted from
both biological and cultural values on gender roles. They were
more strongly held in the south, where concepts of gentility
and chivalry and honor were nostalgically linked to the Lost
Cause in the aftermath of the Civil War.
Between 1910 and 1918, the question of whether to admit women
to the university came up for every session of the Virginia
legislature. Giving up on the idea of full co-education, the
question became whether to authorize admitting women on a co-ordinate
basis. Co-ordination meant that certain facilities would be
shared. Women would not sit in the same classrooms as men. They
would inhabit separate spheres, and would even be located in
separate places. The idea was to establish a sister school,
much like Harvard and Radcliffe. After numerous unsuccessful
attempts, a compromise was reached, and the Board of Visitors
resolved that women could be admitted to graduate and professional
programs only, assuming that they had the educational background
and met certain age restrictions. In 1920, The Board effectively
restricted undergraduate education to Virginia
gentlemen, and closed the doors to equal access by women until
1970. It did not mean that women had no access, they were always
a tiny minority. The University
of Virginia is frequently
remembered as the last state university to admit women
on a fully equal basis to its undergraduate programs.
The arguments that were used to deny access to women are instructive.
They established a language and a rhetoric that was used time
and again for half a century, despite the changing conditions
and values within society. They tell us something important
about the institutional values that prevailed then, and may
perhaps linger to this day. They are, boldly put, the values
of aristocratic elitism, couched in the name of academic standards
and honor.
In this struggle for the admission of women, there are 2 major
periods to consider. The first was that period leading up to
1920. The second was that leading up to 1970, when women were
finally admitted on an equal basis with men. What is most fascinating
is that the arguments in each era were the same.
As late as 1969, alumni, faculty, and students saw the admission
of women as antithetical to the traditions of the university
– the tradition of our founder and the traditions of Honor.
In 1969, the Board of Visitors passed a resolution to admit
women to the undergraduate schools of the university. They suggested
doing so very gradually and co-education would be phased in
slowly, and would slowly rise to a maximum of around 30%. That,
of course, never happened, and once the doors were opened, within
a few years women students quickly became fully co-equal, in
academic performance, in student leadership, in numbers.
Why did the change finally happen in 1970? In part, because
it was happening everywhere else, and U.Va. was among the last
to jump on the bandwagon. Finally, there was a lawsuit filed
by 4 women, and the future was sure to be litigious.
As we look around the university today, it may seem as if there
are no remaining legacies of this resistance to gender diversity.
But when we consider the relatively few tenured women among
the faculty, the small number of senior women, the very small
number of women in high level administrative leadership positions,
perhaps we can still feel and see the implications of history.
The second example is the history of African-Americans at the
University. Virginia
, home of the Confederacy, would not give up easily on its beliefs
that blacks and whites were not meant to inhabit the same spheres.
The question of African-American admission was never a real
issue until 1950, when Gregory Swanson was admitted to the Law
School, after having initially been refused, because it was
determined that the university would never prevail in court.
Shortly afterwards, Walter Ridley was admitted to the graduate
School of Education
. Ridley earned the first Ph.D. awarded to a person of color.
But Ridley was a mature and already very accomplished individual.
He came from a very distinguished black family. His was no real
test case for the integration of black students into the university.
Many were opposed to the notion of integrated education. Some,
like then President Colgate Darden, thought it was justified
on the graduate and professional levels, but believed that the
South, and particularly Virginia, were not prepared for the
change. He went on record, through radio addresses and public
speeches, indicating that the region was not yet ready for school
integration, and that to force this decision would have very
negative consequences.
Within the walls of the university, the progress of integration
was extremely slow.
In 1955, Darden brought to the attention of the Board of Visitors
the application of one black male student from Newport
News , applying as a pre-med student,
and a young black woman who applied to Mary
Washington College
. Both were clearly qualified. But the Board dragged its feet,
despite the advice of legal counsel Venable Minor. Instead,
the Board suggested that the university wait for the General
Assembly to discuss the issue in the winter of 1955-56, knowing
that Governor Thomas Stanley would support a policy of active
resistance. The University essentially hid behind the courts
and the legislature, knowing full well the tendencies within
the state to resist desegregation.
Throughout most of the 1950s and 1960s, the African-American
presence was miniscule. Two black students entered the Medical
School in 1954. The
School of Engineering
was the first to admit African-American undergraduates, and
in 1955, three black students matriculated. By 1961, one engineering
student transferred into the College
of Arts and Sciences,
thereby integrating the undergraduate College.
Slowly, very slowly, attitudes began to change. By the late
1960s, the student protest movements were gearing up. The growth
of the university had meant more students from outside the South,
and many of them led the movement for change. It was, in fact,
the students who ultimately forced the hands of the administration.
One must remember that the university tripled in size from 1960
to 1975, growing from 5,000 in 1960 to close to 15,000 by 1975.
As these numbers climbed, the student body diversified geographically.
Progress was slow. In 1966, only 18 full time African American
students were in attendance.
Change did come finally in 1968 and 1969 – a result of student
protest. In 1967, Nathan Johnson was hired as a professor in
the School of Education
. The numbers of students crept up slowly. In 1968, the 12 black
students who chose to attend U.Va. (19 had been accepted) represented
.4 percent of an entering undergraduate class of 1400. Compared
to other southern universities, including the University
of Mississippi ,
University of Alabama
, and the University
of Arkansas , we
were dead last. After much pressure, with students calling the
university racist, insensitive, and hypocritical, a part-time
recruiter was hired. When he was appointed, only 52 full time
and 35 part-time black students attended; only 22 were undergraduates
in the College of
Arts and Sciences.
In 1969, there were 27 black students in the College
of Arts and Sciences,
and 10 in Engineering. In 1970, with a more aggressive recruitment
plan, African-Americans represented 1.8% of the student body.
By 1975, significant progress had been made. Enrollment grew
to ca. 500, representing 3.2% of the student body. The Black
Student Alliance submitted a proposal that year to establish
an Office of Minority Affairs, which became The Office of African-American
Affairs in 1976, and renamed the Luther P. Jackson House in
1976. The Carter G. Woodson Institute began its operations in
1981, but only after students protested again in Spring 1980
the university's weak efforts to recruit black faculty. These
initiatives helped create a comfort zone for the increasing
numbers of African-American students. Those numbers were finally
rising – from 3.2% in 1975 to 11% by 1982. By 1983, there were
more than 1,000 black undergraduate students. The peak enrollment
was reached in 1993, with 1,316 undergraduates, representing
11.6% of the student body. But in 2003, the numbers had dropped
to 1,130, representing only 8.75% of undergraduates.
Commitment to diversifying the student body by color had finally
arrived. But the numbers on employment of black faculty remained
incredibly low. By 1985, the percentages hovered between 2.2
and 1.9. The maximum number of African-Americans in administration
by 1985 was 4.3%
In more recent years, there have been attempts to pro-actively
look at the progress we have made in issues of African-American
Life. In 1987, a Task Force empowered by President Robert O'Neil,
set forth an ambitious agenda to improve the climate at the
university. Still, by 1994, there was still a strong feeling
that many of the goals had not yet been met. And today, yet
another Commission on Diversity is making new recommendations,
calling for a new Diversity Officer, and many new programs.
Will this report be different from the other efforts in the
past?
Thus, the story of diversity as it relates to persons of color
was one of slow and halting acceptance. Today, we boast the
highest retention and graduation rate of black students of any
state university. Yet, we have amazingly few African-American
faculty or administrators at the university. We continue to
have racial incidents, and the university community is often
self-segregated. The numbers of enrolled undergraduate students
have been falling since the high of the mid 1990s. Once again,
we must ask the question: In what way does the southern culture
so deeply rooted in this institution and this region, affect
our ability to embrace change? Change appears to have come only
as a reactive, not a proactive measure. Are we doomed to be
resistant to policies which lead the society forward?
The third issue about diversity is the policies toward sexual
preference – yet another form of diversity. The Gay Student
Union was recognized by Student Council in October 1972. They
requested an allocation of $75.00 from the Student Activity
Fund, but were granted only $45.00. The new organization appealed
the decision to the Student Activities Committee of the University,
which upheld the Student Council allocation. They then again
appealed to the President and Rector and Visitors who heard
the case in 1973. It had now become litigious, and counsel appeared
for both sides. The results are interesting, indeed.
Ultimately, the Board decided to authorize NO funds. Among
the arguments were the following: First, that the GSU advocates
a style of sexual life that is private and personal. No disbursement
of funds can be authorized for a non-educational purpose of
the University. Moreover, funds must be used for organizations
to which all students have de facto access, and heterosexuals
do not in fact have access to GSU social events because of the
social stigma attached. Furthermore, no funds can be authorized
for propagandistic purposes, and the GSU, while not political,
is clearly an advocacy group, not interested in open dialogue,
and therefore does not fall within the guidelines of an educational
organization. . Because they see themselves as an “oppressed”
group, they believe that society is hostile; as such, their
activities are likely to provoke dissension. And, to the extent
that homosexuality is a conscious choice, having such an organization
would be “disintegrative” with “…no clear advantages to the
intellectual community.” The Board further defined “disintegrative”
as an organization in which people withdraw from the mainstream
of the university community.
Obviously, societal values have shifted considerably from the
mid 1970s. One can see how the Board was struggling with the
counter-arguments, and yet unable to bring themselves to allocate
these funds. Not only do they draw comparisons with athletics
and social fraternities as organizations that don't clearly
fall within an “educational” standard, but they also address
the question of openness to other student groups. If, in fact,
membership is allowed in “Female, Black, or Chicano” organizations,
why disallow a gay students' group? The answer offered is the
answer of choice, and the belief that homosexuality is volitional.
Holding firm to the view that no funds would be given to organizations
that are social or religious, the Board saw the GSU as primarily
social and propagandistic, and therefore denied funds. But one
can see them struggling with the questions of sexual preference
and sexual diversity, and ultimately unable to see any salutary
impact from having such an organization on Grounds.
History haunts us in curious ways. Here, at Mr. Jefferson's
University, we are proud of our founder and our traditions of
educational innovation. But the historical record also reveals
a serious resistance to change and to inclusion. The historical
record demonstrates that we have too often been reactive rather
than proactive. Too often, we have accepted new groups only
when legally we had no other option. Are there issues today
that we fail to see or disregard because we are not truly interested
in encouraging diversity.
Honor and tradition are wonderful values. But
if they are used to retard progress, they hold us back from
being all we can be. The historical record on embracing and
celebrating and encouraging diversity at the University
of Virginia is one
we can learn from. If we know our past, perhaps we won't be
doomed to repeat it.
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