The Coat of Arms vol. 47.5

The Coat of Arms

Special Edition Vol. 47.5, May 18, 2021

Project Leaders

Parina Patel, Sophia Artandi

Editor-in-Chief

Carly McAdam

Special Edition Staff

Sylvie Venuto: writer, page designer

Chase Hurwitz: writer, page designer

Laura Artandi: page designer

Louisa Sonsini: page designer

Emily Han: copy editing

Charlotte Palmer: copy editing

Guest Writers

Maya Debnath

Sammie Floyd

Egan Lai

Shannon Li

Isabella Madruga

Nyla Sharma

Bella Ting

Elisabeth Westermann

Advisers

Tripp Robbins: The Coat of Arms

Keith Wheeler: Menlo Equity, Diversity and Inclusion

Design Team

Portraiture: Sadie Stinson, Photo Editor

Additional illustrations: Lauren Lawson, Creative Director

Cover, Center Spread and Back Cover Mosaics: Michele Hratko, Staff Illustrator

A Note From The Editors

Dear Coat of Arms readers,

In this special edition, we are sharing stories regarding race and ethnicity at Menlo. We understand how sensitive this topic is, but it is imperative that we address perspectives and experiences of people of color at Menlo. Because race and ethnicity is a broad topic, The Coat of Arms strived to present a wide range of experiences, but we acknowledge that we were unable to include the stories of people from all backgrounds. There are still more stories to be told beyond what this magazine includes.

The idea of this magazine was inspired by firsthand experiences we were hearing in spaces where only a small number of Menlo students and faculty were present. It became our goal to tell stories that often go untold, elevate voices we rarely get to hear from, start more race-centered conversations and create more empathy in our community. What further fueled the creation of this magazine were the incidents of racism that occurred at Menlo in early 2020. When writers refer to the “racist incidents” in this edition, they are referring to a white student verbally attacking a Black student, including calling him the n-word and resulting in an expulsion, a semi-formal proposal culturally appropriating durags and a student yelling the n-word in the Student Center. Please note that the administration has a policy where they can’t discuss details of disciplinary cases because of privacy reasons.

As editors, we want to be transparent about the intricate process that we have gone through in creating this magazine. The work on this magazine began in the fall of 2019. We created our story list and redrafted it multiple times over the past two years based on suggestions from our entire team, which consisted of affinity group leaders, guest writers and CoA editors. We chose stories that we felt best aligned with our objectives and worked hard to reflect The Coat of Arms’ mission statement: doing empa-

Thank you for reading,

Project Leaders Sophia Artandi and Parina Patel

thetic and fair journalism with integrity. Our intention has been to represent all perspectives, which is why we met with all the affinity group leaders, Chief of Institutional Equity, Diversity and Inclusion Keith Wheeler and the rest of the senior administration many times throughout the process. We also worked to properly address our own blind spots by doing extensive research, participating in two summer courses about reporting on race and receiving feedback on these stories from the Menlo School lawyer, Jon Michaelson. In the final steps, we carefully thought through the graphic design and photography in this magazine, again running our ideas by the whole team, including affinity group leaders and guest writers. We decided to create a clean, minimalistic design to focus on the identity of the subject in the photos without distracting the reader from their individuality. We placed a heavy emphasis on representing our participants’ identities through meaningful photography and stories that they were comfortable sharing. All stories, quotes and photos have been checked multiple times with each participant to confirm that they are comfortable contributing to this publication.

We would like to thank several people who contributed to this project and also those who were interviewed, without whom this project would not have been possible. Thank you to Mr. Wheeler for his guidance. To our CoA alumni who helped us launch this project last year: Sam Stevens, Crystal Bai and Bella Guel. And finally, thanks to all of the affinity group leaders who met with us countless times and gave us honest feedback: Sammie Floyd and Iyanu Olukotun from the Black Student Union, Celeste Aguilar from Latinos Unidos, Lulu Kautai and Elenoa Fifita from the Society of the South Pacific, Egan Lai from the Asian Affinity Alliance, Anisa Abdulkariem from the Middle Eastern Affinity Club and Montse Contreras from Unity Club.

IYANU OLUKOTUN

by Parina Patel

SPOTLIGHT

Junior Iyanu Olukotun was walking with a friend during his sophomore year, when a classmate called him the n-word, with a hard ‘r,’ in passing.

That student, whom we’ll call “Reid,” was expelled from Menlo on March 3, 2020, not just for using a racial slur but also for other repeated verbal attacks on Olukotun, according to Dean of Student Life Tony Lapolla. This kind of harassment dates back to freshman year when he and Olukotun shared the same friend group.

“We could be having a normal conversation and he’d say things like, ‘shut up, you’re Black.’ And I mean, you never really know how to respond to that. It doesn’t make sense at all,” Olukotun said.

The harassment continued and worsened during their sophomore year.

Reid would make jokes about Africa’s droughts and say that Olukotun therefore didn’t have access to water, according to Olukotun. “It’s such a juvenile insult to say ‘you smell bad,’ ‘you don’t have water,’” Olukotun said. At this point, Olukotun stopped addressing Reid specifically whenever they were in an area together.

is just seeing what their school’s actually like and not the facade they’ve believed for however many years,” Olukotun said.

After sharing his personal experiences, including being called the n-word by a Menlo student, Olukotun’s advocate, Assistant to the Upper School Director Frances Ferrell, approached him, upset by what she heard. “I have always had [reservations about snitching] since everyone’s afraid of being called a snitch. At that point I didn’t really care about that. If someone wants to come up to me and tell me I’m a snitch for reporting someone for calling me a monkey and the n-word, then they can do that,” Olukotun said.

Olukotun met with Lapolla multiple times to describe what was said and done by Reid. The disciplinary committee, composed of Menlo students, faculty and administrators selected by Lapolla, decided on a recommendation of expulsion for Reid, which Head of School Than Healy accepted.

If someone wants to come up to me and tell me I'm a snitch for reporting someone calling me a monkey and an n-word, then they can do that.

Later, Olukotun and Reid were assigned seating next to each other in Electrical Engineering. “This is when the comments about me being an ape began. He’d say something about me being a monkey, and when I’d say I wasn’t cool with that, he’d make monkey signals and noises at me,” Olukotun said. Junior Randeep Nandal who was also present in the Electrical Engineering class confirmed Reid’s comments.

Initially, Olukotun didn’t tell anyone about what he was experiencing. It wasn’t until the assembly after the burst of racist incidents which sparked an advocacy session where Olukotun became vocal about his struggles.

“The administration was upset because they were like ‘what’s happening to our school?’ what’s happening to our student body?’ ‘it’s devolving.’ And after when we had a reflection in advocacy, I was very open about sharing what I believe: no, the student body’s actually staying the same; nothing’s changed. The administration

What Olukotun found disappointing was the laughter in a class meeting announcing Reid’s expulsion. “I think that also speaks to Menlo’s environment as a whole, that there would be laughter as Mr. Lapolla was talking about how the student, on multiple occasions, would make monkey noises at a Black student,” Olukotun said. He also noted the importance of bystander involvement. “It’s basically just a perpetuation of these ideas that go unchallenged by the student body and continue to go unchallenged. Even people who would consider themselves to be openly anti-racist, I know that they’re reasonable people, but they would still kind of sit back and let things continue,” he said.

Olukotun said that some classmates came up to him after learning about the extent of Reid’s actions, apologizing and sympathizing for what Olukotun had experienced. “I talked to one of my friends, and he said he always wasn’t comfortable with speaking out, and I don’t blame him at all because when you speak up and everyone around you shuts you down, there’s no winning,” he said, emphasizing the difficulty of these problems.

on Anti-Asian Racism Egan Lai

by guest writer Egan Lai

Anti-Asian racism has spiked in the past year during COVID-19, yet it is not a new phenomenon. It has existed for centuries and continues to endure. Despite the spike this past year, anti-Asian racism has been a neglected topic; chances are that you have rarely heard or learned about it. In January 2021, countless elders were attacked in San Francisco’s and Oakland’s Asian communities, causing the death of 84-year-old Thai American Vicha Ratanapakdee. In a span of a few weeks, there were over 20 assaults and robberies in Oakland’s Chinatown alone, with targets mostly being Asian women and the elderly, according to ABC7 news. The economic costs of COVID-19 added on to the strings of robberies and vandals targeting Asian-owned businesses has had a disastrous effect on already suffering communities. According to NBC News, in the first quarter of 2021, data from 15 major cities showed that anti-Asian hate crimes increased 169% compared to the first quarter of 2020.

Asians have been killed, spit on, beaten, robbed and assaulted. Leading up to and on Lunar New Year, many Asians were attacked and robbed, as the assailants knew they would be carrying cash. Asian-owned businesses have been robbed and vandalized. In the span of two weeks, nine Asian-owned businesses in Oregon had their windows smashed in. Then on March 16, Robert Aarong Long committed mass shootings at three massage parlors, killing eight people, six of whom were Asian women. Do you see the danger of anti-Asian sentiment now? All those eye and COVID-19 jokes might seem inconsequential, but they mask the

larger fear and hatred for Asians that simmers inside the collective psyche of Americans.

Again, attacks on Asian Americans date back before COVID-19 and have been suffered by the Asian-American community for centuries. Did you know gangs target Asian American homes for robberies because of their supposed wealth? How many of you know that a man killed three Asians in Brooklyn with a hammer in 2019? How many of you know about Fong Lee,

We are often ignored in conversations about race at school.

who was shot eight times in the back by police officers in 2006? How many of you know about Vincent Chin, the Chinese American man killed by two white men who were angry at the success of Japan’s auto industry in 1982? All the way back to the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, Americans’ fear of the “Yellow Peril” has been a driving force in their culture and history.

This is an issue close to my heart. My parents run a small business in San Francisco. I fear for my parents’ business and their safety.

Menlo prides itself on its socially liberal pedagogy and anti-racist initiatives, yet Asian Americans are often left out of the discussion. I consistently

get emails in my inbox about social justice events and EDI speakers, but few of them ever seem to involve the Asian-American community.

As you may have heard, Menlo has an Asian affinity group, called Asian Affinity Alliance (Triple-A, if you’re feeling hip). I am one of the leaders of the group, along with fellow seniors Ishani Sood and Oliver Lee. We have found that a consistent problem our members face is the feeling of being ignored: ignored in political, social and racial justice issues. In the media, Asians who try to bring up Asian issues are accused of downplaying the issues of the other minority groups, which hardly inspires confidence for us to do the same at Menlo. In conversations about race at our school, I feel that we are often ignored and discussions about our struggles never see the light. We’ve had many assemblies about equity and diversity, yet we haven’t heard from any Asian speakers. Instead, in January of 2018, we heard from Antonio Lopez (Menlo alum who is now on East Palo Alto City Council), who lumped white and Asian kids together in opposition to students of color. He blamed Asians for discrimination against BIPOC students at Menlo, claiming our wealth and privilege alienated the real minorities on campus, disregarding the oppression Asian students face as people of color themselves.

Anti-Asian racism didn’t start with President Donald Trump. It’s been a key part of American history and BIPOC history for more than a century. It’s inherent to American institutions. Take the time to educate yourself on a huge part of your community that has been suffering.

Growing Up Asian

Bella Ting and Shannon Li write about their personal experiences as Asian Americans, Ting on growing up in Hong Kong and life after moving to California and Li on her desire to conform to Eurocentric standards and finding her identity

by guest writers Bella Ting and Shannon Li

Growing up in Hong Kong, I never really understood what it was like to be a minority or how it felt to be judged based on something as uncontrollable as race. I never really

worried about the way I looked or who I was because I was surrounded by people who looked like me and had similar experiences as me. That all changed when my family and I, at age 10, moved to California. When I introduced myself on my first day of school, I mentioned I had just moved from Hong Kong. I didn’t really think much of it until I was barraged with questions like, “Wow,

you can speak English really well!”, “Do you actually eat dogs and cats?”, “Do you speak ‘Hongkongnese’?” and “Are you really good at math? I bet you are.” Hearing these phrases for the first time was a culture shock that took a long time to get used to. Although I’ve become accustomed to questions like these, I often think, Why should I and so many others have to “get used to” comments

and actions that are undeniably harmful and ignorant?

Despite those new and shocking experiences, I felt as though they were somehow okay because I was now the minority and therefore it was “okay” for me to be treated like an outsider. It didn’t seem like it affected other Asian Americans around me because they had all gotten used to this kind of behavior to the point where it was normalized. Growing up in Hong Kong initially had a positive effect on my confidence because I didn’t have to worry about being different; however, the adjustment to living in California broke down my confidence over time as my voice grew quieter. As I became more aware of the differences between myself and my classmates, I became more reserved and silenced. I went to my dad, who grew up in New York, to compare his experiences as an ABC (American Born Chinese) to my own. He experienced a lot of bullying, which made him feel isolated in his own community. Although microaggressions can be seen as jokes or “not a big deal,” over time, they can really harm someone’s confidence and view of themself. My dad felt uncomfortable with his appearance as he was hyper-aware that he looked different than those around him, forcing him to reject his Asian roots and culture. He told me that in public he would never address his parents as “baba” or “mama” to avoid drawing attention to the fact that he was different. He would shorten “baba” to “ba” in hopes of making it sound like “pa” without making his parents feel like he was embarrassed of them. When hearing about this, I instantly felt for minorities in the U.S. who have to grow up feeling like they are not part of their own community. It’s almost incomprehensible to me that since my dad’s childhood, there hasn’t been an improvement in society’s treatment of Asian American children and that this sense of isolation hasn’t been addressed.

Shannon Li

Despite Bella and I growing up in vastly different countries, we share similar experiences of racial discrimination. I remember coming home every day and just staring at my complexion in the mirror, crying over my small eyes and monolids, wishing that I looked like the girls in my class, on the TV shows I watched and in the books I read. I was ashamed to be Asian, and for the next couple of years, this internalized racism manifested itself through denying my identity and doing whatever it took to become the embodiment of what I considered a “real American.”

My desire to fit in with my white

I've seen many young people of color reject their identity.

classmates led to a fierce rejection of my own culture. I despised attending Chinese school on the weekends and omitted my last name on school assignments. Similar to Bella’s dad, I was embarrassed when my parents spoke Chinese to me in public. I even told myself I would get double eyelid surgery to make my eyes bigger when I grew up. But no matter how hard I tried to shove down my Chinese heritage, I was never truly accepted into white spaces because I still looked Asian.

Even worse, I was unable to fit in with my relatives and family friends. Whenever I spent time with them, they’d laugh at my bad Chinese and lack of knowledge about traditional customs. I remember ask-

ing my mom why our family friends didn’t welcome me the way they used to. She told me, “你是一個香蕉,” — “you are a banana, yellow on the outside, white on the inside.” While I found this analogy rather comical, the message was true. Rejecting my Chinese identity led to me no longer fitting in with my relatives and family friends, while my Asian appearance prohibited me from fully assimilating into white circles. I was an outsider no matter where I went, never truly belonging anywhere.

I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. Throughout my life, I’ve seen many young people of color reject their identity, and even mock it to gain white validation. I understand the desire to be accepted by your community. However, this desire often leads to what has been coined as “pick me” culture: the need to fit in so badly that you’re willing to scapegoat your own heritage by perpetuating stereotypes about your race. Bella and I have both experienced situations where our Asian peers will make self-deprecating jokes about their ethnic features and cultural traditions, consequently contributing to the virulent culture of anti-Asian sentiment.

I can’t get back the years I spent denying my identity. It’s difficult for me to learn Mandarin. When my grandparents were on their deathbeds, I lamented the fact that I could never talk to them unless my parents translated for me. I’m embarrassed that I’m uneducated in Chinese traditions, and I especially regret feeling ashamed of my parents’ Chinese accents. If only my younger self knew that you didn’t have to be white to be American, I wouldn’t have to spend my high school years in a race to reclaim my identity, my culture. I never should have felt so ashamed for something completely out of my control. It pains me that I related to so many of the experiences Bella’s dad underwent decades ago. Racism against Asians in America is real, and its effects are killing people - both literally and spiritually. So, why are the racist jokes and stereotypes still so normalized?

by guest writer Sammie Floyd

ightskin. What comes to mind? Tan skin, defined curls, colored eyes and afrocentric facial features like big lips. People like Stephen Curry, Zendaya, Beyoncé.

The legacy of the word “lightskin” can be traced back to slavery. There were field slaves and house slaves; house slaves, often the product of rape from a white master, had lighter skin because they were mixed-race. House slaves often got better treatment, didn’t have to do hard labor, were fed better and were often taught to read and write. This preferential treatment is the basis of colorism. Since then, Black people with lighter skin have been favored by society and institutions over people with dark skin. Too light, and you’re too white to be Black; anything less than 100% white, you’re too brown to be white. It’s a complicated situation.

Nowadays, colorism flourishes. The media fetishizes lightskins constantly. Stereotypically, they are beautiful because they have the “best of both worlds,” a problematic statement in itself (Eurocentric beauty standards, etc.).

I’ve been told I look Hawaiian, Lau, Brazilian, Costa Rican, Spanish, Mexican, Egyptian, South African, Algerian, Moroccan, Berber, Jewish, French, Haitian, Italian, Dominican and Indigenous. That’s the problem with racial ambiguity; everyone else thinks they know more about who you are than you do. At the end of the day, when the census comes around, I am Black.

In general, people say I shouldn’t complain. I have green eyes, tan-ish skin and “manageable” hair. I’ve been told I’m the ideal “lightskin.” Yet every time I look in the mirror I ask myself if I even look Black enough, Black enough to validate my position as BSU president or check the Black box on a form. My internalized colorism tricks me into thinking being Black means I have to be the same shade of black as the closest Black person I see.

I am “lucky” enough to have light skin privilege. Living in a white, rich area is the icing on the cake. I was born pale as a piece of paper with bright blue eyes that later turned green and

a head of blonde hair; I’ve always considered myself just mixed because of my appearance. Too white to be Black, and too Black to be white. My own family didn’t know how to handle my identity and invalidated my Blackness by making comments saying my skin was white and I had white-girl hair; they would call my hair anything but Black-girl hair. I don’t think they realized the impact those comments they made as jokes had on the development of my identity. I fell victim to comments not only from my family but my friends too. “Look I’m darker than you and I’m not even Black!” “You’re so uncultured for a Black girl.” “You’re probably here because of affirmative action.” Imagine how that makes a mixed kid feel. I feel alone still in my existence.

During freshman year, a boy asked if he could have the “n-word pass.” It spiraled me into a frenzied identity crisis because I hadn’t used the word before, and I didn’t know if I even qualified to say it since I’m half-white. Sure, I’m technically 50% sub-Saharan African, but do I even look Black? I used to ask myself every day. I felt the need to ask other Black people if I “counted.”

Here’s what I’ve learned: I do not need white or Black people’s acceptance to accept myself. I know where I come from. I am a manifestation of the enslaved and the enslavers. Genetics work in weird ways. However, that doesn’t invalidate my existence or my appearance. I call myself “lightskin” because it’s a way of putting my identity into one word. It’s a way of, in some words, validating my Black existence.

I don’t have to say, “Hi, I’m Sammie, a half-white, half-Black girl who looks nothing like her siblings and parents. I can wear braids and use a durag because I am Black, so it’s not cultural appropriation because it’s functional for my textured hair. Still, I realize I benefit from light-skinned privilege; however, I’m not saying I’m better than Black people darker than me in any way. Yet, even though I am mixed, I am Black,” because I know who I am. Somewhat.

L SAMMIE FLOYD On Being Light-Skinned

Menlo’s Efforts to Implement

by Sylvie Venuto

Menlo’s Equity, Diversity and Inclusivity program does not have a specific goal; rather, it “flows through a strategic planning process,” according to Chief of Institutional Equity, Diversity and Inclusion Keith Wheeler.

The program is divided into five priority areas plotted out in a five-year strategic plan, of which the school is currently in the second year. “We want our initiative to be very focused, we want it to be very streamlined and we want it to be extremely transparent,” Wheeler said.

The five priority areas in order are: United Campus Culture; Faculty of Color Recruitment and Retention; Equity, Diversity and Inclusion Professional Development; Academic and Social-Emotional Learning; Anti-Racist Learning and Policy Development. Under each of these umbrellas, the school has created a goal and strategy to achieve within the domain. For example, the goal for Faculty of Color Recruitment and Retention is to increase Menlo’s “highly qualified educators representing diverse backgrounds and ethnicities,” according to Wheeler. The strategy involves implementing anti-bias resume, review and interview training for all personnel involved in hiring.

consultant Milton Reynolds. During the 2020-21 school year these trainings have been centered around understanding race as a construct, according to Wheeler.

Professional development is training provided for faculty, staff, students and parents.

There were over 33 professional development sessions this year, a 55% increase from last year, according to Wheeler.

Across the four student sessions—open to alumni and students from other schools—in the 2020-21 school year, there was an average of 80 participants, according to Wheeler. Still, some of these students may have been motivated to join because they could earn community engagement credits, according to Junior Class President Sharon Nejad.

Some of these student meetings were led by Dr. Rodney Glasgow, who also spoke at a recent Upper School assembly. “Him bringing up things about intersectionality [and how] our identities are multifaceted [is] really important,” senior Celeste Aguilar said. “I feel like he shouldn’t be just reserved for EDI community nights. [...] Having him or people like him to be able to have talks without just being confined to a specific EDI thing would be great.”

“We are now transitioning to the [truly] complex work.”

Wheeler also emphasized the changing state of the EDI program from structural to cultural changes. “We are now transitioning to true, complex work. The work you will see in the current and future plans will be systemic, sustained and supported, and if done with fidelity, the work will be visible on campus-years from now. With regard to any type of EDI work, it is extremely nuanced, meaning the more positive transformation your school experiences, the harder the work becomes. A word to the wise: You never arrive, your school is constantly morphing. There is no perfect school. All learning is iterative. Transformation EDI work comes by way of taking risk and being vulnerable, coupled with being clear about your outcomes and how that will shape the lived experiences of all members of the school community,” Wheeler said.

In order to create these cultural changes, there are two different trainings: an anti-racist pedagogical shift training for teachers in grades six through 12 and a mandatory professional development series focused on race that is led by Wheeler and reasercher, author and EDI

DEMany teachers echoed this sentiment. “If this school is more serious about wanting to move towards social justice or equity, this is lifelong work. It’s infinite work. And so I feel if we try to package it so neatly in a 45-minute session without having any accountability or any type of homework or deep thinking process, it’s not going to work,” Upper School Creative Arts teacher Leo Kitajima Geefay said.

Some students found the after-school meetings to be more beneficial than the typical supervised discussions. “Sometimes if you leave just students, you let the students develop into themselves instead of being influenced by other adults in the room. [...] It lets them be themselves,” freshman Bernardo Oliveira said.

At the parent sessions, an average of 55 parents attended and an average of 43 teachers attended, Wheeler said. “[The eagerness among teachers and parents] makes me hopeful for the future when I’m able to see there are parents [who] do care,” Aguilar said.

While Wheeler observed a more diverse group of parents who attended the sessions, he did note that students who attended tended to be students of color. “I

Equity, Diversity and Inclusion

think it’s important that kids who aren’t people of color [have] these conversations as well. I think it might be even more important for them to have these conversations or even sit in on these conversations,” Nejad said.

DPeople have attended these professional development sessions from as far away as Beijing, China, as well as educators from the Los Angeles Unified School District, as they were held over Zoom, according to Wheeler. “We are truly reflecting inclusive practices by opening our professional learning opportunities to members outside of our four walls. Our work should not be sequestered to simply Menlo. We have a moral and ethical responsibility to share our joy in learning--show others the process, even if it is messy, frustrating and evolving. Again, I believe in order for an organization to become transformative, what’s learned within has to leave the campus in order to impact as many organizations, communities, homes and individuals as your learning will allow,” Wheeler said.

The series led by Wheeler and Reynolds has been content-centered this year, with a focus on the Upper School English, history and computer science departments. Teachers present information and share feedback at these meetings. “Before you can start getting to content and pedagogy, you have to have a foundation,” Wheeler said.

cy, ownership and resource allocation toward EDI as strengths of Menlo’s program. “I truly believe that we have a groundswell of momentum on our campus where the work is being taken seriously. I am working on pacing the school and not tribalizing the work. We/Menlo can’t afford to force people into self-selecting a side per se. This work is for the progression of a comprehensive learning organization — not an individual,” Wheeler said.

Wheeler emphasized the commitment of Head of School Than Healy and the Board of Trustees to EDI work. This year was the first with an EDI committee on the Board of Trustees, which includes parents, senior administrators, faculty and staff who have met for 90-minute sessions 16 times this year, according to Wheeler.

Still, the school’s campus culture requires significant improvement, Wheeler and students said. “The thing that I like most about Menlo is that we acknowledge that [we are not perfect] and we always try to make things better. I think we’re slowly starting [to make] some change, but we’ve barely scratched the surface,” Nejad said.

“I truly believe that we have a groundswell of momentum on our campus where the work is being taken seriously.”

Prior to Wheeler joining Menlo in the fall of 2018, the school had a history of participating in professional development surrounding EDI. Instead of Wheeler’s current position of Chief of Institutional Equity, Diversity and Inclusion, Dr. Angela Burks was the Director of Equity, Diversity and Inclusion. Wheeler was drawn to Menlo because of its consistent EDI efforts, such as how the school consistently attends the People of Color Conference or the Student Diversity Leadership Conference. “This was an institution that I had researched. I had no professional nor personal experience with independent schools. In my job search, I found a strong commitment from the head of school as it relates to EDI. There seemed to be clear connections between the community to faculty, but most importantly, the biggest selling point is that I walked into an institution that had clearly prioritized EDI work by way of a 5-year plan,” Wheeler said. Overall, Wheeler cites collaboration, transparen-

“Now, we’re moving to the cultural work, and the cultural work is the most difficult. It feels redundant. It can feel nagging. It can seem as if it moved at a glacial speed, but this is all strategic cadence of moving an entire school, not a specific cluster, group, or person. [...] When you go from a structural setting, where you’re establishing founding principles, and then you transition into the cultural EDI work, this is when you begin to ask critical questions about instruction and learning; you interrogate policies, and in some instances, you do a deeper dive in traditions, which could be rooted in very problematic practices. The cultural side of EDI work asks more philosophical questions, such as ‘Are we aligned to our mission?’ ‘Are the various resources we have on our campus available to all?’ ‘Are we fulfilling our educational mission to all students, to all families? If so, how do we know?’ And when you start to ask questions like these, now you’re engaged in the most uncomfortable but most purposeful work that doing EDI provides. I can confidently say that Menlo is now at the door of step transformation, and it feels right. It feels worthy, and there was no other institution I would prefer to do this work other than Menlo,” Wheeler said.

Despite my Hair

With my Hair, I am Beautiful

by guest writer Maya Debnath

A

s I have grown up, I’ve begun to discover who I am and where I exist in the intersection of all of my identities: as a woman, as an immigrant, as a Bengali. I have always taken pride in my appearance. I have been on an ongoing journey to find my personal style and express it in the way I want, especially with my hair. To different cultures, hair means a lot: whether it is the symbolism of how it is styled in ceremonies, whether its treatment is a tradition itself, whether it has, at times, been a crucial part of a groups’ survival, or played a large part in their oppression. Furthermore, to many people of color, it is a distinction from their peers. Curly hair is different; it’s a way of separating us from other people. As society dictates, the way in which we wear our hair determines the way that we are perceived.

Soon after I was born, I developed a full head of curly locks. No one else in my family had curly hair, so I was mostly left to figure it out on my own. In elementary school, sometimes it would get pulled or wrapped around a friend’s finger so they could “explore” it, but I never thought much of it because I was seven years old.

In middle school, this blissful ignorance changed. At first, I wondered why the two “it girls” straightened their only slightly wavy hair every day. I remember standing in a group with them and someone complimented how silky and soft their hair looked.That day, I went home and stared at myself in the mirror, at the frizzy mass on my head that I had recently cut to my shoulders in hopes to gain control of it, which hadn’t worked. Because I was never taught how to manage them, my curls had no definition. Just a lot of stray hairs which, I admit, was not something worthy of praise. But still, I didn’t know that there was a way to make my natural hair beautiful, so I asked my mom for the alternative: to buy a straightener. She shut me down really quickly, citing that in high school she had permed her hair to be curly and was always jealous of mine, so she refused to let me straighten it. I went to bed in tears that night.

Days later, I asked the popular girl why she never came to school with her wavy hair down. “Eww,” she replied. “Waves look so gross on me, and my crush says he likes it straight better.” I was struck. Did people really think my hair was ugly just because it wasn’t straight and soft and silky? Was the reason no one had a crush on me because my hair was rough and curly and frizzy? Well, it wasn’t my fault. I was born with it, so what was I supposed to do? Throughout the next three years, as my hair nat-

urally went through its phases, these questions were always in the back of my mind. Always.

The very first time I straightened my hair at summer camp in seventh grade, I remember looking in the mirror and thinking, “holy crap.” I looked … completely different. I looked mature. I looked normal. For the first time, I ran my fingers through the silky sheets that were somehow the same stuff as the previously tangled mop on my head. When I washed my hair, I was secretly devastated that I couldn’t keep my hair like that forever.

During my freshman year at Menlo, I kept the same mindset that I had in middle school. I had somewhat learned to control my waves/ curls through trial and error and only straightened to feel “extra pretty” for events like semi-formal.

I was at my lowest last year when I heard through the grapevine that “boys at Menlo won’t date girls with curly hair.” It may not be true, but it didn’t surprise me. And there it was, that seed that had been planted in my mind in seventh grade beginning to sprout rapidly again. And that idea painfully grew in my mind like a thorn bush. Some nights were spent on my pillow, convincing myself that no one would ever love me with hair like mine. My hair wasn’t beautiful. My hair wasn’t wanted. I wasn’t beautiful. I wasn’t wanted.

In November 2020, I finally began to love my hair. All of the time I spent in quarantine led me down a rabbit hole of learning about how to really care for my curly hair, and it was Black women on social media who taught me how to love and nurture it. I saw brown and Black people happy with it, not despite it. I spent hours upon hours researching and finally bought products I thought would help me the most. In the coming weeks, I saw almost a complete transformation. Not necessarily in my hair, but in my mindset. My curls became healthier, and so did my confidence.

I knew that I didn’t need validation from the boys in my grade who refuse to be attracted to someone on the basis of hair. I didn’t need validation from the rest of the world, judging me for hair that they don’t understand. To all of them, it’s just hair; but to us it’s so much more. I understand and appreciate that now.

Right now, I can say with confidence that I am proud of my hair. My unique, beautiful hair. It is a part of me, a part of me that I love. That isn’t to say that having curly hair is better than having straight hair. It’s that I can finally appreciate and understand other curly-haired women who go through similar and often more intense struggles than I do. And there is so much beauty and power in that, too.

You are like a reverse Oreo.

You must be good at math.

Do you worship cows?

Are you Black enough to say the n-word?

These are quotes that Menlo students of color have heard people say to them (shared anonymously).

Can you say something in your language?

You would have been a house slave during slavery.

Can I touch your hair?

Can I have the n-word pass?

You are so exotic.

by Sophia Artandi

SPOTLIGHT

Colby Wilson

Empowerment. Community. Responsibility. Honor. This is what being Black means to sophomore Colby Wilson.

Her middle school experience was very different from most Menlo students’: she attended a middle school in East Oakland, Ile Omode, where most of the students are Black. The hardest part for her was adjusting to the different environment at Menlo. “I wasn’t used to a grand campus and fights not breaking out almost every day. I also wasn’t used to a campus that wasn’t fully immersed in my own culture,” Wilson said. Though she feels honored to have a great education at Menlo, she said she loves her middle school and still feels close to the people there. Wilson chose Menlo over other private high schools she applied to for the community. “Yes, [it is] not as diverse as I want it to be, but I felt a connection. There wasn’t a separation between seniors and freshmen and varsity and JV,” she said.

is still hard. “You really have to put yourself in someone else’s shoes where you’re in a place where nobody’s like you [or is] experiencing the things you are,” Wilson said.

Wilson thinks that more can always be done when it comes to diversity. At Menlo, she said, the issue lies in the lack of conversations surrounding race and the tendency towards empty conversations. For example, people were shocked at the assembly led by Head of School Than Healy last school year about n-word use in the student body and cultural appropriation. “I feel like the administration does care, but I feel like [the rest of the community isn’t] aware of what’s going on,” she said, commenting on the racist incidents that took place last year. “We should know what’s going on so we can fight it.”

“ I think back to what my people went through, and I feel like I carry them on my back. I’m not just getting my education for me, I’m doing it for them.

Now, at Menlo, Wilson said that she has to find a middle ground between the two people she has to be, at school and at home. “I live a double life, almost, here and away from here,” she said. At school, she’s focused on her education, while at home, she hangs out with her old friends.

Though finding a balance between the “two faces [she] has to put on” can be difficult, Wilson said that she doesn’t feel isolated as a student of color at Menlo. “I’m getting better at blending the [faces],” she said. She also said she can’t speak for everybody, but she has no issues hanging out in an all-white group.

However, being a student of color at Menlo

Wilson linked the racist incidents to the absence of understanding regarding racial diversity and racism.

“It’s the teachers’ and the administration’s job [to] let people know what’s going on because a lot of students think everything is okay,” she said. “[Menlo is] a good school, but it’s not perfect.”

Despite the challenges she has faced as a student of color at Menlo and trying to maintain a middle ground between two seemingly-opposite worlds, Wilson cares a lot about her education and feels empowered by her race. “I think back to what my people went through, and I feel like I carry them on my back,” she said. “I’m not just getting my education for me, I’m doing it for them. I’m doing this for my family, I’m doing this for my friends back in Oakland. I feel like I have a duty to carry everybody, and my success is their success.”

An Alum’s Experience

Menlo 2020 alum and first-generation Latina college student Isabella Madruga reflects on imposter syndrome and her Menlo experience

by guest writer Isabella Madruga

Imposter syndrome. We’ve all heard about it, or at least felt it in one way or another without knowing the name. It isn’t a medical or official term, but just like senioritis, it’s a term that might as well be a medical diagnosis with how prevalent it is in teenagers and young adults, especially at Menlo. It can be incredibly damaging to one’s self-esteem and completely take away one’s sense of accomplishment, which in turn ruins one’s motivation to continue working hard and improving.

You got an A on a project? The teacher was just being lenient.

You won a prestigious award? The other submissions must have been particularly bad this year for you to have been able to win this.

You got into your dream school? It was a mistake. Or in my case, it’s all chalked up to affirmative action.

I’m a first-generation Latina college student. In fact, nobody in my immediate or extended family has attended college. It simply isn’t a thing people did or do. They graduate high school (if even that) and go straight into the job market. Not to say that that isn’t a valid career path, but many of them have expressed the desire to have had the chance to further their education and get a better-paying job or one that they are passionate about.

So, safe to say, my getting into college was a huge feat. Anybody would have been over the moon hearing this news. But because of

my imposter syndrome, I didn’t believe I got into college. I remember opening up my laptop, seeing my acceptance letter, and while my mom was screaming and crying out of pure happiness, I was busy trying to figure out if they had sent the letter to the wrong address. Perhaps they had gotten the wrong Isabella Madruga. I checked the email they sent it to (mine), who it was addressed to (me) and kept refreshing the page to see if it would be retracted or if I was reading the letter wrong (I wasn’t).

It wasn’t until the slew of informational and welcome emails started to pour into my inbox that I finally started to believe that I had gotten into Johns Hopkins University. However, the imposter syndrome didn’t stop there. I am now in college, sitting on my bed in my dorm on campus, and I still believe I don’t deserve to be here. I am beyond grateful to be here, but a part of me still believes that it was all affirmative action, that the only reason I was accepted was because of my ethnicity and first-generation status.

It doesn’t help when I hear other people joking about that to their friends, saying they only got into college because of a policy aimed to help people of color fulfill their dreams. Just that one joke stuck with me and still repeats in my head when I don’t understand something in class. Of course I don’t understand the reading; I only got in here because of my ethnicity. Not because of merit, not because of my intelligence, not because of my

passion and especially not because of my skills. I am not a good student; I got here due to luck.

If you feel this way or if anything I said resonates with you, especially the students of color at Menlo, you’re not alone. You are bright — that’s why one of the most prestigious and academically challenging high schools in America accepted you. Not because of your skin tone or what race or ethnicity you checked on a list, but because you show exceptional promise and intelligence, enough to get you through AP classes and sports and clubs and personal issues. I know an article from some alum you barely remember or don’t even know won’t get rid of these intrusive thoughts. Hell, I still have them, even in college. But you will get into college. And if you don’t want to go to college, then you will succeed in anything you do. You’ll have ups and downs, but the thing is, you need to celebrate the ups as being entirely and utterly you. Your accomplishments aren’t due to leniency, luck or special help; you did them yourself. If you need to read that sentence over again or repeat that to yourself every time you feel inadequate, please do so because there’s nothing sadder than a bright person not realizing their own potential and snuffing it out before they even get a chance.

At the time of writing this, you are in a pandemic. Learn to appreciate your self-worth while also recognizing when to take a break. This is a lifelong journey, but starting with little reminders will do wonders. The next time you get an A, be proud of your hard work. That A is utterly and entirely yours.

by Carly McAdam and guest writer Elisabeth Westermann

A How Race Impacts Menlo Admissions

s racial diversity and the experience of students of color are increasingly discussed at Menlo, we looked into how the Menlo admissions team builds a diverse class. Ultimately, the admissions team said they can only do so much in creating a culture of inclusion and acceptance, but they can focus on bringing many different types of people together and creating a class that will include a variety of different life experiences.

Menlo does not use quotas when looking at applications, according to Director of Admissions and Financial Aid Beth Bishop. However, Menlo does read applications “with an eye towards bringing together a diverse class,” Bishop said. Menlo considers many different types of diversity when reading applications. “It’s not just race,” Bishop said. “It’s socioeconomics; it’s geography; it’s religion; it’s family structures.”

Bishop feels that the words diversity and race are often used interchangeably, but that this usage is incorrect. “They are not the same thing at all,” she said. Ultimately, the goal of the admissions team is to “bring together a really diverse group of individuals so that [students’] classrooms are exciting and interesting because there [are] so many different experiences and voices in the room,” Bishop said.

school. This is in part because, according to Bishop, Menlo does not require applicants to declare their race on their application, so Menlo doesn’t have completely accurate data on how students identify racially. But, Bishop estimates that Menlo has similar diversity to its peer schools: “I think we can say with confidence that about half the school is non-white,” she said. According to these schools’ respective websites, Castilleja is made up of 58% students of color, Crystal Springs Uplands 54%, Woodside Priory “nearly” 50% and Sacred Heart 27%.

““I think we’re the fastest of some slow fish, but we’re getting there.”

The admissions team, however, can only craft a class that is as diverse as the applicant pool. Menlo’s applicant pool reflects the demographics of the Peninsula, according to Bishop. “I would say [we receive] more applications that are white and Asian than any other racial groups,” she said. Associate Director of Admissions and Director of Multicultural Outreach Vanessa Ortega agrees and points to California census data as a possible reason. “When you look at the census data from 2000 and 2010, underrepresented communities are being pushed out of the Peninsula, and that affects our applicant pool,” Ortega said.

Unlike many of its peer schools, such as Castilleja School, Crystal Springs Uplands School, Woodside Priory School and Sacred Heart School, Menlo does not publish any data on its website regarding the racial diversity at the

In recent years, the admissions team has been working to diversify the makeup of incoming classes even more. “I think we have made good strides helping [Menlo] to become a more diverse community in the past five years. Our percentage of students [of color] and financial aid has gone up,” Bishop said. According to Head of School Than Healy 55% of Menlo’s student body next year will be people of color, and the incoming sixth grade class will be 62% people of color. The percentages come from self-identification when parents enroll their kids at Menlo, according to Healy.

Healy acknowledges that American independent schools are struggling to do better, but he feels that Menlo is among the leaders. “I think we’re just the fastest of some slow fish, but we’re getting there. We’re working in the right direction,” Healy said.

The school has also worked to make the admissions process more accessible for prospective parents who don’t speak English fluently. The statement from parents that is required for every application can be written in the language the parents feel most comfortable with. This year, the admissions team received statements in Spanish, Mandarin and Japanese, according to Bishop.

In addition, on preview days for prospective families, the admissions team has done its best to make translation services available. “A couple of times this fall, [Associate Admissions Director Vanessa] Ortega has taken a Spanish-speaking family to her office to give them the information while me or [Associate Admissions Director Cindy] Lapolla is giving it in English to a larger group. [...] We’re doing all we can to try to make it accessible,” Bishop said.

Faculty of Color

Four teachers reflect on their experience teaching in a majority-white institution.

by Chase Hurwitz

Ihave to kind of do a lot of code switching, even though I’m an adult. The way I talk to my colleagues is not the same way that I talked to, for example, my students of color, or even the white students. I feel like I’m more myself with the students in general than I am with the faculty,” Upper School History Department Chair Carmen Borbón said.

Borbón was born in the Dominican Republic and moved to New York City when she was five. Later, she attended middle and high school in the Upper East Side where she felt like the odd one out. “I was the only Black girl in my grade,” Borbón said.

Now, at a school with a predominantly white student body and faculty, Borbón still feels the challenges of being the odd one out. “I’m always afraid of being tokenized. That’s one thing that I worry about. And then when I was hired, I always questioned: did they hire me because I’m qualified or did they hire me because they needed to tick a box off for their diversity check?”

Borbón’s experience as a faculty member at Menlo does not stand alone. Upper School Creative Arts teacher Leo Kitajima Geefay shared similar thoughts on being hyper-visible as a Japanese American. “I think on a professional level, one of the challenges

of just being an Asian American is that we’re thought to be the obedient types of people. So, we’ll be able to get to a certain level of authority or power or position, but we will never actually be at the top,” Kitajima Geefay said. “What I struggle with is when you try to pinpoint what mechanisms in place enable that. You can’t put a finger on it. That’s the whole thing about discrimination in general. It just gets more and more subtle, but you can sense it.”

Upper School science teacher Marc Allard cited the lack of diversity not only among faculty members but also among administrators. “Everyone acknowledges that having teachers of color is super important for the students. It should also be that we have administrators of color. I think that’s one area where the school is deficient,” Allard said. “We clearly do not have very many senior administrators of color, so when the school talks about wanting to move the needle and making progress on diversity, I applaud them for trying to do so for students and faculty, but I want to see them also do it for administrators.”

In Upper School Learning Resources, John Norris works with students who need extra support and guidance with their academics. He too notices the slanted demographics of the student body and faculty. “I really like Menlo,” Norris said. “I think it’s a great place. [...] With that said, it is a majority-white institution, so I do think there are a lot of things that I don’t blend in with necessarily.”

Students of color can be put in similarly uneasy situations. As a result, many of these teachers provide an outlet for their students of color with whom they share similar experiences.

Borbón is the faculty advisor for the Black Student Union and Latinos Unidos affinity groups. “I see myself as their mother on this campus,” Borbón said. “They feel like they can confide in me because they know that I under-

stand. I get it because I went through it, but also I know what it feels like to be the only one in a classroom or in an office, so they do come to me and I do feel a huge responsibility to them and also to their parents.”

Norris shares Borbón’s sense of responsibility toward their students. “I care a lot about a lot of students, many of whom are brown and Black students,” Norris said. “I do want to help provide that sense of comfort and community and make them feel comfortable in certain spaces on campus. I think they deserve that.”

Allard also believes in the importance of creating a comfortable environment for people of color, which is why he created an affinity group for faculty who identify as Asian American. “The teachers just appreciate having a space where they can just kind of let their hair down,” Allard said. “It’s not that I feel like I can’t talk about certain things with any faculty, but there are some things that, when talking with faculty of color, you feel more comfortable because you know they are going to just ‘get it’ right away.”

Kitajima Geefay uses his identity in order to encourage his students to explore their own identity in his music classes, a curriculum which is usually dominated by Western artists. “All I’m doing is trying to set that example so that people in my class feel not even just safe; I feel like safe is such a bare minimum,

Marc Allard

but feel like they’re encouraged to bring it up,” Kitajima Geefay said.

In the 2019-20 school year, white students were caught using racial slurs including the n-word. These racist incidents shook the Menlo community, causing some teachers to question the school dynamic.

Norris was in his first year at Menlo when these events occurred. “For a while it killed the excitement I had about Menlo,” Norris said. “It really made me wonder if everything I like about this place is actually just a facade. What actually happens when people who look like me are not in the room?” Although Norris is currently very enthusiastic about teaching at Menlo, these incidents forced him to question his stance on the school’s values at the time.

“Did you respect me at all as your teacher? Did you learn anything in my class? It kind of negates everything that I’ve done in the classroom in a way,” Borbón said. “It also hurt seeing my students of color who were devastated by the whole situation and just trying to navigate my own feelings about it while trying to help them. My goal has always been to make sure that all my students feel like they belong here and that they’re cared for.”

Hiring Faculty of Color

by Parina Patel

Hiring faculty is a long and difficult process at Menlo, but the challenges multiply when trying to find diverse faculty candidates.

Hiring itself is currently a struggle for every school around the world. “There’s a national teaching shortage; fewer people are going into education,” Dean of Teaching and Learning Bridgett Longust said. Menlo’s location is already an obstacle because of the high housing and living costs in towns near Menlo and in the larger Bay Area. “It’s very hard to hire people from outside this area who don’t have any connections or family ties,” Longust said. Furthermore, people who live in the Menlo Park and Atherton area are mainly white families, due to the history of the area. According to datausa.com, 70% of Atherton’s population is white and 60% of Menlo Park’s population is white. The hiring team attends education hiring fairs such as at Stanford University, where there were potential candidates graduating from the Stanford Teacher Education Program. “You look at the people who are coming out of that program and, you know, you wish that was more diverse,” Longust said. “So in some ways, Menlo reflects the demographics of [those] who already live here.”

To combat the financial struggle for all teachers, including teachers of color who have historically been financially disadvantaged, the hiring team is doing what they can

to support teachers who need extra resources. Menlo recently bought a second apartment building with four apartment units in it contributing to the total of 10 apartment units, according to Director of Human Resources Carla Diez-Canseco.

“We ensure that we’re a really well-paying institution and can attract the top talent. The more we can do to address the financial sustainability of teachers actually working here, the better chance we have of recruiting and attracting faculty

“ It's important to walk onto campus and see adults who look like you.

because they’d be able to see this as sustainable,” Director of Academic Innovation Maren Jinnett said.

Another obstacle that provides many challenges for the hiring team is that not many public school teachers know about independent schools due to their smaller size. According to Longust, the hiring team advertises positions online in different places where public school and charter school teachers would see them.

The hiring team strives to hire the best teachers no matter their background according to Longust. “We remain committed to hiring people who resonate with our values, and it is a high priority to find teachers who reflect the diversity of our student body. We’re making incremental progress on that, with more work to do,” Longust said.

Due to the struggles of hiring teachers of color, Menlo’s staff is skewed towards a white background. Of the total faculty of the 2020-2021 academic year, 24.17% are minorities. The Human Resources office at Menlo School counts minorities as those individuals who voluntarily and confidentially self-identify as being a member of the following categories as required for the Employment Information Report (EEO-1): Hispanic or Latino, Black or African American, Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander, Asian, American Indian or Alaskan Native and two or more races, according to Diez-Canseco.

In efforts to attract teachers of color, the hiring team works closely with networks within the Bay Area such as People of Color in Independent Schools (POCIS) by posting positions and going to their hiring fairs, according to Longust. She also explained that it’s important that Menlo is advertised as a “wonderful school and a great place to teach.”

“I fundamentally believe that students deserve to have a wide range of teachers to connect with on a wide variety of fronts. Age is part of it. Ethnicity is part of it. Life experiences are part of it. Kids find mentorship in so many different ways, and it’s important to walk onto campus and see adults who look like you, and that’s just crucial,” Jinnett said.

Nyla Sharma

by guest writer Nyla Sharma

Mon Microagressions in Sports

ore than 50% of high school students participate in a sport, according to US News. For many student-athletes like me, a sport defines my high school experience, but microaggressions can ruin that experience.

My name is Nyla Sharma, and I am a sophomore at Menlo. I have played water polo since I was nine, and I am part of the Menlo water polo and swim teams. While some may feel that Menlo is a world away from the microaggressions mentioned during recent protests and in the news, that is not true.

Microaggressions are often associated with the workplace, the classroom, and social settings. However, microaggressions are also prevalent in sports, where they can be detrimental not only to an individual athlete but also to the entire team.

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, a microaggression is “a comment or action that unintentionally expresses a prejudiced attitude toward a member of a marginalized group.” Many microaggressions follow a format of sorts. Something I’ve heard several times is, “Why aren’t you good at math? You’re literally brown.”

So how do microaggressions fit into sports? The Association for Applied Sport Psychology groups sports-related microaggressions into three categories: microassaults, which can be defined as “old fashioned, blatant racism”; microinsults, which are statements or actions that deny or ignore the experiences of an individual; and microinvalidations, which lead the victim to believe that nothing offensive was said or done. For instance, in middle school, another student in my grade called my friends and me “brownies.” Although my friends and I felt hurt, everyone else played it off as a joke. While “micro” is added to words like assaults, insults and invalidations, there is nothing insignificant about these actions.

As for sports, I’ve often heard statements such as, “Water polo isn’t an ‘Indian’ sport like golf and tennis are.” As a brown water polo player, it makes me feel awkward and out of place in my sport because I’m not

expected or “allowed” to play it. My first experience in water polo was on the Stanford junior polo team. Out of the 15 players on that team, only three were brown, including me. It wasn’t something that stood out to me at the time, but looking back now, I was one of three outliers on that team.

In other cases, microaggressions can involve confusing the names of two athletes of the same race when they look nothing alike, which I have experienced several times on different teams. While these comments may seem inherently passive, they can eventually destroy one’s self-confidence. It’s disheartening to feel as though you are not your own person and instead being grouped with others because you all look the same. It feels as if people don’t respect you enough to see you as an individual, especially when coaches mix up the names of the Indian kids who look nothing alike.

The main way to dismantle the norm of microaggressions is to be aware of them and call them out. Create an environment that builds student-athletes up, rather than putting them down. If you hear a teammate making an insensitive comment, explain to them why it’s wrong. By allowing microaggressions to slide, we teach aggressors that their behavior is normal and okay, which is when the problem arises.

A lot of my older relatives still question why I’m playing a “white sport.” But I am aware that those questions are microaggressions, and I continue to call them out.

by Sophia Artandi

SOFIA MUÑOZ PACHECO SPOTLIGHT

Sophomore Sofia Muñoz Pacheco was outside her history class with her friends before her first class. It was a cold February day, but she was wearing a skirt because she wanted to. “I was feeling myself. I was having fun,” she said. “Then, one of the students in a group near me said out loud but not directly toward me, ‘It looks like someone couldn’t afford to cover the rest of their legs today.’”

She was hurt, especially as a student on financial aid. “Experiencing that personally is so different from when you hear stories because in that moment, I froze. I was forced to sit with the emotion and shock of having a student say that,” she said.

A couple hours later, she attended the assembly where Head of School Than Healy spoke to the Menlo community about the racist incidents that were happening during the 2019-20 school year, including the semi-formal dance proposal by white students involving durags and the expulsion of a white student for use of the n-word and racist bullying. “I remember just feeling so dumbfounded because [I felt like Healy] was blaming all of these incidents on the student body and culture, [rather than addressing] the fact that the school was actually failing us and that they weren’t educating us,” she said.

Later that day, Muñoz Pacheco and friends gathered in the academic support room, a space she said is generally safe for students of color. She said someone was crying, and later a senior told her that he no longer wanted his diploma from Menlo. “We all felt so disrespected in the sense that we weren’t safe in our own community,” she said. “The main thing for me was how no one was check-

“spaces and not being heard,” she said. When asked what needs to change, Muñoz Pacheco specifically mentioned the disconnect between the students and the senior administrators. “If we are truly trying to make Menlo a more inclusive place, students and administrators should work together to create programs and curriculum that are going to benefit everyone, particularly [people of color]. Students cannot get any major institutional change made without senior administrators,” she said.

Muñoz Pacheco has also been asked to be photographed with Healy. “I definitely feel like my being Latina is paraded around. [...] It feels really alienating to see yourself in a picture with [Healy on your first day of school. I feel like I’m] basically just a show monkey,” she said.

Healy responded to Muñoz Pacheco’s quote above. “I’m really sorry that anybody feels alienated by any choice that we make as a school. We work really hard not to have that happen. [...] I would really encourage someone to say, ‘hey, look I’d rather not.’ That is totally reasonable, and I hope you’ll speak up if you’re not comfortable, especially if it feels marginalizing or alienating,” Healy said.

Muñoz Pacheco sees attending Menlo as a stepping stone and says her mental health has deteriorated throughout her high school years. She decided to go to a private high school because the name would help carry her to college, which is especially helpful as a soon-tobe first-generation college student. “I was only here to get through my four years, get my diploma and use the name,” she said.

Now, Muñoz Pacheco struggles with finding the

I’m really in [EDI] work because I’ve been hurt by my community, and this is something that I don’t want any other person to experience.

ing in with us, [aside from people of color] who directly understood our pain.”

Muñoz Pacheco said the administration needs to work on listening to the students. “If I’m being quite honest, I have gotten to the point where I’m losing faith in the administration’s ability to be accountable for [its] actions,” she said. She said they could be more accountable by releasing a statement acknowledging that Menlo is not a safe space for students of color. She also elaborated on the issue of accountability, referencing an experience where a teacher responded to a student of color’s experience at Menlo — “But things are getting better than they were before” — rather than helping the student.

“I am at a point where I don’t really care what they say. We are emotionally traumatized from being in these

“

balance between being a student and an educator. Some of what she’s been working on is attending the majority of the EDI Learning Nights, participating in Latinos Unidos, helping plan Menlo’s Unity Week and running the BIPOC @ Menlo Instagram account. “I shouldn’t have to fight for the ability to exist at Menlo without fear of a microaggression or something more serious like racial bullying that we have seen on our campus, but I cannot see people in my community struggle,” she said. “I want people to understand that I don’t do [EDI work] for [community engagement] credits. This isn’t a side project of mine. I’m really in this work because [I’ve been] hurt by my community, [...] and this is something that I don’t want any other person to experience.”

Society of the

South Pacific

by Parina Patel

Two years ago, Menlo’s Asian Pacific Islander (API) affinity group split into two individual affinity groups: the Society of the South Pacific (SOS) and the Asian American Alliance (AAA).

Juniors Lulu Kautai and Elenoa Fifita are the current leaders of SOS, Menlo’s first ever Polynesian affinity group.

The Menlo API affinity group was not split up because of differences among the members but because of their different experiences. “A lot of us don’t really connect to the Asians at school. We just have completely different cultures and traditions, so it’s

not really fair to clump us together,” Kautai said.

Upper school science teacher

Marc Allard was the advisor of API but now advises AAA. Allard was open to the split as he recognizes the difference in experiences among Asians and Polynesians at Menlo.

Upper School science teacher

David Spence and Admissions Associate Melanie Rossi are the advisors for SOS. Although they aren’t Polynesian, they are understanding and supportive of Polynesian students, according to Kautai.

The topics of SOS meetings can differ, but what’s most impactful is the student interaction at Men-

lo. “We talk about how we fit in on campus, like our comfort with other ethnicity groups. Something that’s really hard for us is that we tend to group together, which can be a good thing, but it takes away from the experience when you’re only hanging out with people who come from the same group as you,” Kautai said.

“We encourage [students in the affinity] to go out and socialize with other groups. Because my friend group only consists of people with similar backgrounds, we don’t want the underclassmen to do so as well,” Fifita said.

Kautai and Fifita further mentioned the differences they see in

Photo by Bella Guel

“

My parents and my siblings see a different side of me at home compared to when I’m at Menlo.

Menlo’s community, which makes creating connections and relationships with other racial and ethnic groups. “Especially going to Menlo where there’s such a wide range of socioeconomic statuses and ethnicities, it’s just really hard to relate to someone that’s on the opposite side of the spectrum. It’s not like we don’t like each other or that we’re rivals, but it’s just hard to connect,” Kautai said.

Beyond the student life at Menlo, Kautai notes the difficulty some members of SOS see in the classroom with teachers. “Outside of the few teachers that [the students in our group] know they can depend on, they kind of feel like they can’t go to or don’t feel as

comfortable with the rest of their teachers,” Kautai said.

In the classroom, Fifita is a different person. “Usually, I’m quiet in class just because if I use too much slang, I might be seen as too ghetto,” Fifita said. Furthermore, she struggles to find a balance between the two lives she lives. “My parents and my siblings see a different side of me at home compared to when I’m at Menlo,” Fifita said. “I always feel the need to move between my Menlo ‘me’ and my home ‘me’ [...] Because I spend more time at school being the Menlo ‘me,’ sometimes when I’m home, I’ll continue to be the Menlo ‘me,’” Fifita said.

What the co-leaders have recognized this year is how many more meetings they are included in, including city council and Mental Health Committee meetings. “I don’t think our leader before had as many meetings as we do now, [and] it’s interesting to [ask] why now.” Fifita said.

“I think over the pandemic people have probably had a long time to reflect on things. You kind of notice that you miss out on a lot of different people’s perspectives,” Kautai said. “So, we have been much more involved in not just our affinity group but with other people and other groups who want our input, and that’s really important to us.”

Beginning the Shift Away From

Eurocentricity

by Sylvie Venuto

The Menlo Upper School offers over two dozen different history courses, yet many of these classes, no matter their topic, are primarily focused on white, European history.

“One of the things that I [...] set out to do [during] my first year as [History] Department Chair is to make the curriculum less Eurocentric,” Upper School History Department Chair Carmen Borbón said during the 2019-20 school year.

One tangible point of change was in the Modern World History curriculum. Over the 2020 summer, Borbón, along with Modern World History teachers Esther Mansdorf, Saletha Okunnuga and Katina Ballantyne, re-worked the Modern World History curriculum to expand its focus toward a more global perspective, according to Mansdorf.

Through backwards planning — looking at goals for students to have learned at the end of the unit and then planning out what to teach each class block based on those objectives — the Modern World History team added in new perspectives, said Okunnuga. Changes included the addition of the French Revolution’s impact on Latin America, more coverage of the Haitian Revolution and the Mexican Revolution, the impact of the Cold War on Latin America and the Middle East and decolonization in a wider breadth of countries, according to Mansdorf.

ropean countries or focus entirely non-European countries, Borbón said that “The rest of the courses are fairly Eurocentric.”

“For the electives, I don’t have as much choice [in the focus of the classes] because teachers propose courses, and if I don’t have somebody who can teach a class, it doesn’t run,” Borbón said, emphasizing the struggle of finding teachers who are both knowledgeable enough about a specific topic as well as being willing and available to teach a class.

Hanson described her choice to teach the Modern Middle East class as a result of a Venn diagram. “I think about the [...] overlap of what would really benefit Menlo students and what I am capable of teaching effectively,” Hanson said. “The Modern Middle East course has been invigorating for me since it has required a lot of new background learning on my part. Fortunately, my students have been patient with my own learning curve. I am proud of the non-European voices and experiences we study in that class, and they are not always easy to come by.”

“We’re constantly improving and innovating and changing our curriculum to make it more global.”

While the members of the Modern World History team appreciated the steps they have taken towards decreasing Eurocentricity in Menlo’s history courses, they also acknowledged that the classes can and should still be improved. “One of the most important parts about this work is that it’s never done. We’re constantly improving and innovating and changing our curriculum to make it more global, and I think even looking ahead to next year, we already have all these ideas of new topics and units that we want to expand on,” Mansdorf said. Borbón attributes the Eurocentricity in junior and senior elective classes to two variables: teacher willingness to teach classes and student interest in those classes. While some courses, like history teacher Matthew Nelson’s Global Issues for Global Citizens elective and history teacher Katharine Hanson’s Peace: the Modern Middle East elective, either evenly incorporate non-Eu-

In contrast to the non-Eurocentric Modern Middle East class, Hanson is teaching Advanced Placement European History, a class added to the Menlo History department in the 2020-21 school year. Hanson, who taught the class for 10 years at Menlo before the class was no longer offered, recognizes the Eurocentric focus of the class (“What could be more Eurocentric than a yearlong class on European history?” she said), yet plans to make the class as globally-oriented as she can.

“Europe has always had a diverse population, so I don’t feel that AP Euro takes away from my mission of having a diverse and inclusive curriculum,” Borbón said.

“Growing up, my history curriculum was Eurocentric in nature and as a student of education, I learned the same Social Science Content Standards that my former teachers had used. So, as an educator, I have had to reevaluate which aspects of history are deemed important and create space for content that is reflective of the global majority. Bringing multiple perspectives to the classroom is an ongoing effort, but providing my students with a holistic understanding of history is a passion that brings me great joy,” Okunnuga said.

by Sophia Artandi

n the final week before this magazine’s publication, we interviewed three student leaders who have been part of our team since the early stages about what impact they personally would like to see this magazine have.

While one of the main goals of this project was to elevate voices of color, junior Anisa Abdulkariem, president of the Middle Eastern Affinity Group, hopes that it will also be helpful to white people. “I’m really excited for other people to understand our stories,” she said. “[Everyone] should be in the loop about these issues. Even if you feel a bit lost or ignorant sometimes, you can take that and turn it around and [say], ‘I want to learn more and I want to get more engaged,’ and ‘How can I have a better understanding of your perspective?’”

Senior Celeste Aguilar, co-president of Latinos Unidos, agreed that she hopes these stories will help build empathy in the Menlo community. She also highlighted the significance of race conversations that take place in the classroom. “I’m not asking you to agree with me. I just want you to understand where I’m coming from,” she said. “I hope that people learn how to listen, instead of constantly coming up with points to refute.”

Sophomore Montse Contreras, co-president of Unity Club, hopes that these stories will lead to an interest in social justice among Menlo community members. “I think articles and newspapers begin the conversation, but conversation at Menlo isn’t enough. We’ve constantly been talking about starting a conversation,” she said. “What needs to happen is movement.”

All three students emphasized the importance of having this project not be the last The Coat of Arms does on race. “If these [conversations] only happen once, then they’re not very effective,” Abdulkariem said.

The Coat of Arms will continue working with all the voices in our community to tell stories that often go untold, as well as welcoming any guest writers or new members to our staff. We, too, hope that this magazine will serve as an opportunity for growth and reflection in our community.

I LOOKING AHEAD