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“In diversity lies strength and it is up to our society to find it. Amid each chromatic hue, there is a story. Within each color, a narrative.”
These were the opening sentences to a scholarship essay that I wrote as a senior in high school going through the admissions process back in 1999. That essay earned me the Diversity Achievement Award and an opportunity to afford to go to a four-year university. My journey back then and my experiences now living as a half-Japanese Asian American who has been in the college admissions profession have deeply informed my staunch endorsement of race-conscious admissions and affirmative action, whatever the Supreme Court decides.
Born and raised in a tiny rural community on the Oregon-Idaho border that was settled by hundreds of Japanese Americans postinternment, I wasn’t aware of how receiving that award and others would shape my life. Without it, I might have stayed closer to home, choosing to finish my associate degree in order to save money. Instead, I find myself with a master’s degree in educational leadership and policy working in admissions for nearly two decades in multiple organizations, including large public universities, a community college, a nonprofit and a Hawaiian culture–based educational institution.
My life has been shaped by multiple paradoxes, dual identities and the myth of the model minority. On one hand, I see the valedictorian, prom king and class president with a 4.0 grade point average, embodying the overachieving Asian. On the other, I hold on to the stories of my family and community still recovering from the wounds of internment, injustice and systemic racism.
These tales are filled with echoes of my own, from Jared and Dustin calling me a Jap on the playground, strangers asking me not where I’m “from” but where I’m “like really from,” being mistaken for another Asian over and over (hi, Victor), and a racist boss at a college making microaggressive comments about my “tired and unengaged” eyes and general tone, overall manifestations of the stereotypes of being unassertive and unattentive when quiet and the fire-breathing dragon when having an opinion.
The model-minority stereotype can ignore the struggle that many in the community face—the immigrant working multiple minimum-wage jobs to make ends meet who wants to enroll in a trade program, the refugee experiencing language barriers applying to an ESOL program and the Pacific Islander student navigating the cultural disconnect between their values and Westernized education when they pursue higher education on the continent.
Amid each of us, there is a story and a narrative. Race—right along with many other interests, accomplishments, extracurriculars, grades, test scores, academic histories, life experiences, essays and personal backgrounds—is most certainly a part of that story, and dismantling race-conscious admissions policies takes away the ability to recognize these disparate experiences.
The argument that affirmative action discriminates against Asian Americans is misleading at best, and the argument that spots are “stolen” from anyone is fundamentally flawed. Admissions decisions are complex, holistic evaluations of a student’s potential for a college community. They are not, and should not solely be, dependent on grades and test scores.
A great student is much more than that, and we should want that to be reflected in our student bodies. While socioeconomic status is undoubtedly a crucial factor, race cannot be dismissed. The two are often intertwined, amplifying the challenges faced by underrepresented students. Our admissions processes should reflect factors that consider our complete identities, not just collective parts and segments of us.
This is where race-conscious admissions play a vital role. Our identities shape our worldviews, and diverse experiences enrich the educational environment for all students. When I served as an admissions reader at one of the nation’s most highly selective public research universities, I witnessed how the nuances of individual experiences—beyond the metrics—contributed uniquely to the admissions process. Moreover, during my tenure at a Hawaiian culture–based educational institution, I saw the power of finding identity, preserving cultural heritage and providing opportunities for historically marginalized groups.
By upholding an admissions preference policy for students of Native Hawaiian ancestry, orphan and indigent backgrounds, bequeathed in the will of Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop, it’s about something much more: prioritizing cultural preservation, language and values; counteracting historical injustices; affirming the rights of Indigenous people; honoring legacy; being antiracist; empowering marginalized and traumatized populations; and promoting educational equity.
Affirmative action isn’t just about leveling the playing field. There is empirical evidence illustrating its tangible benefits. Study after study consistently shows the value of diversity in education. Research demonstrates that diversity fosters cognitive growth, self-confidence and leadership skills in students. Another study indicates that interactions with racially diverse peers enhance students’ complex thinking skills. Affirmative action is not solely an issue of fairness, but also one of enriching the academic experience for everyone involved.
In some ways, race-conscious admissions policies are about creating and shaping a class to meet institutional goals and providing equal opportunities for those who have been left on the margins. It is acknowledging all of who we are and not part of who we are, seeing and recognizing color, our lived experiences, our differences, our similarities, our histories and our values. Denying race is denying a chapter from a student's story. As we await the Supreme Court’s verdict, I stand in support of these policies that have served as hope for these principles and values. In diversity lies strength, and it is up to our society to find it.
