By Betty Chen
We’re well past April first now, which is both a day for April Fools’ and the national college notification date. Some of my friends received good news, some bad. But what I really want to talk about is what happened after I was accepted.
Magically, after the flurry of decisions at the end of April, I went from an over-represented minority they didn’t need any more of to being one of those ‘sought-after’ minorities, all in the name of ‘Diversity.’ Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of my Asian heritage, and I wouldn’t give it up for the world. But now, it seems to be all schools care about: that I am Asian and in need of some reassurance that they welcome my Asian-ness.
After I got into the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, the school sent me a email that invited me to ‘Decision Days:’
“The Office of Diversity and Multicultural Affairs invites you and your family to join us for this special event, which is designed especially for African American, American Indian, Latina/o, Asian American, low income, rural, and other students from historically underserved populations.”
Wait a second, now we’re all one big category of ‘minority’? All of these ethnic groups have vastly different histories and heritages, not to mention that it’s not just race UNC is trying to tackle here in one fell swoop: it’s class and location issues too, all in one special program!
And then, I got to my mailbox today. There was a large brown envelope from Wake Forest University—scholarship money! And then I read to what was expected of me: to “make a significant contribution to the University, including but not limited to the Multicultural Community.” Furthermore, in order to keep the twelve thousand dollar a year scholarship, I would be required to be “an active member of the Multicultural Ambassadors in Admissions program.”
That’s pretty odd for a scholarship. Typically, there’s a GPA requirement, but here, I would have to basically be Asian to keep the money for four years. And I didn’t just have to work for Admissions; I have to work for Admissions as a Chinese student—as a ‘Chinese’ student who will tell new students how wonderfully diverse WFU is! (I’ve replied to the offer in an open letter to the Dean of Admissions.)
But these are just two of the more outrageous One-Minority-Fits-All Diversity letters I’ve gotten, and they all make me in equal parts uncomfortable and frustrated. I mean, I’m Chinese, but that’s certainly not how I’d define myself (I’d go with dancer first!). On some level, I’m probably more culturally ‘suburban American’ than anything else, really.
So please, colleges, treat me like the individual I am. I gave you a lot of my heart in my essays about who I am— that’s my contribution to your school, not some misguided attempt to court my ‘Diversity.’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: I’m a Texan Chinese-American college-bound senior who has cravings for sea salt dark chocolate and limeades from Sonic. In my free time, I read literary critical theory and ruminate on ways to become a better person and dance down the hallways. (No, I lied. I actually watch the West Wing.)
