Duke’s entering Class of 2009 contained the highest percentage of Asian students that the University had ever enrolled, at least at the time.
Asian students comprised 21 percent of the class, according to an August 2005 press release. Director of Undergraduate Admissions Christoph Guttentag confirms that this number has remained relatively steady, hovering between 20 percent and 25 percent within the past five years.
What do these numbers mean? Are they “too high” or “too low”? What are we using to determine this, and should it even be something we judge at all?
When it comes to college admissions, our society is far from colorblind. Race matters—and not just because universities, including Duke, use it as one measure of the diversity in their student bodies.
Universities like to say that they don’t admit students in categories—hypothetically, there is no ceiling to the number of Asian applicants they will admit. But the numbers don’t back this up.
Boston Globe reporter Kara Miller wrote about the discrimination Asians face in the college admissions process in a Feb. 8 article, “Do colleges redline Asian-Americans?” She cited research from a Princeton sociologist, Thomas Espenshade, who reviewed data from 10 elite colleges and found that, in terms of SAT scores, Asian applicants “typically need an extra 140 points to compete with white students.”
Granted, at selective schools, the admissions process is defined by its nuances, and it is never really a matter of the smartest kids getting in. And many other factors—such as legacy status and athletics—come into play and distort the picture. But there’s no denying that, based on the pure numbers, it’s statistically harder for Asian applicants to gain admission to elite universities.
In many ways, this reality upsets me. I think of my younger brother, who will be applying to colleges in the fall. I cringe to think that nothing he does can change the fact that he is an Asian male, a label that automatically pitches him against other members of one of the most competitive racial groups for admission. Sure, he can check the “do not report” box, but his last name will likely still betray him.
I think of Asian friends from high school. They watched crestfallen as less academically successful minority and white peers gained admission to the most selective universities while they were denied. I think about the competitive nature of Asian communities in my hometown, and see clearly the sacrifices that many parents, including my own, have made to support their children’s educations. Why should these same families, many of which are immigrant households in which parents speak little or no English, be essentially punished for creating home cultures that place a premium on education?
So what is the alternative? What would happen if elite schools threw race to the wind and started admitting more Asian applicants?
The picture in my head—that of a Duke comprised of nearly twice as many Asian students than currently—is not appealing. To get a sense of what that might be like, we can look to California, where government institutions are banned from discriminating based on race. At public universities, Asians typically make up about 40 percent of the student body, though they account for only 13 percent of California residents. Some of these Asian students have expressed that they feel less prepared for the real world in terms of intercultural skills than they would had they attended a school in which less people looked like themselves.
I feel strongly that I have benefitted from attending a diverse school. While defining “diversity” should never be restricted to race—or culture, or background—I have personally grown so much from living and learning at a university that seeks to attract a range of students, with race as a factor. Sure, the racial landscape at Duke is far from perfect. Cliques exist, and self segregation is very real. Simply putting diverse students on one campus does not guarantee that they will mix and mingle—but it is a first step.
At Duke, we are often afraid to discuss these and other issues involving race, for fear of appearing politically incorrect. We censor our true opinions because their expression may paint us as insensitive to others’ experiences. Race can be a touchy subject.
The problem is that by shying away from talking about race in an honest manner, we shove these topics under the rug even more. We end up creeping around our true feelings, deferring to numbers and statistics at the expense of our own experiences. We should remember that a subtle difference separates constructive contributions from offensive ones: the existence of sensitivity and vulnerability. In other words, a distinction exists between political incorrectness and insensitivity.
It’s okay to talk with peers about race in a personal manner. It’s alright to ask questions in an effort to understand others’ experiences and how these have shaped their opinions. We should not feel confined to discuss race in an academic sense, as if it exists only in the abstract.
And in the end, it is okay to not know what to think. As long as we have allowed ourselves to feel.
So where do I come down in the debate about race-based admissions? How should I reconcile my conflicting thoughts? I don’t know. I know how I feel, but I’m not quite sure yet what I think. And in the end, that’s OK.
As long as we have allowed ourselves to feel.
Ying-Ying Lu is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Thursday.
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