As the post-Green Key crunch sets in and prospects of final papers, projects and exams loom on the horizon, my rising stress levels have been accompanied by a strange sense of nostalgia for my first year of college. It seems like yesterday that I donned my cap and gown and received my high school diploma. Before arriving in Hanover last fall, I had never lived anywhere else but my humid, mosquito-ridden home of Miami, Florida. As a native Miamian I did more than jam out to Mr. 305 and eat pastelitos. Nevertheless, these were my cultural surroundings. Spanish was my first language. Cuban coffee was my breakfast accompaniment of choice before my training wheels came off. My third-grade class sang an off-key version of the Guantanamera for my elementary school’s “Hispanic Heritage Day.” In short, saying that my first few months in the Northeast have been “different” is a vast understatement. Frequently referred to as an extension of Latin America, Miami-Dade County is 64.3 percent Hispanic/Latino according to 2012 census data. My freshman class at Dartmouth is 7 percent Latino. Many would view this as evidence to Dartmouth’s homogeneous student body. And yet, I could not disagree more. Whether or not we choose to acknowledge it, Dartmouth is diverse.
In my first year, I have crossed paths with individuals of various backgrounds that I would never have met in my predominantly Hispanic home. In this way and others, I have come to truly appreciate Dartmouth’s eclectic student body. As a Hispanic female, I chose Dartmouth because of its diversity, because I wanted something different. While this may mean that I am now a “minority” on campus, this has been rather refreshing. For once, there aren’t at least 10 other Perez’s in my class. If I had wanted a community of students who shared my culture, who spoke my language, who even had a similar physical appearance, I would have stayed home, sipping my cafecito, perfecting my Spanglish and attending the University of Miami. For once, I am different, and this is something that I have come to embrace as part of my Dartmouth experience. After reflecting on my experience, I have come to realize that diversity is relative. I find criticisms of Dartmouth’s lack of diversity to be largely unfounded. A place where 64.3 percent of the population shares your heritage lacks diversity. Dartmouth, however, does not.
As a small liberal arts college in the Northeast, Dartmouth actually does quite well in terms of diversity. According to fall 2013 data, the College’s student body is 7 percent African American, 7 percent Hispanic/Latino(a), 16 percent Asian American and 4 percent Native American. The population of New Hampshire pales in comparison. In 2012, the state’s population was 1.4 percent African American, 3 percent Hispanic/Latino(a), 2.4 percent Asian and .3 percent American Indian and Alaska Native. In this instance as well, diversity is relative. Students who rail against Dartmouth’s “diversity deficit” would do well to locate Dartmouth in this broader context. The fact of the matter is that the College is diverse, especially when compared to its surrounding area or cities like Miami, where I come from, that have high concentrations of certain racial or ethnic demographics.
This is not, however, a call for complacency. The College should continue to pursue greater diversity in its student body, faculty and staff. When harnessed, diversity can be a force for positive change. It fosters dialogue, and in turn, greater understanding. However, let us not forget the progress made thus far. Just over 10 percent of students in the Class of 1976 identified as racial minorities. 36 percent of the incoming Class of 2018 identified as African American, Asian American, Latino/a or Native American. These figures in and of themselves refute claims that Dartmouth lacks diversity. Such sweeping generalizations are problematic, and the students who make them should realize that time has passed and the face of Dartmouth continues to change. Diversity is relative.
Sarah Perez '17 is a contributing columnist.
