By Lorise Diamond

I am interested in space— Not outer space but rhetorical space; racialized public space. 

Every space, whether real or imagined, holds its inhabitants’ values, beliefs, and attitudes. Writing a paper about digital space, a 2015 article by Yale sociology professor Elijah Anderson appeared in my search results: “The White Space.” Serendipitously, he summed up my thoughts about public spaces entirely, suggesting that public spaces are invariably and intentionally white, dominated by settler colonialist ways of being and knowing, and quite often occupied by a White majority. Pointedly, Anderson argued that “city’s public spaces, workplaces, and neighborhoods” are white spaces; spaces that Black, Indigenous, and People of Color must navigate to exist. “White Space” refers to spaces where whiteness and White people belong, and BIPOC can receive quick reminders that we do not. 

Sounds familiar.

As both a student and an educator at a predominantly white Hispanic-Serving Institution (HSI), I catch what Anderson’s argument means for us. Attending a PWI means existing in white space. The federal government designates universities with a certain population as minority-serving institutions. There are Historically Black Colleges and Universities, Hispanic-Serving Institutions, Asian-Serving Institutions, and Native-Serving Institutions. Even though those institutions hold minority-serving status, they remain predominantly white (PWI). Therefore, minority-serving institutions exist in white space. 

A white space’s dangers, toils, and snares are often harsh enough to repel BIPOC students or form significant roadblocks, such as reduced enrollment rates, impediments to academic progress, or prolonged matriculation. Mindful of those obstacles, I recognize multicultural centers as refugee or fugitive spaces specified for Students of Color. Multicultural spaces provide racially inclusive environments where students can escape the perpetual violence caused by racist aggression and implicit bias.

Racial aggression and implicit bias brutally induces a self-segregated university social scene. Unfortunately, racial segregation among university students, faculty, and staff is a contemporary reality due to an education system steeped in exclusionary whiteness. When racism and white supremacy ignore and push People of Color aside, People of Color connect with each other to find and create welcoming spaces — multiracial, multiethnic spaces — colloquially known as multicultural spaces where we can socialize, study, and learn in an inclusionary manner.

Sometime between the initial petition filing in 2016 and after George Floyd’s murder prompted the university to announce a 20-point implementation plan in summer 2020, Arizona State University provided students with a multicultural space where a heated exchange involving two White male students and a few Students of Color went viral before news outlets picked up the story. The men were perceived to be agitators. I first read the story in The Chronicle of Higher Education and later a more thorough account in The New York Times. One critical factor screamed at me during my second reading, a power dynamic with what proved to have little to do with the trouble between students inside the space. My concern became this: minority-serving institutions promise diverse and inclusive environments for students, faculty, and staff. Arizona State University is an HSI with a campus roughly the size of a city with precisely one room in that vast city designated as a multicultural space. One or even two designated multicultural spaces on campus fails to meet a diverse student populations’ needs and  misses the racially inclusive mark.

Overt racists do not want us around them. In my experience, unless a given class has an Ethnic Studies bent, a person can count the number of Black students on one hand, an almost even number of Latinx and White students, while Indigenous, Asian, and Pacific Islander students comprise the rest. I note numbers because they offer a compelling image. Students from historically overlooked ethnic groups tend to sit grouped together in the classroom and rarely socialize in racially integrated ways outside mandated social or educational events. Neither racists nor Students of Color seem interested in getting to know each other. 

And sadly, I hear complaints from Students of Color. They complain about feeling ignored by White students, professors, and staff members. They feel unwanted, unwelcome; hence the desire for inclusive spaces.

However, much like the HSI’s where I grew into a professional, ASU faculty, administrators, and donors protested vehemently before the board of trustees conceded to demands for a multicultural space. Why did it take George Floyd’s tragic death to persuade ASU administrators to designate its multicultural space? Among the plethora of plausibles, a thought emerges. 

Beyond the heinous act that captured global attention and ushered in a national racial reckoning, I search for meaning regarding refusals and resistance to allowing Students of Color inclusive campus spaces. Securing funds and finding locations, contractors, and facility space cause valid delays. However, I know overtly racist behavior. It grows from fear, stimulates contempt, and is subversive enough to impede social progress by invoking “unforeseen” delays. 

“Be patient.”

Underlying those initial concerns, it seems that overtly racist folk oppose providing BIPOC a space to recuperate from the daily barrage of insults and hostilities endured on campus. Racist educators want us alone and vulnerable in white space, a non-threatening position that ultimately prepares Students of Color for academic and, by social extension, professional failure. We Black and Brown folk are people who need people. We possess a sense of agency and historically make a way out of no way — we find and create inclusive spaces. If a PWI constitutes a white space, then Black, Indigenous and other Students of Color comprise guests, sojourners, passing through White folks’ house. Etiquette dictates a hearty welcome from White folks. Morality demands concessions and resources.

The onus to extend a relational olive branch should not be placed on Students of Color. 

Stubbornly, I took far too long to accept the necessity for campus non-exclusionary spaces. I believed, regrettably, that subjecting students to harmful learning and social environments that disregard their humanity and inflict emotional pain would help strengthen their adaptability and fortify their resolve to survive, if not thrive, in a white-dominated workforce. They — we — get enough of that outside academia. Now, I see and recognize the resistance to installing multicultural spaces as full-blown racism. I urge White racists to reimagine their spaces because contrary to popular belief white space isn’t ubiquitous. 

Lorise “Rise” Diamond, a Ph.D. student in Cultural Studies, holds an M.A. in Rhetoric and Writing Studies and a B.A. in Communication with minors in Sociology and Interdisciplinary Studies from San Diego State University. Her work explores how power influences cultural evolution in material and symbolic ecologies at the nexus of race, gender, and sexuality. Rise is an experienced university lecturer and social justice entrepreneur who directs an education-centered 501(c)3 organization: Linguistic Communication Development Center.