Iam not what the The Daily Prince tonian looks like.
Ndeye Thioubou’s Opinion col umn for this issue, calling for more Black voices from inside the ‘Prince,’ tells the story perfectly. No matter how close I grow to the ‘Prince’ community, and the more of an insid er I become, that reality rings clearly. A quick glance across the newsroom at any meeting, at any time of day, would tell you so. Being Black at the ‘Prince’ — being Black at Princeton — oftentimes demands that we tokenize ourselves, our experiences, and our community in acts of performative demonstrations of diversity on cam pus.
Why, then, would I want the ‘Prince’ to publish a special issue on Black Princetonians? Is it not just another product that exists to tokenize the community — a way to say “Look, we’ve done it?”
I understand the sentiment of those who might think this special issue is exactly that: tokenization. This col lection of stories is not revolutionary, it is not transformative; it shouldn’t even be special.
The Black community is rarely fea tured in the pages of the ‘Prince.’ And when it is, it only attracts attention in instances of collective trauma — when a professor says the n-word, an other professor calls Black activists terrorists, or there is a global racial reckoning.
That is exactly why I have support ed and led this project. This issue is a celebration of Black Princeton: of Black joy, of Black history, of Black activism, of Black culture, of Black art. It celebrates Black Princetonians on a normal week in December. It doesn’t seek validation during a heri tage month, on a holiday, or anniver sary. It just is.
To a large extent, the ‘Prince’ does not actively seek out coverage of the Black community. And, when it does, more often than not coverage origi nates at the request of a Black staff er — this issue stands as proof. But, through the compilation and coverage of Black communities and concerns on campus, I hope this collection will be the first step of many to seeing Black voices in our pages week after week.
The Black community is not the only marginalized community to suffer from the same systemic lack of care. The ‘Prince’ needs to build structures for equitable and inclusive coverage because none of this is “special.” I will continue to push the paper to do so. It is a tired trope, but representation matters. This organization’s promise as a community paper — the histor ical record of this campus — is not realized if we neglect so many facets of this very community.
To the greater Princeton communi ty: join the ‘Prince’ in this celebration. Take the time to learn from Black voic es, from Black stories. Question what you value as newsworthy, and what you view as the Princeton experience.
The Black Princeton community is a community I am endlessly, and unabashedly, proud to be a part of. Thank you to everyone who took the time, effort, and energy to share their voice with us.
I promise: this time will not be the last.
Eden Teshome is an Associate Podcast Editor and staff news writer at the ‘Prince.’ She served as the lead project manager of the “Black voices: Then, now, and forever” issue. She can be reached at edenteshome@princeton.edu.
The Akan word ‘Sankofa’ means “it is not taboo to fetch what is at risk of being left behind.” Sankofa is often depicted as a mythical bird, with its neck turned backwards, even while it is flying forward. Naming the annual fashion event after this symbol encapsu lates the experience of many people among the Black and African diaspora at Princeton: the metaphorical back-turned neck gives them a chance to look back at and engage in their cultures, even while in the Orange Bubble.
The board leaders of the Sankofa Fashion Show Committee, Anastasia Achiaa ’25 and Max Diallo Ja kobsen ’24, along with designer Ayinde Bradford ’24, sat down with The Daily Princetonian to speak about the event. ***
The conversation below has been edited for length and clarity.
The Daily Princetonian: What is the histo ry behind the creation of the Sankofa Fashion Show?
Max Diallo Jakobsen: Sankofa emerged be cause there were students that came together and wanted to create something, again, to cele brate African designers at Princeton.
Anastasia Achiaa: Sankofa is a word in the Akan tribe, which translates to “it is not taboo to fetch what is at risk of being left behind.” The word also refers to the taking back and recla mation of our past, which was the blueprint of creating the fashion show.
DP: The overarching idea of Sankofa is pre served every year. How does the committee de cide on the different themes to put out for the individual shows and are they tied to the idea of Sankofa?
AA: We think of Sankofa like we think of Coachella — it’s just the event name. Sankofa will forever be about looking back, reclaiming, moving forward, and adapting our culture to our current environment.
MDJ: The basis of what the show stands for is this idea that before taking a step forward, we have to understand where we come from — our heritage and why all of that matters.
Last year, we came up with the theme “Gold en Hour” because it is something that is being felt by, I think, the entire Black and African community at Princeton right now.
“Golden Hour” is a political statement. With Sankofa “Golden Hour,” we wanted to say that the days of Africa being seen as the dark conti nent, or being seen as somewhere in the periph ery, are over. It was our moment in the sun.
DP: How did you get into designing for San kofa?
Ayinde Bradford: A friend of mine told me about Sankofa. Sewing was a [COVID-19] pan demic hobby. I was always a painter and an art ist, and fashion was a medium of expression. At a certain point, the clothing that I wanted wasn’t available, so I decided to start making clothes. I was nervous, but thought that this could be an opportunity to try something that I would have never, ever done.
[The leaders] offered me to design, and they were definitely very clear that I could do as much as I wanted to, or as little as I wanted to. I decided that this was the opportunity to try it.
I was given the theme, which was “Golden Hour,” and then told to run with it. When I showed them ideas of what I was doing, they were surprised by the sheer amount of work that I was going to do, alongside the fact that all of the pieces that I designed, I had never done before. They had a lot of trust in what I was going to do.
DP: What do you hope audiences will reso nate with most?
AA: I think every year we challenge ourselves to outdo our last, but as much as we say “We want this year to be our best year,” it’s a clean slate. It’s [saying] “Okay, what is going on in our diaspora now? How can we bring happiness and celebration here?”
That’s what we aim for the audience to reso nate with every year — it isn’t just a show. It’s a communication of culture, of religion, of strug gle, of love, of peace, of every single emotion that our people feel and have felt, and we want to bring it all to you.
MDJ: First and foremost, this event is a love letter to the African community at Princeton. Coming to Princeton as a Black and African student is scary, and all of us leaders leading this want to thank our community for being there for us.
Sankofa is a celebration of diversity. We want all people of African descent to see something on that stage and be like, “Wow, that’s a reference to my culture,” or “That’s the fabric that I grew up seeing around my home. That reminds me of my mother.”
DP: How did the audience react to your work?
AB: I just could not imagine the amount of people coming up to me at the end saying “Your piece inspired me to try something ar tistic, or go into fashion, or reconsider their fashion.” More particularly, I think my pieces
have inspired people to become models and to see themselves on stage.
I think there is something to be said about people realizing that they are beautiful in who they are and what they look like, regardless of so ciety standards that are oftentimes Eurocentric and unattainable. Being able to see Blackness in every form, without any alterations, allows them to feel proud of who they are, proud of their heritage, and proud of the community that is around them.
DP: Is there anything else you would like to add?
MDJ: African fashion is all about celebrating African history, culture, and peoples, which has so often been underrepresented and uncelebrat ed. [But] while Sankofa is an annual event, it is not the only time that students at Princeton can engage with African arts, culture, and in particular, fashion.
My dream, one day, is that when I go to an office and wear my African clothes, it is seen as equally formal, equally special, and equally elevated.
DP: Where specifically did you look for de sign inspiration?
AB: A lot of photos and references, and then asking Black people who are a part of the dias pora, who I was designing for — a good amount of the models and people who, for them, this wasn’t fashion for a runway. This was a represen tation of their culture, of their country, and of their tribe. I really asked them, “Okay, what does this fabric mean? How is it used?”
But also, I did not want to design things that
were the same as other designers who have that heritage. They’re representing themselves — I wanted to represent myself.
DP: What is the importance of Sankofa for the Black community?
AB: The Black community has always ac knowledged its roots. But they are reshaping it so both the past and the future are represented in the present. With the African diaspora being so wide, the fact that we are always recogniz ing our history and pulling it into what we do and moving forward with such progress amidst struggles is an important part of our aesthetic and an important part of what we do and why we do it.
AA: One of my favorite quotes is “Art is the language of the marginalized.” Being Black is about innovation and creativity, and those things come from resiliency. To me, Sankofa is the definition of being Black: looking at your past, relying on your community, adapting. It’s a beauty and an art. I feel like Black people treat life as a dance. It tells a story. As cheesy as it sounds, even if the storms are coming your way, you’re going to be able to brace the whip because your ancestors have. Because you can look at your past and see how far your people have come.
Keeren Setokusumo is a Features staff writer, Izzy Jacobson is a Features, News, and Podcast staff writer, and Jean Shin is a contributing photographer for the ‘Prince’.
Please direct any correction requests to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
Making art is one of the earli est memories for Omar Farah ’23. They were raised by a mother with a talent for painting and draw ing, and their childhood home’s basement was an art studio. This early exposure to artistic prac tice quickly proved itself to be quite influential: Farah remem bers filling their sketchbook with fashion designs and forcing their younger sisters to star in their feature-length home movies from an early age. For them, practicing and engaging with art was never a question.
Since entering college, Farah has often set a goal to uplift the voices of Black students at the University, including through their work as a student journal ist. Seemingly bridging these two passions, Farah created a space for Black artists to be in commu nity with one another and share their works with the larger Uni
versity community. That space is now known as The Collective.
Farah is a Managing Editor for The Daily Princetonian.
The Collective is a group of around 40 Black Princeton Uni versity students who engage with art through a variety of forms and mediums. They are dancers and filmmakers, painters and photographers, poets and sculp tors. Many members study in the Program in Visual Arts (VIS), but they also concentrate in a variety of departments, including his tory, African American studies, neuroscience, and more. All come from varied class years, back grounds, and experiences, but they unite under a shared goal of making a space for Black art on campus.
Farah founded The Collective in the spring of 2022 after they curated “stitching,” an art exhi bition that featured mixed me
dia works from 13 Black artists on campus and was hosted in the Lewis Center for the Arts (LCA) CoLab space.
“After ‘stitching,’ my friend Collin [Riggins ’24] and I sent out an email to 15 people we knew. We were like, ‘Meet at our friend Raya [Ward ’22]’s apartment at 7 p.m. on this day,” Farah said in an interview with the ‘Prince.’ “I showed up. I honestly expected it to be all my best friends and maybe a few other people. When I went upstairs, [Raya’s] bedroom was packed. There were like 25 people in there.”
Riggins is a former opinion col umnist for the ‘Prince.’
At that meeting in Ward’s bed room, the Black artists present in troduced themselves to each oth er, discussed what they wanted to get out of the space, and launched a Discord server so they could keep in contact with each other over the summer. Ward was one of the artists featured in “stitch ing.”
Though many of the artists involved with “stitching” later joined The Collective, the group
did not gather to formally pres ent a body of work until the fall of 2022. In October, Farah curat ed “anticulation” — an exhibi tion that featured works from 11 members of The Collective and “[aimed] to capture the particu larities of black, gay, and black gay archival practices.”
Like “stitching,” “anticulation” presented works from a host of different mediums, including short film, photography, sculp ture, weaving, installation, and even dance. Azi Jones ’25, a mem ber of The Collective who was one of the artists featured in “anticu lation,” highlighted the positive impact the group has had on her practice.
“The space helped me create work that felt like it was mine,” Jones wrote in an email to the ‘Prince.’ “The things I made there felt personal — implicating. This particular perspective that cen ters and values Blackness makes my work about me, but also big ger than me.”
Suniya Nsehti ’24, a newer member of The Collective, was particularly fond of a collabora
tion between Riggins and Khari Franklin ’24 that resulted in a film featured in “anticulation.”
In the film, Franklin’s dancing is inter-spliced with archival foot age of Black militant figures.
“I love the fusion of film ed iting, and film in general, with dance,” Nsehti said, a compet itive dancer since the age of 10. “I’m close with those two specif ically, so it was very nice to see them produce such a beautiful product.”
Nsehti was first introduced to The Collective by friends who were already involved, includ ing Riggins and Franklin. After going to see “anticulation,” she was inspired by all of the work The Collective members had put into their pieces, and she became interested in joining.
Nsehti shared that she initial ly felt hesitant to join and was unsure if she would belong, as her background lies in STEM and was not pursuing a VIS certifi cate. But her fears were quickly assuaged. “Omar really ensured that I felt welcome. It’s a very inclusive, very welcoming, and warm atmosphere,” Nsehti said.
“People don’t know this, but I’m not even a VIS certificate [student],” Farah said. “What I love about The Collective is its democratizing capacity to en gage in the arts beyond the VIS program. I think that’s huge.”
Aishah Balogun ’23, a close friend of Farah’s and a found ing member of The Collective, echoed their sentiments about The Collective providing a space for students to pursue art out side the confines of the Program in Visual Arts. Balogun shared that she believes the VIS pro gram can be selective and de manding.
“Personally, I never even end ed up applying to VIS because I didn’t think I had the material ready, and I decided a little too late that I was interested in art,” Balogun said in an interview with the ‘Prince.’ “So, I think now, [The Collective] is trying to share resources and do whatever we can to support each other in our practice and build off of each other.”
Balogun said that The Collec tive is actively looking to expand
so that more Black artists on campus know that it is a space for them. Though Balogun ac knowledges that the group was born out of a group of friends who wanted to hang out with each other and make art, she said she doesn’t want it to feel in sular or uninviting. She shared a couple of events — including show-and-tells and open spaces for artists to present their work — that The Collective plans on hosting to increase engagement.
“We don’t want it to be a weird, exclusive thing,” Balogun said. “We want it to be a community of Black people who want to make art together and who are dedicat ed to that.”
Balogun also shared that she believes The Collective should remain independent from the University, a sentiment shared by Farah.
“We don’t want to become an official, undergrad group, be cause I think we want to give ourselves a space to do radical shit if we want,” Balogun said.
“I want it to maintain its in tegrity for a lot of reasons,” Farah said. “I think the biggest one is that it’s a social space at the end of the day. I don’t want it to be come too structured or too with in the realm of bureaucracy.”
When asked about their thoughts on the future of The Collective, Farah said they hope the community continues to grow and thrive even after they graduate in the spring. They are excited about the number of sophomore and first-year stu dents that have joined and trust that it will continue to do great things long after they are gone from campus.
Auhjanae McGee is a senior in the English department and a senior writer for The Prospect. McGee currently serves as co-director of the Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Belonging Board. McGee previously served as Head Prospect Editor at the ‘Prince.’
Please direct any corrections requests to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
By Ndeye Thioubou, Columnist
believe that The Daily Princetonian is an incredible organization. On any given week, we publish important opinions, powerful reflections, critical news coverage, and special projects like the Frosh Survey. Students, faculty, staff, and alumni constitute our readership. For all of the impact and great journalism the ‘Prince’ has produced, it is glaringly un-di verse.
As a Black woman on the ‘Prince,’ I can confidently say that my community is un derrepresented. I can count on one hand the amount of Black students in the Opin ion section, and from what I have seen, this holds true in most other sections, as well. According to the 2022 ‘Prince’ An nual Diversity Report, only 14 out of 239 respondents (5.9 percent) identify as Black.
The lack of adequate Black representation at Princeton’s most prominent journalistic organization means our campus commu nity is deprived of sufficient Black voices.
This dearth of diversity also puts an in creased burden on the Black students who are currently on the ‘Prince.’ As an opinion writer, I sometimes feel the weight on my shoulders to represent the Black communi ty and the issues that pertain to us. If I don’t write these articles, who will?
I worry that if I didn’t write articles calling for the expansion of the African Studies department or study abroad op portunities in Africa, these issues would have gone uncovered. A few students are expected to represent an entire communi ty, and this is simply impossible. The Black diaspora is incredibly diverse, and there
are so many Black voices we need to hear from: African-American ones, Caribbean ones, Afro-Latin, first-generation Africans, African internationals, and so on.
The ‘Prince’ is one of the best medi ums on campus to have one’s voice heard. There’s so much freedom and room for creativity, as nearly any topic can be cov ered across a multitude of sections. When there is not enough Black representation in the ‘Prince,’ the campus community is deprived of Black voices in news, opinion, arts and culture criticism, podcasting, memoir-style writing, and photo essays.
My fellow Black staffers at the ‘Prince’ agree that more work needs to be done to cover our community. When presented with the statement, “The ‘Prince’ covers issues related to race and ethnicity com
prehensively and sensitively” in the An nual Diversity Report, no Black members who completed the survey strongly agreed. A third of the Black students somewhat agreed, another third were neutral, and the final third disagreed. Contrast this with the responses white members of ‘Prince’ gave. None strongly disagreed, and nearly 80 percent agreed that the paper had suffi ciently covered these issues.
There is a disconnect between Black and white staffers of the ‘Prince.’ In order to make progress, the ‘Prince’ needs to listen to its Black staffers.
To non-Black staffers at the ‘Prince,’ I urge you to reflect critically about your time at the organization thus far and how you have engaged with diversity, equity, inclusion and belonging. It is not enough to attract more Black staffers to the ‘Prince.’ We need to also work on retention. If Black students do not feel truly welcomed and included in the ‘Prince,’ then keeping them on the staff will remain an uphill battle. The ‘Prince’ is not only a place for journal ism, but also for social gathering.
Black students need to feel embraced in the newsroom both professionally and so cially. No student on campus has been at Princeton at a time when there has been a Black Editor-in-Chief.
To Black Princetonians: if you have a passion for journalism or are contemplat ing whether you should join the ‘Prince,’ I encourage you to join our community. I personally am willing to answer any ques tions and to be a mentor, especially in the Opinion section. We have to be the change we want to see. If more of us join, then future Black Princetonians will not have doubts about contributing to the ‘Prince,’ because they will take comfort in the fact that there are people who look like them writing pieces and in leadership positions.
The ‘Prince’ has empowered and sup ported me to realize the power and impact of my voice and my opinions. We need to have more Black Princetonians join the ‘Prince’ in coming years to share my expe rience, which will benefit not only them, but the whole student body.
Ndeye Thioubou is a sophomore columnist from the Bronx, N.Y. She can be reached at nthioubou@princeton.edu.
vol. cxlvi
editor-in-chief
Marie-Rose Sheinerman ’23 business manager Benjamin Cai ’24
president Thomas E. Weber ’89 vice president David Baumgarten ’06 secretary
Chanakya A. Sethi ’07 treasurer Douglas Widmann ’90 assistant treasurer Kavita Saini ’09 trustees
Francesca Barber Craig Bloom ’88
Kathleen Crown Suzanne Dance ’96
Gabriel Debenedetti ’12
Stephen Fuzesi ’00 Zachary A. Goldfarb ’05
Michael Grabell ’03
John G. Horan ’74 Rick Klein ’98
James T. MacGregor ’66
Julianne Escobedo Shepherd
Abigail Williams ’14 Tyler Woulfe ’07
trustees ex officio Marie-Rose Sheinerman ’23 Benjamin Cai ’24
managing editors
Omar Farah ’23
Caitlin Limestahl ’23
Tanvi Nibhanupudi ’23 Zachariah W. Sippy ’23
Strategic initiative directors
Accessibility
Isabel Rodrigues ’23
Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging Melat Bekele ’24 Auhjanae McGee ’23
Education
Evelyn Doskoch ’23 José Pablo Fernández García ’23
Financial Stipend Program Rooya Rahin ’23 Engagement Analytics Sai Rachumalla ’24
Sections listed in alphabetical order.
head audience editor
Rowen Gesue ’24
head copy editors
Alexandra Hong ’23
Nathalie Verlinde ’24 associate copy editors
Catie Parker ’23
Cecilia Zubler ’23
head web design editors
Anika Maskara ’23
Brian Tieu ’23 associate web design editor
Ananya Grover ’24 head graphics editors
Ashley Chung ’23
Noreen Hosny ’25
head print design editor
Juliana Wojtenko ’23 associate print design editor
Dimitar Chakarov ’24 head data editor
Sam Kagan ’24 head features editors
Sydney Eck ’24
Alex Gjaja ’23 head news editors
Katherine Dailey ’24 Drew Somerville ’24 associate news editors
Kalena Blake ’24
Anika Buch ’24
Sandeep Mangat ’24
newsletter editors
Kareena Bhakta ’24
Amy Ciceu ’24 head opinion editor
Genrietta Churbanova ’24 community editor
Rohit A. Narayanan ’24 associate opinion editor
Lucia Wetherill ’25 head photo editor
Candace Do ’24 associate photo editors
Angel Kuo ’24 Isabel Richardson ’24 head podcast editor
Hope Perry ’24 associate podcast editors
Jack Anderson ’23 Senna Aldoubosh ’25
Eden Teshome ’25 head prospect editors
José Pablo Fernández García ’23
Kerrie Liang ’25 associate prospect editors
Molly Cutler ’23 Cathleen Weng ’24 head puzzles editors
Gabriel Robare ’24
Owen Travis ’24 associate puzzles editors
Juliet Corless ’24 Joah Macosko ’25 Cole Vandenberg ’24 head humor editors Claire Silberman ’23 Liana Slomka ’23 associate humor editor
Spencer Bauman ’25 head sports editors Wilson Conn ’25 Julia Nguyen ’24 associate sports editors Ben Burns ’23 Elizabeth Evanko ’23
146TH BUSINESS BOARD
assistant business manager Shirley Ren ’24 business directors David Akpokiere ’24 Samantha Lee ’24 Ananya Parashar ’24 Gloria Wang ’24 project managers Anika Agarwal ’25
John Cardwell ’25 Jack Curtin ’25 Diya Dalia ’24 Jonathan Lee ’24 Juliana Li ’24 Justin Ong ’23 Xabier Sardina ’24 business associate Jasmine Zhang ’24
chief technology officer
Joanna Tang ’24 lead software engineer Roma Bhattacharjee ’25
software engineers
Eugenie Choi ’24 Giao Vu Dinh ’24 Daniel Hu ’25 Dwaipayan Saha ’24 Kohei Sanno ’25 Pranav Avva ’24
THIS PRINT ISSUE WAS DESIGNED BY
Dimitar Chakarov ’24
Avi Chesler ’25 Mary Kate Cloonan ’26
Malia Gaviola ’26 Keith Matanachai ’26 Juliana Wojtenko ’23
AND COPIED BY Jason Luo ’25
On a Friday night, the Frist Film/Perfor mance Theatre was buzzing with excitement. In the darkness, the dancers struck their start ing pose. The crowd waited with bated breath. Soon enough, the bright lights came up and Michael Jackson’s “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)” rang through the speakers. It was time to get down.
Loud, fun, and unapologetically cool, the Black Arts Company’s (BAC) latest perfor mance, “The Get Down,” truly took the audi ence on an adventure through time. The show drew inspiration from the 70s and centers Black empowerment. Imagine “Jungle Boogie.” Imagine grooving with the “Soul Train Line.” Imagine beautiful bold afros that dominated the 70s scene. This is the vibrancy that the BAC brought to the present day.
Although the 70s theme was threaded throughout the show, each piece featured dif ferent forms of Black art and dance. From old school hip-hop to whacking, BAC defies genre, and the result is an amalgamation of unique styles. And this diversity is no accident — their choreographic process invites all members to contribute their perspective. While one could worry that combining so many ideas will im pact cohesion, the members not only made it work, but used it to their advantage. At BAC, difference is embraced, not feared.
“We’re just constantly learning from every body. There’s really no barrier to people try ing new styles or things they’ve never danced
before,” said Samantha Johnson ’23. “There’s always this kind of cross-cultural — but also style-wise — [learning].”
Johnson is BAC’s website manager, who pre viously served as a publicity chair.
President Emeritus Aishah Balogun ’23 agreed, adding that “everyone comes with an idea of what they want to do. Some people want to do Afrobeat, others want to do a Caribbe an-inspired piece. It’s very individual.”
And this individuality shined through in their performance. In every piece, the dancers moved in practiced synchronization, experi menting with formations and creating com plex imagery. However, if you looked closely, you could see how each dancer added their own unique flavor to the choreography — some seamlessly blended steps into one smooth line while others emphasized the beat with subtle pops and locks. Just like they do behind the scenes, on stage, everyone brings something special to the table. These small details allowed us to gain a glimpse into each performer’s in terpretation — little Easter eggs that only the careful eye got to enjoy. However, one thing remained unanimous: under the strobe lights, each dancer was bursting with personality.
BAC prides themselves on their authentic ity. In promoting their show, I noticed a bold claim on their flyers — “No one does hip hop better than us!” And that much certainly seems to be true. Their secret? Education.
Johnson emphasized the importance of ap
preciating the history behind the dance styles that they do and understanding that many people have grown up dancing hip hop or lis tening to the music they use. This context al lows dancers to understand the gravity behind their work — each movement is loaded with a rich history.
“This is not hip hop from another source. It’s not hip hop from, you know, white facing com panies or groups. This is hip hop from where it originated,” Johnson told me.
This opportunity to indulge in the Black arts is not just reserved for Black students — it’s open to everyone. Since its conception in 1990, BAC has been open to all students, but its membership has historically been composed primarily of African Americans and other stu dents of color. Today, BAC boasts dancers from various backgrounds, all united by their appre ciation for the Black arts.
To Balogun, this diversity is important for many reasons — not only does it create more manpower to sustain the presence of Black cul ture at Princeton, but also sparks meaningful conversations between students. However, this openness is a two-way street. BAC extends a warm welcome to anyone who wants to expe rience the history of the Black arts. However, those who wish to participate must also treat it with utmost respect.
“Whenever we have auditionees, we always ask them what Black arts means to them, and you’d be surprised by some of the answers we get,” said Balogun.
“Why is cultural sharing so im portant at BAC?” I asked.
“I think it can bring about really interesting perspectives to people’s experiences growing up. Maybe they grew up in an area that was predom inantly Black. Maybe they were very much surrounded by Black music and Black dance, and that’s some thing they want to appreciate.”
“Do you ever feel the need to pro tect your culture and keep it your own?” I followed up.
“I think it’s important to empha size difference, and not look at it as a bad thing. We all come from dif ferent places and have different cul tures. If we appreciate them instead
of trying to erase each other, it’s a lot better than just saying ‘We’re doing hip hop and let’s not talk about Blackness at all.’ That does noth ing for us,” Balogun responded.
During the show, this diversity and cultural appreciation was not only present among the dancers, it was reflected in the audience. Half way through the second act, one of the dancers invited audience members to join them in “get ting down” on stage. Immediately, a flurry of hands shot up. As the four chosen members moved to the music, the crowd cheered and clapped along. The evidence was undeniable — BAC wasn’t just building a group of great dancers, it was building a community.
For many Black students, BAC is a safe space on campus. And for Balogun and Johnson, BAC was their first home at Princeton.
“BAC was my first taste to Black life and dance, and getting those two at the same time,” said Johnson. “We moved like a family — there was really no person left behind from studying together, eating together, partying together, chilling together. It’s been the lens in which I see my Princeton life, academically and so cially.”
“Coming to Princeton, I was really unsure about what I was going to be experiencing as a Black woman on this campus. Having a space that was so predominantly Black and had Black people in positions of authority, who were look ing out for me, who were mentors to me, who I saw thriving at Princeton was really inspiring,” said Balogun.
As the dancers rushed on stage for their final bow, it was clear that “The Get Down” was much more than just a dance showcase — it was a celebration of Black culture past and present. That Friday night, Frist Theatre came to life, and I was delighted to be swept away on a journey that carried so much gravity yet so much joy.
“Black culture has become a universal thing,” said Johnson. “But, to be where it is strongest and where it is most proud — I think it’s something very special.”
Kerrie Liang is a head editor for The Prospect and an Assistant Podcast Editor at the ‘Prince.’ She can be reached at kerrie.liang@princeton.edu, or on Instagram at @kerrie.liang.
By Kalena Blake Associate News Editor
Rev. Dr. Jonathan Lee Walton will begin his term as the first Black and the first Baptist President of the Princeton Theological Sem inary (PTS) on Jan. 1. Walton is also an alum of the Seminary, earning a Ph.D. in 2006 and M.Div. in 2002.
The Seminary’s October announcement of his appointment comes nearly two years after the release of a historical audit report, which examined “the institution’s historic connec tions to slavery.” In the wake of the news, The Daily Princetonian spoke with University and Seminary community members about the significance of Walton’s appointment.
Walton did not respond to a request for comment.
Eddie S. Glaude Jr., Professor of African American Studies, said that Walton brings an important perspective to the Seminary.
“He understands, in a way that’s really transformative, the role and place of theologi cal education in our current moment,” he said. “Of course, it’s bound up with how we train ministers and the like, but it’s also how we understand the moral and ethical underpin nings of our way of life.”
Walton previously served as the Dean of Wake Forest University’s School of Divinity. Prior to that role, he served as faculty at the Harvard Divinity School. He is the author of two books, and his scholarship primarily cen ters on the intersection of evangelical Christi anity, mass media, and political culture.
Dashawn Robinson, a PTS student in his final year, said that Walton’s appointment re flects well on the institution.
“It truly showed that the school and insti tution has cared about some of the slavery audits, that it’s opening its mind to embrac ing the power and voice of people of color,” said Robinson, who served as the historian for the Association of Black Seminarians (ABS) last year.
President Craig Barnes, who has served as president of PTS since January 2013, delivered his final sermon on Monday, Dec. 5. After the sermon, students reflected on Barnes’ 10 years at the helm of the seminary, the semi nary’s complex history, and Barnes’ efforts to increase diversity in the institution, as well as the institution’s complex history.
Rochelle Haggins, a student at the sem inary, told the ‘Prince’ that she learned at Barnes’ retirement reception that the per centage of faculty of color increased nearly
threefold from 10 percent to 33 percent under Barnes’ tenure.
Haggins also noted Barnes has made 19 faculty appointments and most of them were women and people of color.
The administrative actions that resulted in these changes followed the efforts of stu dents, including those involved in ABS, who pushed for the University to grapple with its history of oppression head-on.
The audit report commissioned in 2016 and released in 2019 indicates that if one considers donors who profited from the slave trade, “as much as 30 to 40 percent of the seminary’s rev enue before the Civil War could be connected to slavery.” In 2019, after the conclusion of a two-year audit that interrogated the semi nary’s relationship to slavery, PTS set aside $28 million to reparations.
Robinson noted how the audit wrestled with “what role they’ve played in perpetuat ing the pedagogy of slavery and oppression” and said that PTS has tried “to make some changes throughout the campus to serve as repentance or symbols of repentance.”
On Jan. 25, PTS announced that it would disassociate its chapel from Samuel Miller, a slave owner and anti-abolitionist, after an ABS demonstration.
ABS has also centered its advocacy on less outwardly-visible diversity and inclusion ef forts.
“We were more focused on some of the structural changes, whether that be repre
the elasticity of theology and scripture and how it’s inclusive of all people,” Robinson said.
“We were more concerned about the heart of the person, not necessarily the color, but the color is just a plus,” he added.
Students noted the excitement on campus that stems from having someone of Walton’s background, as a non-white, non-Presbyteri an, alum, represented in the administration.
Walton earned his Ph.D. in 2006 and his M.Div. in 2002 from PTS and his bachelor’s degree in political science from Morehouse College in 1996.
“From what I’ve heard people are excited. He’s an alum of here, so they’re excited to see
Glaude commented on how Walton’s varied experience and unique perspective will bring nuance to his new role.
“He sees the role of theological education, its social function, its ethical function as much broader, as moving outside and be yond churches,” said Glaude. “What does it mean for us to be in a moment politically, and culturally, where we seem to be unmoored, where selfishness and greed overrun basic democratic values? What role might Prince ton Theological Seminary play in helping us imagine our obligations to each other differ ently?”
While Walton’s appointment is historic, administrators and students say there is still work to be done.
“I’m definitely hoping there’s more invest ed in the research centers because I think that some of the most dynamic conversations are happening there about race and politics and a lot of very current things that are important to us as it intersects with theological con cerns,” said Kaitlyn Dugan, the Director of the Center for Barth Studies at the Seminary.
sentation in the materials that we’re reading, whether that be representation in some of the tenured professors,” said Robinson.
In addition to advocating for these struc tural changes, according to Robinson, mem bers of ABS served on the committee to nom inate the next President.
“They did make a push, for, if not a person of color, just someone who fully understood
that come full circle,” said Madison DeLuca, a PTS student.
Sydney Williams, another student member of ABS, also noted that Walton’s background as someone who attended a historically Black college, Morehouse College, bears signifi cance to her. In addition, as someone who is non-Presbyterian herself, she’s excited to see the first Baptist President at the seminary.
Dugan also noted that given that many faculty members have retired, there’s an op portunity to fill chairs in the administration while keeping “concerns about representation in mind.”
“We still have a long way to go,” she added.
Kalena Blake is an Associate News Editor at the ‘Prince.’ Please direct all corrections to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
“[Walton] understands in a way that’s really transformative the role and place of theological education in our current moment”
— Professor Eddie S. Glaude Jr.“ALEXANDER HALL (PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY)” BY DJKEDDIE / CC SA 4.0
The spring 2023 course catalog features 23 new courses in or cross-listed with the African American Studies Department (AAS), spanning a range of disciplines in cluding theater, poetry, and journalism. This is the most new courses of any depart ment, barring Freshman Seminars, accord ing to the catalog.
In conversations with The Daily Prince tonian, faculty offered their perspectives on the importance of interdisciplinary scholarship and discourse in the AAS De partment. 21 of the 23 new AAS classes are cross-listed with other departments, with the most common being GSS (eight classes) and Latin American Studies (five classes).
One of these classes cross-listed in the GSS department is AAS 204: Black Per formance Theory. Assistant Professor of Theater Rhaisa Williams described it as, “tak[ing] this assumption that Black people are not a monolith and that there’s no one way to be Black … this is a course that will help students be able to contextualize that using performance methods and theories.”
Williams also emphasized the impor tance of not just focusing on written texts in the content of the class. “We also think about theater, we think about dance, we think about other modes of embodiment, because that’s the way knowledge is pro duced and transmitted,” she said.
Williams also emphasized the impor tance of considering Blackness alongside other categories, saying “you can’t think about Blackness without thinking about class, without thinking about gender, without thinking about sexuality.”
AAS 498: Missing Black Women also seeks to incorporate poetry and theater into African American studies; the class will culminate in a “multimedia theatrical pro duction” on the disparity in the treatment of missing Black women and girls by law enforcement and media, according to the course offerings website.
In an email to the ‘Prince,’ Patricia Smith, a prolific poet and visiting professor of cre ative writing, described poetry as “the way to get us listening again.” Smith is co-teach ing the class with poet Mahogany Browne and choreographer Davalois Fearon.
“I want to bring that same unwavering attention [of poetry] to a problem no one re ally talks about — the problem of missing Black women,” Smith wrote. “I hope [the students] are slapped awake, and that they then begin to do the slapping. I want them to contradict me, to say ‘That couldn’t pos sibly be true,’ to be astounded at what their country is capable of.”
Another class which speaks to the im
remaking it,” according to the course offer ings website.
In an interview with the ‘Prince,’ Benja min described the class’s goal of “learning methods of research,” but also a theme of “how do we use our knowledge and our ideas for social change to create more jus tice and equity in the world?”
Benjamin pointed to the history of the Black studies movement, which “grew out
Channing Joseph’s course JRN 448/AAS 448: The Media and Social Issues: Writing about Racial Justice in the United States ex amines the successes and failures of Amer ican journalism in reporting on communi ties of color.
“Typically, there is not as much histo ry as I think there should be. I think that what ends up happening is that students graduate not really understanding how the profession has come to be what it is,” Joseph said, referencing how many early Ameri can newspapers grew by running ads for runaway slaves or advertising auctions for enslaved people.
“I think most journalists miss that his tory and consequently miss why they’re in the situation they’re in today, in terms of having communities that feel alienated by reporting that professional journalists do, having trouble reaching out to new types of audiences,” he said.
portance of interdisciplinary scholarship is AAS 415: Healing in the Black Atlantic, a class that will use a historical approach to discuss and contextualize modern-day is sues. The course — cross-listed in GSS, the Department of History, and the Program in Latin American Studies — will be taught by Elise Mitchell, a postdoctoral fellow in the Department of History.
In addition to smallpox inoculations in West Africa and the HIV/AIDS crisis, Mitchell said the class will be “situating [COVID-19] within a broader historical con text.”
“We examine the ways that Black people in particular, but also in community with Native people, in community with Latino people, how have they responded to those health crises over time,” Mitchell told the ‘Prince.’
She continued, “We’ve been interdisci plinary from the start. Black intellectuals and Black scholars have always worn many hats.”
AAS 200: Methods of Worldbuilding, is taught by Ruha Benjamin, a professor in the Department of African American Studies. The class will “examine the re lationship between thought and practice, ways of knowing the world, and ways of
of student protest for a more expansive curriculum in the ’60s,” she said. “So, it’s a field that grows out of people doing creative work in the world and connecting that to knowledge production.”
AAS 336: Racial Histories of Gender and Sexuality, taught by Marcus Lee, a lectur er in the Council of the Humanities and the AAS department, looks at “histories of and historiographical debates over sex and gender within Black communities,” as de scribed by the course offerings. Lee is also a postdoctoral fellow in LGBTQ+ studies; the course is cross-listed in the Department of Gender and Sexuality Studies (GSS).
“It’s my view that the study of gender and sexuality, the study of race, are sort of es sential to any sort of liberal arts education,” Lee said in an interview with the ‘Prince.’
“Part of the impetus for the course is to really get at the histories behind some of the public discourse we see today,” Lee said. “Why the preoccupation with trans com munities, generally, or trans people within Black communities? Why the preoccupa tion with Black queer people as a part of the movement for Black lives?”
Many of the new classes also seek to ad dress gaps regarding the work and presence of Black people in certain fields. Professor
Similarly, Professor Rochelle Ellis’s MPP 214/AAS 214: Projects in Vocal Performance: Exploring Art Songs seeks to highlight the work of Black composers in classical music.
“We get a lot of Beethoven and Mozart and Handel, but it’s good to have Florence Price and Margaret Bonds,” she said, refer ring to two Black female composers in the early 20th century.
Several professors also encouraged stu dents not to be afraid of taking classes in the AAS department.
“There’s a way that taking classes in iden tity fields like African American studies or Asian American studies or Latino studies can feel like a place that is forbidden if you are not a member of that particular iden tity category,” said Justin Mann, a visiting research scholar in the AAS department.
Mann will be teaching AAS 326/ENG 286: Topics in African American Culture & Life: Black Speculative Fiction and The Black Radical Imagination in the spring. “I think that we risk losing a lot of conversation and learning potential if people are afraid.”
Miriam Waldvogel is a news contributor for the ‘Prince.’ Please send any correction requests to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
“We’ve been interdisciplinary from the start. Black intellectuals and Black scholars have always worn many hats.”
— Postdoctoral Fellow in History Elise Mitchell
“Where are you from?”
This is a simple and unloaded question for most, but it reg isters differently for myself, as well as for others who are the de scendants of enslaved Africans in the United States. Usually, when a Black person at Princeton asks you where you are from, they expect you to define your ethnicity. They want to know if you are Nigerian, Ghanian, Jamaican, etc. Unfortunately, Gener ational African American students don’t have a nation to claim aside from the United States. As far as we, GAAs, know, American is the only answer we know to give.
When I was first asked where I was from, I was taken aback. My response of “Englewood, New Jersey” did not suffice.
In the town I grew up in, almost all Black people were Generational African Americans — a term coined by Reverend Isaiah Webb, the grand father of one of the founders of The Generational African American Stu dents Association of Harvard Univer sity, Samantha O’Sullivan. According to O’Sullivan, Generational African American “implies descendants of enslaved people without having to have that in the name,” which is in credibly powerful.
Myself and my fellow Generation
is the Trans Atlantic Slave Trade. Be cause of this, we were all “just Black.” There was never a need to define our selves further. We didn’t know how to define ourselves beyond our black ness.
Upon arriving at Princeton and immersing myself within the Black community, I quickly noticed how different it was from my community back home. In contrast with Engle wood, the Black people at Princeton could define themselves beyond be ing “just Black.” They had direct ties to countries within the continent of Africa and to countries in the Ca ribbean. To supplement this dichot omy, the number of Generational African Americans at Princeton was much lower than the number back home — a trend identified in selec tive universities across the country. According to a 2007 study in the American Journal of Education pub lished by three Princeton University professors, both present and former, 41 percent of Black first-year students attending Ivy League schools were immigrants or the children of immi grants. A leader of Princeton’s Black Alumni Association once told me that they estimate that there are around 12 Generational African Americans per class at Princeton.
Although the University does not
isolation many Generational African Americans experience at Princeton.
We cannot fully be included in events that ask us to wear cultural
al African Americans in Englewood all shared the common experience of having our heritage and direct con nection to the continent of Africa be stolen from us, via the atrocity that
have any official statistics regarding the ethnic breakdown of its Black classes, the limited studies available combined with anecdotal accounts offer an explanation for the feelings of
attire. We don’t have a widely recog nized flag or ethnic identity to lay claim to. We don’t even have a consen sus on what we should call ourselves. All of these factors greatly contribute to a sense of isolation many feel from the broader Black Princeton commu nity.
All of the reasons indicated above showcase why I wanted to create the Generational African American Stu dents Association (GAASA) at Prince ton. The mission of GAASA is to cul tivate a sense of community among African-American students on Princ eton’s campus, as well as to celebrate the beauty of African-American cul ture and identity.
When the organization was first created, many people asked the ques tion: Why do we need GAASA if we have a Black Student Union (BSU)? Claudacia Clemmons ’25, secretary of GAASA, summarized our sentiments perfectly: “I think the question itself is rooted in the stereotype Black peo ple are a monolith, and we are far from it. We have so many rich and diverse cultures that are all worth celebrating and uplifting. By virtue of attending
so hard for me to be in this position, and I want to ensure that the African American experience and culture is heard, respected, and celebrated on campus and beyond.”
With GAASA, we hope not to pro mote disunity among the Black com munity at the University. Instead, we hope to uplift Generational African American students through a celebra tion of our rich history and culture. We will strive to do this in a way that encourages solidarity among all in dividuals of African descent on cam pus, which will allow us to conceptu alize our shared struggles and joys.
While the institution of slavery has had drastic implications on the liveli hoods of its descendants, the afterlife of slavery has also left behind a beau tiful group of people who deserve the world and everything it has to offer. Generational African Americans de serve to take up space on Princeton’s campus, and GAASA is that space.
Christopher Butcher is a sophomore from Englewood, N.J. He can be reached at cb2301@princeton.edu.
Princeton I have a unique opportuni ty that none of my enslaved ancestors were able to have. I am the voice for my ancestors and elders who fought
“I am the voice for my ancestors and elders who fought so hard for me to be in this position, and I want to ensure that the African American experience amd culture is heard, respected, and celebrated on campus and beyond.”
“While the institution of slavery has had drastic implications on the livelihoods of its descendants, the afterlife of slavery has also left behind a beautiful group of people who deserve the world and everything it has to offer. Generational African Americans deserve to take up space on Princeton’s campus, and GAASA is that space.”
“We’re not hip-hop, we’re not anything,” Stage Manager Etiosa Omeike ’24 told the au dience before the show start ed. “We’re African.”
Omeike is a former writer for TheOnProspect. Dec. 2 and 3, Dorobucci, Princeton University’s African dance group, presented “Pic ture Perfect” in the Frist The atre. The show offered a fusion of the modern and traditional, threaded along by the narra tive of a family reunion … and all the inevitable drama.
Throughout the two hours of performance, videos were interspersed between dances — an all too common theme among University dance groups. Within the added video element, the audience watched a family reunion get crafted together by the matri arch of the family, the grand mother, named simply Grand ma in the show. Grandma’s
character was complete with a mumu, hair wrap, and heavy accent.
The video clips in between dances featured a wide range of drama: from two-faced fam ily members, to an uninvited lurker, to plans to buy a family complex back in the homeland, and to threats to be sent to Af rica for bad behavior. All this and more added to the excite ment, as themes mentioned in the clips were then portrayed in the dances.
According to Grandma, it made sense to “put that drama to use and be on TV.” The twist is that none of the other fam ily members realize they are being filmed until the end of the show, exposing that they are not as “Picture Perfect” as they may seem. In the end, the audience got to see an authen tic family dynamic that is all too relatable to anyone with African roots. While the paus
es between the video clips and dances were long, leaving the audience in dark and in silent anticipation, the waits were worth it.
While the video offered a compellingly hilarious plot, the dancing shined through. Complete with jump kicks, intricate footwork, ensem ble choreography, splits, and flips, each dance routine was filled with explosive energy.
videos: at the family reunion, one of the family members shared their disgust with an Ed Sheeran remix during a made-for-TV confessional. In a moment of self-referential iro ny, the dancers began to walk off stage at the sound of Sheer an’s vocals.
With the performance show casing a blend of styles, the variety in expression was en hanced by dynamic lighting
When the lights went down, the audience’s cheers begged for more.
Staying true to the prom ise of African dance, the mu sic and choreography blended modern and traditional influ ences. One routine featured Eskista, a traditional, millen ia-old style of Habesha dance, performed by the Princeton Ethiopian and Eritrean Stu dents Association. Then, in an almost complete reversal, the next dance featured a remix of Afro pop featuring Ed Sheer an, coincidentally a callback to a prior plot point in the
and costuming. Each dance had a unique costume: rang ing from jorts and a white tank top to custom kente crop tops to traditional Habesha kemis and netela, dress and scarf in Amharic, respectively.
The lighting also highlight ed the dynamic nature of the show, with flashing lights that filled the stage with color. The use of white light focused the audience’s attention on spe cific movements, showcasing certain members of the “pic ture perfect family.”
While the show was focused on the family as a whole, the
interplay between the video clips and lighting empha sized movements around certain family members. The lights illuminated the connections between the
resentation of the complex ity of African culture and experience within the Afri can Diaspora. The African community on Princeton’s campus is not a monolith, and Dorobucci presents that truth. At the same time, it shows us that its beauty is forAteveryone. the end of the show, the full company of Dorobucci joined each other on stage — lip syncing to the music and dancing amongst each other. By the end, the audi ence was practically on stage with them.
Like members of the pic ture perfect family said in one of the videos: “You just had to be there.”
dancers, moving with them as they passed through the spotlight. The additional lighting elements created a rhythm, pulsating with the moves of dancers, that tied all of the production ele mentsDorobucci’stogether.Fall 2022 show is not something you see ev eryday on Princeton’s cam pus. Drawing inspiration from across the Continent, the performance was a rep
Regina Roberts is a contrib uting writer for The Prospect and the Podcast section at the ‘Prince.’
Eden Teshome is an Associate Podcast Editor and news contributor at the ‘Prince’ from Ell- icott City, Md.
Lina Kim, a Podcast contributor at the ‘Prince,’ also contributed reporting to this piece. Please direct any corrections corrections[at]dailyprincetotonian.com.
“The show offered a fusion of the modern and traditional, threaded along by the narrative of a family reunion … and all the inevitable drama.”EDEN TESHOME / THE DAILY PRINCETONIAN
By Brian Mhando, Sports Contributor
For defensive backs, the goal is to take the ball away. But for sophomore cornerback Nasir Cook, giving back is even more important.
This past summer, Cook founded the Nashville Youth Initiative (NYI), a non-profit organization that aims to bridge the divide between law en forcement and local youth through physical and academic activities. NYI was something Cook had sought to create since he was a high school student at Montgomery Bell Academy (MBA), an all-boys private school in his hometown of Nashville, Tenn. At MBA, he won multiple regional champion ships in both track and football, while also ex celling in the classroom and winning academic awards. Despite the reputation he had built for himself, Cook said he understood that his achieve ments did not make him immune to the racism many Black people face in his hometown and across the United States.
“My dad used to work for The Tennessean. He would work late nights throwing papers to houses in rich communities, and he would always get pulled over. He would tell me stories about it,” Cook told The Daily Princetonian.
“I remember him telling me, one time he was working and a police officer pulled him over and was giving [my dad] a hard time,” Cook added. “But then [the officer] saw his MBA baseball hat. My dad said his facial expression changed; the whole interaction changed.”
Witnessing his father’s struggle with discrim ination at the hands of law enforcement and with the nation continuing to grapple with issues of po lice violence, Cook said he felt empowered to make a change. Inspired by the Police Athletic League (PAL) programs in New York City, Cook applied for the John C. Bogle Fellowship for civic service during his first year at Princeton. The fellowship, which aims to fund the passion projects of stu dents at Princeton, was Cook’s gateway to change.
“I came across the John C. Bogle fellowship for
civic service, and I saw where you could pretty much partner with a community partner wherev er in the United States,” he explained. “I thought it would be a great way to implement something me and my dad were talking about, which is what eventually became the National Youth Initiative.”
Armed with a stipend of $600 a week, Cook pitched his idea to Tony Wilkes, the chief of cor rections at the Davidson County Sheriff’s Office in Nashville and John Drake, the chief of police for the broader Metro Nashville Police Department. With both officers on board, Cook advertised the program through social media and flyers around his community. Wilkes and Drake publicized NYI to law enforcement, and Cook contacted his former athletic director at MBA, who offered the school’s facilities for the program.
With most everything set in place, Cook was finally ready to start the project he and his father had dreamed of for years.
The program took place every Tuesday and Fri day throughout July and August. A typical NYI day saw law enforcement officers and students engaging with each other through sports, then in the classroom through public speaking work shops. On Tuesdays, Cook gave the participants three separate prompts and asked them to write a speech on those topics in preparation for Friday, where they would present their work.
After each workshop, Cook concluded the day with team-building exercises. Officers actively participated in every activity, building relation ships with the students. Cook said he witnessed the positive impact NYI had on both officers and students.
Physical activity is also an integral part of NYI. The groups played a number of sports together, including basketball, baseball, football, and kick ball. Despite the clear athletics focus of his pro gram, the Princeton defensive back did not feel the same love for sports when he was the age of many
of the children in the program. With his natural talent and parents’ encouragement, however, he developed an interest in athletics.
“Actually, the crazy thing is, I didn’t want to play football at first. When I was five years old, I remember my dad telling me to go play, you know, try out and everything. And I just didn’t like it,” Cook recalled.
“Fast forward to when I was six or seven years old. My dad was coaching the team [I was on], and my mom was out there watching me practice, too,” he said. “I was out there just running around, and my mom was like, ‘yeah, you’re playing football.’ I remember crying and everything.”
It took Cook a while to find his ideal position, with stints at running back and wide receiver in high school. During his sophomore year, he made the switch to defensive back. A year later, Cook had taken control of a starting defensive back spot, racking up 39 tackles, two interceptions, two fumble recoveries, and seven deflected passes en route to a state championship run. His impressive junior year performance had earned him recruit ment offers from Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Dart mouth, Tulane, and Navy.
When the time finally came for him to choose a home for the next four years, Cook saw no better fit than Princeton.
“I love the campus. I love the stadium. And most important[ly], the coaches were great. [I] talk ed to some of the guys that were already here. The recruiting class that we were building was good, too,” Cook said.
“It just seemed like an all-around great fit. I mean, when I walked on campus and everything, I just felt myself, I could just see myself being here,” he added. “I didn’t really feel that way about many other places. So I just thought it was the right fit for me.”
With football, classes, and NYI, managing time for Cook has been difficult. Fortunately for him,
his structured routine since high school and his experiences at MBA have helped him not only transition to Princeton, but thrive even while jug gling many commitments.
“I remember making that jump from seventh grade … and then going into eighth grade to MBA, it was a little bit of an adjustment for me,” he said. “Grades took a hit a little bit, trying to figure out the system and everything. But after that …every thing in that ninth-grade year was good for me.”
Cook said he hopes to eventually expand the program into other states and is planning to create a winter curriculum for students. Beyond that, he is also determined to diminish police discrimination in his community by creating a diversity, equity, and inclusion program for the police department. The goal for Cook with NYI, however, was to not only improve police relations with younger Tennesseans, but to inspire the kids in his community.
“That’s one of the coolest aspects of this whole thing — trying to give back to the community and just seeing how to provide a great example for them, showing them that it is possible to make it to the Ivy League,” he said.
At Princeton, Cook plans on concentrating in anthropology on the law, politics, and economics track, while also earning a certificate in entrepre neurship and African American studies. Though he is unsure what his future beyond Princeton may hold, he hopes to continue to uplift his family and community.
“I just want [my family] to be proud of me. I’m representing my family, and [I] pretty much rep resent our last name,” he said. “[I’m] just trying to make a good lasting impression on people.”
Brian Mhando is a contributor to the Sports and Podcast sections at the ‘Prince.’ Please direct any corrections requests to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
By Bailey Glenetske and Justus Wilhoit, Assistant News Editor and News Contributor
The Princeton Black Stu dent Union (BSU) hosted the University of Pennsylvania’s Black Students League (BSL) when the two schools’ foot ball teams faced off at Pow ers Field on Nov. 19. The two organizations led joint com munity-building program ming on Princeton’s campus before and after the game.
The collaboration was launched after Black stu dents at both Princeton and UPenn saw an opportunity to strengthen ties across the two campuses. In interviews with The Daily Princetonian, event organizers reflected on what made the day a success.
“An event like this allowed for the blossoming and cre ating potential lifelong cross-campus connections between the individuals and also both Black communi ties as a whole,” said Kim berly Cross ’25, who serves as the outreach co-chair of the Princeton BSU.
Cross explained that it is important to foster com munity beyond individual colleges. She said that she encourages Black students and other students of color to explore forming ties with communities at neighboring universities.
“Community is not limit ed to just your university. Community can and does ex ist outside the gates of Princ eton University or your re spective university. Tap into those outside communities,” Cross told the ‘Prince.’
Christopher Butcher ’25, who also serves as outreach co-chair of the Princeton BSU, wrote in a message to the ‘Prince’ that the event marked a significant step ping stone in terms of the
types of events hosted on Princeton’s campus and in terms of centering Black stu dents.
“Princeton is known as the ‘southernmost’ Ivy, with a reputation of being an in hospitable space for Black students, so I hope Black students internalize that we can create these safe/fun spaces for each other if our university does not,” Butcher wrote.
Tyler McCormick, the cur rent president of the UPenn BSL chapter, echoed a simi lar sentiment in an interview with the ‘Prince,’ stressing what he felt was significant about the two groups com ing together.
“This trip and trips like this are essential because they allow Black students to expand the Black community beyond our specific schools and build a larger commu nity of Black students across the Ivy League,” he noted.
The University of Pennsyl vania’s BSL chapter initial ly proposed the idea for the event to the Princeton BSU — a simple moment of out reach that set plans for the crossover event in motion.
McCormick explained that the idea for a collaboration came to life after a similar event his group held with Harvard’s Black Students As sociation (BSA) in the fall of 2021.
“I was introduced to Princ eton BSU member Kimber ly Cross by a mutual friend while she was visiting Penn’s campus last spring. Kim let me know we could do a col laborative weekend with Princeton Black Student Union, and the idea took off from there. We worked hard
over the summer into the fall semester and made the event happen,” he said.
But despite the excite ment, McCormick shared that there were some chal lenges in the planning pro cess.
“We had to present to funding boards for many weeks to get the necessary funding for this event, and setting up logistics for things like shuttles between campus and the hotel was difficult,” he said.
Despite the difficulties, it seems that the event proved successful: the UPenn BSL community is already planning additional stops
in their Ivy League tour. Among the dozens of partic ipants on the overnight trip to Princeton from UPenn were students from a range of graduating classes.
Aria Osborne, a first-year at UPenn, described it as a “wonderful weekend.”
“Just seeing Black stu dents freely and jubilantly have fun created a warm, in viting atmosphere,” Osborne emphasized.
Asked what he hopes that participants took away from the collaborative event, McCormick shared that he hopes “students left with a sense of community.”
“I know at times it can be
uncomfortable being a Black student at a PWI,” he said. “I hope students left with a sense of community.”
Princeton’s BSU and UP enn’s BSL jointly hosted a tailgate prior to the football game, as well as a game night and afterparty following the game.
Bailey Glenetske is an Assis tant News Editor who often cov ers breaking news, eating clubs, and University affairs. Justus Wilhoit is a news contributor for the ‘Prince.’
Please direct all corrections to corrections[at]dailyprinceto nian.com.
The Arts Council of Princeton, with funding from the Princeton University Art Museum, hosted a panel discus sion titled “Retrieving the Overlooked History of Black Artists in Princeton and Trenton in the Later 20th Century” on Wednesday, Nov. 30.
Panelists spoke about their roles in the local arts scene and the importance of showcasing both Black art and art from other historically underrepre sented communities.
The event was led by moderators Rhinold L. Ponder, the founder of the nonprofit Art Against Racism, and Judith K. Brodsky, the founder of the Brodsky Center at Rutgers. Panelists included Shirley Satterfield, founder of the Witherspoon-Jackson Historical and Cultural Society; Lawrence Hil ton, a collector of African American art and longtime member of the art and music community in Trenton; Steph anie Schwartz, Curator of Collections and Research at the Historical Society
of Princeton (HSP); Margaret O’Reilly, Director of the New Jersey State Mu seum; and Aubrey Kauffman, a Tren ton-based artist and photographer.
Schwartz began the conversation by relating a brief history of the Historical Society of Princeton. She explained to audience members that it wasn’t until the 1990s that major efforts occurred to diversify collections and exhibitions.
“These communities were underrep resented in our collection, and there fore, we were not giving a full pic ture of Princeton,” Schwartz said. “We wanted to be able to tell a broader and more inclusive history.”
The first exhibition at HSP that highlighted Black artists ran in 1996. When the Society faced problems in developing a comprehensive display, they turned to local organizations and churches for help.
“The materials to tell these stories did not exist at the time,” Schwartz said. “This was the origin of our oral
history collection efforts at HSP. We used oral history to try and fill the gaps in the existing documentation.”
The New Jersey State Museum began efforts to expand its collection outside the “canon of Western art” during the Civil Rights Era in the 1960s, O’Reilly said.
“We have championed work by un derrepresented artists,” O’Reilly said. “We highlight the artists that are good. We don’t highlight them because of their race, their gender, their ethnic ity.”
O’Reilly also spoke to the fact that the New Jersey State Museum serves as both a center for teaching and research.
Hilton shifted the discussion to ward a more personal remembrance of the history of prominent Black artists in Princeton and the surrounding area. He spoke about many of the artists he knew personally, such as Rex Gore leigh, Jim Edwards, and Henry Austin.
An artist and one member of the
audience spoke personally about his own experience as what he called an “overlooked artist.”
“For the life of me, I don’t understand why no one’s interested in my story,” he said. “We are supposedly talking about overlooked artists. I am standing be fore you right now asking you to come look at my art.”
The panel took place on Wednesday, Nov. 30, at Art on Hullfish.
The event accompanied an exhibi tion on display at the Paul Robeson Arts Center from Oct. 14 to Dec. 3: “Retrieving the Life and Art of James Wilson Edwards and a Circle of Black Artists.”
Rebecca Cunningham is a news contributor for the ‘Prince.’ Please direct corrections requests to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
On Nov. 1, Princeton announced the first 10 research projects that will re ceive funding and support from the new Princeton Alliance for Collabora tive Research and Innovation (PACRI).
PACRI is intended to increase con nections between Princeton and the five HBCUs in the program. The five HBCUs include: Howard University, Jackson State, Prairie View A&M Uni versity, Spelman College, and the Uni versity of Maryland Eastern Shore.
Ordinarily, cross-university collab oration can be challenging for pro fessors, and PACRI addresses some of the obstacles. Professor Brian Herre ra of the Lewis Center for the Arts (LCA) explained that research in the humanities, such as projects starting in the LCA, are extremely resource intensive, emphasizing that “We need that external investment, especially in the arts and humanities.”
PACRI will support each of the aforementioned partnerships for up to to a total cost of $250,000 for two years per project.
Dr. Nihar Pradhan, a professor of chemistry, physics, and atmospher ic sciences at Jackson State, is work ing alongside Dr. Emily Davidson, a chemical and biological engineering professor at Princeton, on a project called “Dielectric Performance of Polymer Nanocomposite Heterostruc tures for High Energy Storage Capac itors.”
Pradhan and Davidson’s project aims to improve battery storage ca pacity and efficiency, which is criti cal for many green energy initiatives. Pradhan explained that self-driving cars, for example, need more efficient and higher-storage batteries in order to drive longer distances. “One of the main goals is green energy technolo
gy.” He used examples such as electric cars and electric bikes, and the need for them to have long-lasting, reliable batteries.
Herrera will work with Al-Yasha Il haam Williams, a professor of philos ophy and religious studies at Spelman College. Their project, “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Mas ter’s House: A Spelman.edu Multime dia Performance,” will take the form of an installation at Spelman’s new fine arts center in Atlanta.
Professor Meirong Liu of the How ard University School of Social Work, along with other Howard professors Gloria E. Cain, Jae Eun Chung, and Jiang Li, will work with Princeton Professor of Economics and Public Affairs Janet Currie to collect data rel evant to policies around asthma in public housing.
Liu said her team wants to inves
tigate “the reasons for lack of knowl edge and actions from both caregiv ers, landlords” and find best practices to “address the asthma health dispar ity.”.
Liu expressed her opinion on how this project connects junior fac ulty with senior faculty alongside Princeton with HBCUs. She said, “If there was no grant opportunity, we wouldn’t have this connection.”
Though Liu, Pradhan, and Herrera’s projects are still in their initial stages, students at Princeton and the collabo rating HBCUs may have the opportu nity to participate in these projects in the near future.
Chas Brown is a news contributor. Please direct all corrections to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
The art exhibition “Samuel Fos so: Affirmative Acts” is currently on display at Art on Hulfish, a satellite gallery of the Princeton University Art Museum tucked behind the Nassau Inn. The ex hibition, which runs from Nov. 19 to Jan. 29, highlights the life and work of Samuel Fosso, a Nige rian-Cameroonian photographer who specializes in self-portrai ture.
The Hulfish exhibition is pre sented in a chronological fash ion, wrapping around the walls of the room, demonstrating Fos so’s progression as an artist. His initial photographs, a series from the 1970s, were developed from unused film he had after spend ing days photographing sitters for portraits. The stark blackand-whiteness of the pictures highlights Fosso’s creative use of posing and fashion. He dons pat terned shirts, large sunglasses, and wide-legged pants, challeng ing the social norms at the time. Fosso’s staging is striking — in various pictures, he props a foot on a stool, peers out through a set of curtains, or engages the view ers directly by looking directly at them. His initial photographs, despite the austere lack of color, have a vibrancy and playfulness, contrasting the war and illness that surrounded his life at the time. Fosso’s inventive fashion and photography acted as an es cape from the harsh world around him.
Fosso’s 1997 collection, a collab oration with French discount re tailer Tati, exhibits his departure from the black-and-white photos of the 1970s. Despite this tran sition to color, certain themes remain in Fosso’s work, such as his desire to communicate so cial messages through his work. For example, one photograph
displays Fosso seated against a brightly patterned backdrop. Red shoes rest adjacent to his bare feet while Fosso holds a collection of tall sunflowers. He wears equally patterned clothes and a pair of white sunglasses. The photograph is called “Le Chef qui a vendu l’Af rique aux colons,” or “The Chief Who Sold Africa to the Colonists.” Through the busy colors and de signs of the piece, Fosso com municates a clear social message about the role of African leaders in colonization and their complex relationship with imperialist na tions. In other photographs in his Tati series, Fosso embodies other figures, such as rockers, bour geois women, and businessmen. His exploration of identity allows him to use his own body as a can vas to take on the persona and sig nificance of other historical and fictional figures.
As the exhibition moves to Fos so’s more recent work from this century, the photographs begin to blend his two initial styles — a mix of color and black-andwhite photographs hung from the walls. However, unlike his pre vious work, Fosso poses as spe cific historical figures, including Muhammad Ali, Martin Luther King Jr., Angela Davis, and Mao Zedong. In these works, Fosso communicates specific social and political messages, whether he is highlighting an American Civil Rights figure or the relationship between China and the African continent. In addition, there is a large color photograph of Fosso dressed in papal clothing, implor ing the viewer to consider the in tersection of race and religion and the fact that a Black person has never served as pope.
Fosso’s most recent work is dis played on a monitor on the back wall of the exhibition space. The
monitor displays a loop of self portraits taken by the photogra pher to highlight the evils of so ciety. This collection is a response to personal hardship, such as the ruination of his photographer studio, and an overarching global crisis. The shots are completely identical except for Fosso’s ex pression, creating an eerie gloom that deviates from the vivacity of his previous work. The blur of smiles, tired eyes, and angry ex pressions displayed sequentially illuminated the humanity behind global conflict for me. I was able to see the struggles of one man and connect with his diverse emo tions about a fraught world. Fos so’s photographs reminded me to consider global tragedies beyond mere facts and statistics, and in stead remember the people affect ed by disaster.
As viewers leave the photog
raphy portion of the exhibition, they are led to a small interactive area where they can begin to ex periment with the photography techniques that Fosso uses. The artistic space asks participants to create an accessory for their own self-portraits, mimicking the style of Fosso’s entire portfo lio. The exercise encourages par ticipants to engage in the same creative thinking that Fosso does.
The current exhibition at Hulfish transcends simple snap shots by dialoguing with viewers on important themes of identity, expression, and the individual relationship to the larger society around them.
Isabella Dail is a contributing writer for The Prospect at the ‘Prince.’ Please direct any corrections to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
By Gabriel Robare, Head Puzzles Editor
Crossword puzzles are hard. Really hard. Every avid solver remembers their first com pleted puzzle, after much Googling, erasing, and guessing.
“There’s this perception that to solve your first Monday puzzle” — the easiest day of the week in the super-popular New York Times crossword — “you need to bang your head against the wall,” said Yacob Yonas ’15, a soft ware engineer at Runway and a freelance cross word constructor for the Times. Since 2018, he’s made 11 puzzles for the paper.
“Try a lot, fail a lot, and eventually some thing will click,” he said. “But if you don’t know most of the references, you’re going to be S.O.L.”
Therein lies the problem with crossword puzzles, especially in recent years. Construc tors orient the references in their puzzles, their themes, clues, and answers, toward crossword puzzles’ traditional audience: old white men. If you don’t know them — too bad.
Yonas only got into crosswords in 2016, after a friend mentored him on wordlists, construct ing software, and specialized vocabulary. Here at the University, there now exists at this paper a pipeline to train and educate new construc tors. But The Daily Princetonian’s Puzzles sec tion still has no Black constructors, a persistent issue across the crossword community. Yonas and other Black constructors are working to change that.
More Black constructors — Yonas among them — published puzzles in the Times in 2021 than in either 2018 or 2019. This was spear headed by “Black Constructors’ Week,” an effort organized by Yonas. And nearly twice as many female constructors published in the two years from 2020–2021 (148) than in the 2018–2019 (89).
More diverse constructors means more clues accounting for the perspectives and experienc es of historically marginalized groups. For ex ample, in the Times puzzle, the answer GAY was clued in reference to homosexuality only four out of its 29 appearances between 1994 and 2015, instead usually being clued as either the emotion or, more obscurely, the 18th-century playwright John Gay.
Since 2015, the answer has been consistent ly clued in reference to homosexuality (most commonly as “The ‘G’ of L.G.B.T.”). A similar trend exists for TRANS and QUEER. LESBIAN made its first appearance in the Times puzzle in 2019. Answers are becoming more relevant to more diverse groups of people.
It’s an uphill climb, though. One commenter
during the Black Constructors’ Week wrote, “I prefer puzzles to be fun, not dry activist trea tises that promote political ideology.”
Members of comment sections often take up the mantle of judging what are “good” or “bad” answers. Commenters will often decry a puzzle as “bad” if its answers do not fit their body of knowledge. Another comment, on the same puzzle, wrote: “The puzzle foregoes intel ligence and skill for driving home its political point.”
These comments may go unnoticed in the depths of obscure blogs — but sometimes, such sentiments exist on a larger platform. XWord Info is a database of the entire history of The New York Times crossword; its statistics, clue archive, and analysis are invaluable tools for every constructor. The website calls itself “the essential resource for crossword construc tors and enthusiasts.”
Every Times puzzle is reviewed on this web site by Jeff Chen, a professional constructor who has collaborated with 51 different con tributors, far more than any others in the field. Chen is the sole operator of XWord Info.
In a XWord Info essay that was influential in the puzzle community, Kameron Austin Col lins GS ’16 applauded Chen for lowering the barrier of entry for prospective constructors. Collins is Black and participated in the Times’s Black Constructors’ Week. He is a crossword contributor for the New Yorker and has pub lished 20 puzzles as a freelancer for the New York Times.
“[That essay] changed the tone of the conver sation” around crosswords, Yonas said.
“Jeff has regularly mentored constructors, underrepresented and not,” Collins wrote in the essay. “His column reads — in sum, and in the broader context of XWord Info — like a running tutorial on how to make publishable crosswords.”
But Chen’s common knowledge is as subjec tive as any of those commenters. He was skep tical of the answer OLIVIA POPE, Kerry Wash ington’s character in “Scandal” for which she was nominated for an Emmy and Golden Globe award. He didn’t like the answer CHAKA with the clue “Singer Khan,” thinking it too obscure; the funk singer has won ten Grammy awards and has two platinum albums. Chen asked “WTF?” to the answer HAUDENOSAUNEE, the traditional name of the Iroquois Confederacy.
Collins’s essay explains that because Chen and his website has an educational mission to
be “the essential resource for constructors and enthusiasts,” his opinions teach constructors that they should hew to the same old answers, making the same old references, for the same old solvers.
Chen wrote of the answer INUKTITUT (the language of the Inuit people), “I wonder if it alienated some solvers. Not everyone loves forced learning.” This is the problem: solvers don’t want to learn. This problem around learn ing — especially learning about communities other than the typical solver’s own — is per sistent in the world of puzzles. If an answer is unknown to a solver, it must be a bad puzzle.
So what, then, is the solution? Yonas thinks that solvers need a change in attitude.
“We should get to the point where people see it as a thing to learn rather than a way for people to prove that they’re smart,” he said. “If we make more references, make a more di verse constructor base, then we can get closer to making that happen.”
“If we had more people lifting up things they learned, things that challenged the way they see the world, it would enforce a different behavior,” he continued.
Answers referencing diverse communities ought to be seen as valuable learning experi ences, not annoying esoterica, Yonas argued. More solvers with this ethos will encourage editors to publish more answers that go beyond
‘baseball and opera’ — the vernacular of the rich old white people who tend to solve puzzles with their morning coffee.
“Making more diverse and relevant refer ences to all communities will bolster the solver pipeline. Then there is a natural pipeline from solvers to constructors,” he said. “If you make solvers more diverse, it makes constructors more diverse.”
When asked what he intends to do to help these efforts, Yonas had a simple answer: “I’m most concerned with bringing the puzzle to people who didn’t think the puzzle was for them.”
Gabriel Robare is a head puzzles editor and a writer for various other sections at the ‘Prince.’ Please direct any corrections requests to corrections[at]dai lyprincetonian.com.
If you are interested in joining the ‘Prince’ Puzzles section, email puzzles@ dailyprincetonian.com.
Following the departure of Mollie Marcoux ’91, John Mack ’00 was appointed as the new Ford Fam ily Director of Athletics at Princeton in 2021. In an interview with The Daily Princetonian, Mack spoke about what has changed since he was a student, the relevance of his diverse work experiences to his current role, and his goals as athletic director at Princeton.
The Daily Princetonian: Tell me about your self. How did your recruitment process start? What was it like being an athlete at Princeton in the late 1990s? What was student life like?
John Mack: I grew up in a small town in Michigan, outside of Detroit. If you were an ath lete, the University of Michigan [and] Michigan State were the two big options.
I had a scholarship offer to go to the Universi ty of Michigan. I was thrilled; I was going to go and be happy. But the track coaches at Princeton started calling and recruiting, and every oth er week, we’d have a conversation [where] they started telling me about this place.
I came to Princeton to tell them no, since they kept calling, even though I told them I was going to go to the University of Michigan. I came on my Princeton recruiting visit wearing a University of Michigan jacket, which my coaches never let me live down. But from the moment I got here, I fell in love with the place. I think I came with a lot of assumptions about what life at an Ivy League school was like [and] what the people would be like, and those were all quickly put to rest.
DP: You’ve worked in other fields before com ing back to Princeton. How have they shaped who you are today and the experience you bring to the job?
JM: I think the diversity of my previous work as a pastor and as an attorney helps shape the way I come to work every day. I’ve told people, when you are pastoring and when you are an attorney, you are seeing people at their best and at their worst, and [the job of pastors and attor neys] is to love [people] at their best and at their worst. I think in many ways, that’s what college is. We see students at their best and at their worst, especially in athletics. You have the high est of highs, then you have the lowest of lows, and the job is to help students who are in a really critical part of their life navigate through that.
DP: Reflecting on your first year, what goals do you feel you’ve achieved and what are you looking ahead towards for year two?
JM: I jokingly tell people I did a fantastic job of staying out of the way last year. Our teams
had a lot of success, but, I think the beauty is that Princeton was in fantastic shape when I got here. My predecessor, Mollie Marcoux, did an incredible job leading the department during her seven years, and so for me, I really wanted to spend most of the first year listening. What are the things that I don’t know? Where are the issues that I’m not as familiar with?
One of the things that we did this past year was having our first-ever Tiger Coaches Summit to really invest in our coaches and profession al development. We had a retreat that allowed them to sit and talk to each other and interact and pick each other’s brains in ways that they don’t have an opportunity to do during the year. One of the other really important things to me was focusing on our DEI [Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion] efforts not just for the student-ath letes, but across campus. The university recently announced the partnership with Godfrey Fitz gerald Salon, we played a big part in making that happen.
JM: Given that you understand the academic rigor here at Princeton, how important is it to you that the athletes here are not only athleti cally proficient but academically prepared for all the challenges that Princeton will throw at them?
I think for me, the academic rigor at Princ eton and our athletic success go hand in hand. You know, those are the two non-negotiables of being a student-athlete at Princeton or being a coach at Princeton. When I do interviews for coaching positions, the first thing I say is a successful coach here has to understand the academic life that our students have and that sometimes they may miss practice. Sometimes you may have to not have practice. You have to schedule games and travel in consideration of what class times are like. If you can’t understand that part of being here, you won’t be successful and our student-athletes will not have a good experience. One of the things that I’ve tried to do is share my experience. I struggled the first two years getting up to speed academically because I wasn’t as prepared as a lot of students were, and trying to message to students what the path to success looks like at Princeton.
DP: As a former Division I athlete, how has the experience of being an athlete evolved over the years, and what is Princeton doing to sup port players with interests in going pro, or who are interested in taking advantage of Name, Im age, and Likeness (NIL) deals, as well as balanc ing career/academic ambitions?
JM: I think being a stu dent-athlete at Princeton has changed incredibly. One, the athletes we have now are in finitely better than the ath letes who were here when I was a student-athlete. We didn’t have guys like [football’s se nior wide receiver] Andrei Io sivas walking around when I was a student-athlete.
I also think the reality of mental health is so prevalent now that it’s such a part of the day-to-day experience and making sure that we are pro viding all the resources neces sary for our student-athletes to have a well-rounded and successful experience. That has [all] changed.
When I was here, we didn’t focus on nutrition. We didn’t talk about sleep. It was just understood, you know, to sleep as much as you needed to and then do lots of work. But now we understand differently the role that sleep plays in performance, both for student-athletes and students in general. I think college athletics is a much more complex experience now. I think for me, that’s part of why I wanted to come back — because of the experience that I had as a student-athlete, and because there were people here to help guide me along the way. I tell the story all the time about Hank Towns — he was our equipment manager. He was an old Black man. He worked here for 35 or 40 years, and he still comes around.
When I came on my recruiting visit, my par ents met Hank and he and my father hit it off instantly. When [Hank] was leaving to go back to the equipment room, Hank said, Mr. Mack, I got to go. But I can tell you this: If you send your son to Princeton, we will take care of him. That message resonated with my father till the day he died. And I think because of the impact that Hank had when I got here, he took care of me. He’d take me to his house, take me to his church. He really made Princeton feel like home. And I think because that was what someone did for me, I owe it to the universe and to the genera tions of current and future student-athletes at Princeton and students as a whole to offer that same kind of help and support as they navigate this place.
DP: Princeton Athletics recruits student-ath letes from all over the world with a variety of backgrounds. As a Black college athlete your self, what are you doing to establish diversity amongst all the teams?
JM: Maintaining a diverse student-athlete population is one of our highest priorities — and to do that while maintaining our competitive success. I think that the only way to ensure that you have the best and brightest is to cast as wide a net as possible in recruiting, both in terms of drawing student-athletes, and in terms of drawing coaches and staff members. The broad er the reach we have, the more likely you are to have a diverse pool. I think naturally we’ll put together a really diverse student-athlete cohort and a diverse coaching staff and administrative staff. You have to absolutely be intentional and message to people that it is important for us as a department and as a university [to be diverse], and I think we have the opportunity to continue to grow, develop, and provide a life-changing student-athlete experience for student-athletes from every diverse population. I think that’s what makes being a student-athlete so special: athletics creates a community, a real, diverse community.
Brian Mhando is a contributor to the Sports and Podcast sections at the ‘Prince.’ Please direct any corrections requests to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
Emmy-nominated movie and television actor Jon athan Majors sat down with Professor in the Human ities Paul Muldoon, who also serves as the director of the Princeton Atelier, for an event held in the Jimmy Stewart ’32 Theater on Tuesday, Nov. 29. They dis cussed Majors’ past roles and what the general public can expect from his upcoming movies.
“Acting literally saved my ass,” Majors said during the event, which is part of the Atelier at Large series, “Conversations on Art-Making in a Vexed Era.”
Majors’s rise to fame began while he was still a stu dent at the David Geffen School of Drama at Yale Uni versity, when he received his first major onscreen role in the ABC mini-series “When We Rise,” in which he played gay rights activist Ken Jones.
Majors recounted how playing a gay character gave him new insights, even though he is straight and was raised in a Christian household with a pas tor for a mother. Majors also mentioned that he doesn’t know if production companies would cast him in the role today, due to the call for LGBTQ+ characters to be played solely by LGBTQ+ actors.
In meeting the real-life Ken Jones, he said he came to think of the concept of healing in a new light. Majors said that his experience playing an activist character causes him to fight for those who aren’t accepted for who they are, and as a result, he tries to relieve people of their stress and familial trauma. Majors said that, for him, this fight extends on and off camera.
“I’m in the healing business,” he said.
Although the “When We Rise” role offered Ma jors his big break, he explained that he needed to persuade his faculty advisor at Yale to allow him to take the role.
The Yale School of Drama was initially hesitant in letting Majors take the role because, in his words, they wanted to “brand him.” Majors added that if Yale hadn’t let him do the part, he was going to “hit it and quit it with Yale.”
“Do I hate Yale? Yeah,” Majors added. “We tend to hate things that hold secrets.”
Though Majors highlighted some of his more neg ative experiences at Yale in regards to constraints on his acting pursuits, he also thanked the School of Drama for the training that it offered him.
Majors earned his Masters in Fine Arts from Yale
in 2016, and soon thereafter starred as Corporal Hen ry Woodson in the 2017 film “Hostiles” — a film and a role that Majors described as “high risk, high reward.”
Muldoon and Majors then steered the discussion to the latter’s 2019 role in “The Last Black Man in San Francisco.” Majors said that, while in production for this film, he and director Joe Talbot would walk up and down the streets of San Francisco.
Majors described his interaction with Talbot and the directors and producers of his other films as a “collaborative” process.
“My most intimate relationship is between me and my director,” he said.
The conversation then moved to the subject of Majors’s role in the HBO show “Lovecraft Country,” which earned him an Emmy nomination for Out standing Lead Actor In A Drama Series in 2021, the same year he starred in the Netflix original film “The Harder They Fall.”
According to Majors, the Netflix original was met with resistance, due to the film being on “the brink of breaking walls down,” as a movie with a Black en semble and, especially, a Black Western movie.
Majors said he hopes to see those walls knocked down throughout his acting career, as he envisions “The Harder They Fall” ushering in more Black West erns.
“We smacked it, we did that. The whole gesture of the film was rebellion, put all of these Black folks together and say, ‘watch this,’” he said.
When asked about his most recent film “Devo tion,” in which he plays Jesse Brown, the first African American aviator in the Navy, Majors mentioned how the movie has reminded him of his childhood, since he was born and raised for some time on a mil itary base due to his father’s work in the Air Force.
He also mentioned that he thought of his grand father in particular throughout much of produc tion, due to what Majors sees as parallels between his grandfather and Jesse Brown: They were both African American men making history in roles no person from their community had held before. To Majors, the character of Jesse became almost like a friend.
On his approach to evaluating potential new proj ects, Majors said he thinks more about the weight
of the character than about the weight of the story. His approach to storytelling is to try to do “as little acting as possible.”
As the event was coming to an end, students in attendance were able to ask questions.
One student asked if Majors was concerned about possible constraints with his upcoming Marvel proj ects. Majors is slated to appear in the upcoming Marvel Studios films “Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quan tumania,” opening in February 2023, and “Avengers: The Kang Dynasty,” with an anticipated release in May 2025.
In response, Majors said that “artists need con straints,” and that he doesn’t look at his role in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) negatively. “The MCU has offered me a large platform,” Majors added.
When asked about his fast-paced work life, he said that nobody pushes him harder than he pushes himself.
“I’m not tired, I don’t feel the need to stop the pace,” he explained.
Later on, Majors urged those who have a desire to pursue acting to express vulnerability and to be open to new opportunities. “If you go in there hun gry, you make the wrong decisions,” he said.
“When you don’t put out, you keep it in,” Majors added, as he urged actors to let their emotions out on the screen and not to wait for their emotions to kick in off camera, saying that the latter could wind up af fecting both personal and professional relationships.
Majors also described the various forms of push back he has received throughout his career.
“I received pushback from the world, and even my own people,” he said.
The event ended with Majors discussing his past poetic pursuits, saying that he hopes to write more poetry in the future. Majors then recited “I Imagine The Gods,” a poem by Jack Gilbert, whom Majors cites as one of his many inspirations.
“Help me to find the heft of these days,” Majors read, “That the nights will be full enough and my heart feral.”
Justus Wilhoit is a news and Prospect contributor for the ‘Prince.’ Please direct all corrections to corrections[at] dailyprincetonian.com.
The University prompted many questions last year when it decided not to release the statistics for the newly-admitted class of 2026. Instead, it released the statistics for students who matriculated this fall without some of the traditional information about aver age test scores or the acceptance rate. While not disclosing some indicators regarding selectivity of the University, the information disclosed made one thing clear: The undergraduate population is getting more racially diverse.
With 25 percent of the incoming class identi fying as Asian American, nine percent identify ing as Black or African American, eight percent identifying as Hispanic or Latino, seven percent identifying as multiracial, and less than one per cent identifying as Native American, Native Ha waiian, or Pacific Islander, a significant percent of Princeton students are not white. Further, the administration has made welcome commitments to diversity in the student body and in the hiring, retention, and promotion of faculty and staff of color. This begs the question: Does the change in composition of our undergraduate body and some strides in diversifying the faculty and staff make Princeton any less of a Predominantly White In stitution?
A Predominantly White Institution (PWI) is generally defined as a school where white people account for 50 percent or more of the student body. At Princeton, that is no longer the case. However, over the course of the 276 years of the University, the vast majority of student bodies have been composed of white men. The steps towards diver
sity on campus are a relatively new occurrence. In 1904, Woodrow Wilson said of Princeton that “[t]he whole temper and tradition of the place are such that no negro has ever applied for admission and it seems extremely unlikely that the question will ever assume a practical form.” In a 1940 poll in the Nassau Sovereign, 62.4 percent of the student body opposed allowing Black students to enroll.
While the undergraduate population of the University has been growing more diverse in the last few decades, the campus community is de fined by so much more than just the current stu dent population. The composition of Princeton’s faculty, the history of the institution, and the culture of the school contribute to the sense that Princeton not only has been, but most certainly still is a PWI.
We are lucky that so many of our professors are tremendously distinguished and well-respected within their fields and are often excellent class room teachers, but we must also acknowledge that they hail largely from a similar, privileged background and that — despite recent hiring pri orities — the faculty is still predominantly white.
This continues to contribute to a culture in which the definition of excellence often stems from a standard of what has been accepted and valued in white culture. For students from histor ically underrepresented backgrounds, even when those populations are now a majority of students on campus, that means taking on the obligations and challenges of code-switching and fitting in to appear professional under standards that are hundreds of years old and in which the University
is steeped. Though African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) and different ways of presenting oneself are becoming more accepted in certain parts of U.S. culture and even on campus, there is still a long way to go in making progress on these issues.
Being a PWI captures not only the composi tion of the student body, but also the ethos of the community. Yet even the racial composition of the student body might soon revert back to the numerical definition of a PWI in the near future due to the current Supreme Court cases regarding race-conscious admissions.
While Princeton continues to grapple with its legacy and current state of faculty diversity, an other issue risks creating immediate negative ef fects on the diversity of the Princeton community: the Supreme Court cases against race-conscious affirmative action. The racial composition of the Princeton community may be radically changed in the near future because of the cases that came before the Supreme Court this week.
The widely predicted outcome of the Supreme Court case on race-conscious admissions may mean that the composition of the student body could revert back to being predominantly white, which would likely create obstacles in the incre mental progress that has been made to change these norms and standards. In this session of the Supreme Court, race-conscious admissions will likely be deemed unconstitutional by the largely conservative Court. While race-conscious policies could remain in place for a few more years, this year’s anticipated decision would reshape the way
that colleges and universities could consider ra cial diversity in admitting their incoming classes. Many arguments exist as to why race should be considered in the admissions process, but partic ularly for communities like Princeton — which has committed to combating the history and leg acy of white exclusivity on this campus — such tools for diversification have proven to be neces sary to make progress in reimagining the culture of the University.
Whether Princeton will be able to continue considering racial background in the admissions process is now outside of the University’s con trol; however, the University’s commitment to diversification of its student body, faculty, staff, and cultural expectations ought to remain strong regardless of the Supreme Court’s decision. The University must ensure that regardless of the out come of the case, there is a plan to continue to progress these goals.
The last 50 years of the University’s history re flect a marked and welcome shift by including so many people who have been historically excluded to be students, faculty, and staff here. It would be a grave mistake for Princeton to allow the anticipat ed Supreme Court decision to cement in place its cultural history as a PWI, and for the University to stop implementing and prioritizing policies that support and expand diversity on this campus.
Mohan Setty-Charity is a junior from Amherst, Mass., concentrating in economics. He can be reached at ms99@princeton.edu.