The bus was slow and jerky, as it made its way down Mayfield Boulevard all the way out to Gates Mills. I would catch it near Mayfield and Taylor. The first time I got on, the Black male students were in the back, the White students were in the front, and there was this no man’s land in between. Since I was neither, I sat in no man’s land. It wasn’t uncomfortable, as being Asian American is to occupy that in-between, twilight status within America’s racial hierarchy. This was not unfamiliar, neither day or night.

 

Over time, that in between status became all the more familiar. There was a closeness, a camaraderie among the Black students, especially the men, many of whom were in my grade. Being new and among the first female students to make Hawken co-educational, it took a bit, but eventually, I was friendly with all students on the bus who were in my grade. The reassuring part was being able to feel the ties that bound the Black male students who were on the bus before me and feeling they would look out for me, if ever there was a reason for it.

 

The irony was that there was time I felt I needed to look out for them, not that I, as a small, Asian woman could really do anything. 

 

Many of us were in choir together. Five of the Black men in choir, most of whom were fellow bus riders, formed a smaller group named, Spice. They were so good. They sang songs like their signature one, Sara Smile, in 5-part harmony with all the Motown moves. It was always a special moment in choir concerts when Spice performed. I was a huge fan. They always brought down the house.

 

The choir had a tour to Cincinnati and Lexington KY. Everything went well in Cincy. The next day, we crossed over to Kentucky passing through bluegrass fields. The sister independent school where we went looked so much like Hawken --big rolling lawns, stately older buildings.

 

We performed in the gymnasium. Everything went well. The audience was appreciative. Then, Spice was introduced. I was shocked at the tension, especially the boo-ing. Everyone held their breath and the energy in the room drained. That’s when I realized that the student body was virtually all-White. You could cut the racism in the room with a knife.

 

I remember thinking, I need to do something, someone needs to do something. But what would that be? I felt I needed to look out for my friends, but I was at such a loss as to what that would be.

 

And, then Spice began to sing. I could feel they all were on edge, but they summoned the strength to give a great performance under such pressure. Slowly, the audience warmed and started appreciating the music, especially Darrell Boyd’s incomparable dulcet tones. It’s not that the racism went away, but some connection was made and broke through.

 

We returned from the trip, but I never saw the choir or thought of the school’s leadership the same again. Did they not realize in going to a Mason-Dixon state that such a thing could happen? Was Gates Mills such a bubble as to render the school’s leadership blind, even though we all lived in the Cleveland Metro area which has been a historically racially mixed area with a significant and long-standing vibrant Black community? But, if anything 2020 has taught us is the lack of experience and awareness that White privilege brings.

 

****

I was struck very early on in my time at Hawken by the pathway to leadership the school offered exceptional students. The education and training were critical for the students to make a transition from whatever economic situation they came from to having the aspirations of the ruling class. This was accomplished for my grade. Forty years later, we do, indeed, have the lawyers and judges, doctors, C-suite business executives, government and military leaders, leaders in sports, entertainment, nonprofits and education, not only for Cleveland and the country, but across the globe.

 

And, that class transition was frequently tinged with reminders of the racism and economic divides that have always existed in our country.

 

I was a guest to Cotillion. I had no idea what that meant or was, but gamely attended. I walked in with my escort, a tall White man, into an old, esteemed venue that reeked of tradition. As we enjoyed drinks and appetizers, I came to realize that I was one of only a few people of color in the room. Moreover, all of the waiters were Filipino men. They asked me how I got invited. I related more to these gentlemen than the debutantes who were being presented. This was the next rung in my class transition, exposure to these traditions that a child of immigrant parents of modest means would never have otherwise known. Privilege comes in many forms and often goes unrevealed to the general public. This is the social part of exposing students to class privilege.

 

The preparations for leadership included a college prep framework. However, being in the first group of female students, the school was not prepared to adequately support, let alone excel at serving, the newly diverse students in their midst. The message that I received from the college counselor in those days was that the Ivies and other prestigious colleges and universities were not available to me, as the recommendations I received included only women’s colleges and those that were not among the top schools in the country.

 

There is nothing wrong with these schools. But I was incensed that, because I was female, I received no encouragement to pursue the ambitions that were promoted at the school. So I did it on my own. Male privilege and gender discrimination were very present in the mid-1970s.

 

***

I have greatly appreciated the experiences and sense of community that I have built through Hawken. I am still close to many high school friends, which is an incredible blessing. Did Hawken teach me about diversity, equity, and inclusion? Yes, but perhaps not in the way that we aspire to today. We all have been awakened, if not over the last 40 years, certainly over the year of 2020.

The need for diverse and aware leaders who have the ability to build community cross-racially, across gender, and across other forms of difference is essential to growing the citizens and leaders of tomorrow. It is my hope that Hawken will continue to be self-critical in this regard, and I hope to be a partner along the way.

 

 

 

It has been 45 years since I walked across the stage to receive my Hawken diploma, becoming the first black female to earn alumni status. From that moment, my journey has taken many paths. From Northwestern University to corporate executive, wife, mother, entrepreneur, world traveler, and self-empowerment guru, I live life passionately and undefined. Reflecting on my high school years, I wondered did my Hawken experience prepare me to be a confident black woman and leader?

Growing up in the 60s, I experienced several firsts. It was 1966, and my dad agreed to pioneer a program with the Urban League to integrate Cleveland's suburbs. We moved from our black community's sanctity, where I had friends and attended schools where everyone looked like me, to Euclid, OH, where I became the first and only black girl in elementary school and racism was rampant. After giving my classmate a good old-fashioned beat down for calling me the N-word, I received detention, but he did not. This incident was the first of many "white privilege" experiences that shaped my life. Dad had a subsequent conversation with the principal and fixed the problem, but it left an indelible mark on my psyche. However, it could not erase the fact that I was smart and had the support of my third-grade teacher, and my parents. "Don't worry about being included, be independent" was the key message from those years and paved the way for me to attend Hawken.

In the early '70s, we moved to Cleveland Heights, where I went to public school. Ironically Kathy Ko and I were friends in junior high school and later reunited at Hawken. Kathy is also featured in this issue and was the first Asian woman to graduate from Hawken.

The stars aligned in the fall of my sophomore year. Janet Hoerr, a lower school admissions advisor and Hawken parent came to our home for dinner. My brother Chris attended Hawken's lower school campus, and Mrs. Hoerr visited with us to see how we were adjusting as a family. As the evening progressed, we conversed over a wide range of topics, and she excitedly shared that Hawken was going coed and asked would I like to go? There was one catch, the admissions test was that Saturday giving me five days to apply. I had never been on Hawken's upper school campus and did not know anyone else who went there. Upon receiving my acceptance letter, I remember the pained expression on Dad's face. How could we afford it? We weren't wealthy, and two children in private school were beyond his reach. When Mrs. Hoerr learned about his concerns, she called and told us that she and Dr. Hoerr, head of surgery at Cleveland Clinic, would pay my tuition. This random act of kindness was a filter I used to evaluate Hawken, and it became a defining moment in my life.

 

Touring the campus was amazing. A personal welcome from the "boys," a group of young black men in my class, led by Derrick Harkins, was comforting. They were my guides and protectors and, to this day, are mainstays in my village. When school began, I bonded with the younger black women to navigate through the unspoken rules. As the senior black female on campus, I instinctively knew it was my job to make sure microaggressions did not marginalize my sisters. Of course, at that time we did not use this diversity language to describe the uneasiness we experienced. We simply knew there was a double standard of white privilege.

I was not prepared for the immense wealth of the families and how this would impact my socialization. There was nothing worse than being invited to ski, travel, or participate in events requiring extra money when you could barely pay tuition because scholarships did not cover extracurricular activities. Black students relied on neighborhood relationships, joined black organizations like Jack and Jill and formed bonds with other black students from neighboring elite prep schools just to maintain our sanity and sense of belonging.

We knew our behavior had to be above reproach; we knew we had to be bigger, badder, bolder, and wiser to have our voices heard. This was especially true during the college application process, where many teachers were inexperienced in assisting scholarship students on financial aid, or often steered them to lower-tiered schools.

We did not have courses on African American, Asian, or Native American culture or history. There wasn't a Black History or Hispanic Heritage Month, and formal cultural exchange was non-existent. Most importantly, Hawken did not have a black mentor or advisor. We were just expected to assimilate. Most of us simply had our parents and were “firsts” in our families to be privately educated.

So how did Hawken prepare me to be a confident black woman and leader despite the impact of sexism and white privilege? Hawken delivered on its promise to prepare me for college. To stretch beyond my comfort zone, think independently, and elevate my voice beyond the crowd. It fostered my curiosity and exposed me to a world of possibilities.

But the truth is, like me, most students of color already have what is necessary to excel before arriving on campus. The year 2020 brought us to the precipice of significant change in America. It is against the backdrop of this change that Hawken must reinvent, refresh, and reshape its commitment to inclusion to develop the best leaders.

"It's been a long time coming, but I know a change is gonna' come..." Sam Cooke

This song by Sam Cooke embodies everything that's happened this year. From COVID to social justice and political upheaval, we are on the precipice of significant change in America. It is against this backdrop that Hawken must reinvent, refresh, and reshape its commitment to inclusion to develop the best leaders. When I returned for my 40th reunion, it was amazing to see the campus's physical transformation into a sprawling educational center rivaling many colleges. But it wasn't the Stirn building or the remodeled White House that spoke progress to me. It was seeing the logos for Howard, Spelman, and Morehouse in the college admissions office that made me feel hope. Hawken had changed, but there is more work to do.

When I visit Hawken's website, the diversity statement is not prominent. It needs to be simplified, actionable, embedded in everyone’s fiber. Tell us your metrics for success and accountability. How diverse are your stakeholders? Share the numbers. Students, faculty, trustees, and board members. I read about Hawken’s remarkable state-of-the art facilities and mastery curriculum, but where do we stand on diversity? What research are you doing to truly understand the student experience? I know young black women are still struggling with inclusion 47 years later.

I shared my reflections and stories to help bring voice and perspective to the issue. The personal touch is one of the most important and inclusive actions you can take to make a difference. I will never forget that visit from Mrs. Hoerr 47 years ago. She took the time to really know me, learn what I value, and acknowledge me. It is her random act of kindness, empathy in action, which helped shape my leadership. If Hawken can foster empathy and understanding in a privileged student’s experience, it can begin bridging the gap from integration to real inclusion for its emerging leaders.