Category Archives: Covid-19

One Final Assignment: This is your Seventeen-Years Moment, Celebrate it!

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Written and Spoken by Professor LaToya T. Brackett

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Listen to this letter in audio form. Be sure to open in a new tab, to read along.

A Prelude: I love being a professor, at times I loathe being both a professor and an empath, and a trained counselor. I loathe it because I often pick up on things that many of my colleagues do not, or if they do, the intentionality of responding is not always there. I loathed seeing my students on virtual classes after our spring break. But mostly, I loathed seeing the removal of joy in my seniors. And as professors, we all did, I am sure. But at moments I would feel the depression they had, and their removal of excitement—excitement that had been building and worked towards for seventeen years, and some change. It was gone—almost. And I couldn’t allow that. So I sat down to write this letter to you all.

My Dearest Class of 2020,

The reality is… these are moments you will remember.

Since childhood you’ve thought about what college you would attend. What friends you would make. Wondering what you would major in. Places you would go for breaks. The type of freedom you would feel away from home. And most likely, you dreamed about what it would be like to walk across that stage, with your cap and gown, in front of your families and friends. The moment you knew would represent seventeen years of schooling, seventeen years of homework, seventeen years of being tested, seventeen years of new friendships, broken friendships, and forever friendships. Seventeen years of awesome teachers, teachers that did the best they could, teachers who changed your life, teachers you would like to forget, and teachers you can’t wait to tell, “I did it!” For many of you, college has been a part of your future since you knew what a future was.

Well guess what, that future is now.

Those seventeen years of yearning are coming to a close. Unfortunately, your culminating moment comes in a time of crisis, of uncertainty, of quarantine, of social distancing in a time where social over-exaggeration is THE requirement, you are in a pandemic—Covid-19. And this virus, that has no vaccine, or guaranteed cure, is out there removing your seventeen years of accumulated joy. And we have come to know that the only cure for this vaccine, is to have patience, perseverance, unknown health strength, and perhaps quite a bit of luck;

My Professorial last assignment to you, is CELEBRATE.

That’s right, I’m assigning you more homework. You thought you were finished. Well you’re not. I reserve the right to alter the syllabus at any time (professor humor, I know you might not be laughing). This assignment is required, it is not extra credit. Because this is a moment you will remember. I won’t allow any incompletes, because This. Is. The. Moment.

I know many universities are doing their best to prepare in-person graduation celebrations for the class of 2020 in the future—we still don’t know what the future looks like—so these celebrations (like the one at our university) are slated for a year after your original graduation date. And this is wonderful, it really is, and I hope all of you get to participate in that moment. But trust me, that moment, one year later, is not your Seventeen-Years moment. It will be a great moment indeed, but not like the one you are in right now. This pandemic-moment that you knocked out of your way to finalize those requirements for your college degree, is your Seventeen-Years-and-a-Pandemic moment. No one else has had a moment like this, and trust and believe no one has had a final semester/quarter of college like this. You are the novel graduation class of 2020 (sorry perhaps I shouldn’t use a pun so soon… but it is the truth). You spent seventeen years (and some of you, seventeen and some change, and you better know it doesn’t matter, the degree does), reaching for the same moment your friends from the class of 2019 had, your parents from the class of (they won’t tell you), because they showed you pictures or you joined in their pictures of their moment, and it was joyous. It was extreme social over-exaggeration, and they loved it and you yearned for one more year to get yours. Well, guess what, compared to their years, yours probably still feels like… To Be Determined…

My assignment to you is to be determined to make your moment positively memorable.

I remember my Seventeen-Years moment. I remember all of it. The good and the bad—but my bad came on suddenly with no warning, my bad couldn’t have been altered into an outlook of “damn, I finished those classes online, in quarantine, with uncertainty, and now I’m getting that paper. King, Kong ain’t got nothing on me,”—moment.

The reality is, I remember all of my graduations, high school, college, and graduate school. And the reality is, my moments were not so great. I did not always feel like some of the members of my family were there to cheer me on. At two of those graduations there were moments they proved my worries were right. I could tell you the torrid details of those moments, because guess what they are memorable, even more so, because they were in my Seventeen-Years-type of moments. But I won’t. I will tell you what I know to be true because of those sad memories.

I remember my joy before the unfortunate moments.

I remember my walk from the Arts quad, behind the Pan African flag with my friends to the field, where they told us to stand and move our tassel from one side to the other and we were thus graduated. I remember who I sat next to. I remember the people I greeted for the very last time ever. I remember trying so hard to find my best friends, but our Seventeen-Years moments were happening at the very same time and their Seventeen-Years moment cheerleaders socially overexaggerated around them. And I got pictures with each of them separately. But the day before we got one good picture before the amazing storms of celebration and joy that descended on our campus on the hill. I remember moments like this for my doctoral graduation as well, different type of level, different type of joy, but good memories. And for me, to still remember the great in those moments, when the bad still makes me wish for a do-over, means you can make your Seventeen-Years moment count too. And guess what, you already know what the worst aspect of it will be—all things covid-19.

I wanted a do-over of my moments, and there will never be one. I could attempt to put on my cap and gown today and walk across that stage, but all the energy that led up to when I earned my degrees, are no longer tingling and itching to get out. I worry that a year from now, my graduating students will no longer have that tingling and that itching, and walking across that stage will simply be protocol. And the reality is, the class of 2020 is beyond protocol. So, despite the reality that we must quarantine in your Seventeen-Years moment, be creative and celebrate like you never would have thought before.

We are all virtual now. That teacher from the 5th grade that told you how great you were at math, and gave you the confidence to fall in love with numbers and equations, can be at your virtual celebration. The professor that made you realize that you wanted to study something that you were excited about, can be there. Your grandparent who can’t travel anymore, can be there. Your friends from all over can pop in to say congratulations at any time. People you met on your study abroad to Ghana can be a witness too. So be creative.

I spoke about that tingling and itching you have right now to be finished with school, to have your university bequeath that you have met the requirements for your degree, and I wish to speak about it again. Don’t let go of it, not quite yet. Don’t let your worries about the world delete this feeling. Not until you’ve done the things that you always thought you’d be doing in celebration of this Seventeen-Years moment.

I’d like to share a story about one of you seniors. A senior told me she hadn’t taken any senior pictures. When I asked her for a picture to put up for our department’s virtual graduation celebration to recognize her, she felt she was falling short. She felt like, her picture she sent was not good enough for her graduation recognition moment. And that was an honest feeling. And I reminded her, this is the moment you have been waiting for, for a long time. She, like me is first generation, and she spoke about how her entire family was looking forward to her moment, because as many of us First Gens know, our success is a collective success. She was still living on campus while taking virtual classes, and I told her to go take her senior pictures. That’s right. I told her go get dressed up, and capture some memories. I suggested she ask one of her classmates in my course to help her—I knew just the right person with just the right amount of positivity in this uncertain time to make her senior pictures moment fun. And I told her, “no one is on campus, and no one will be looking at you funny as you pose—however you wish to pose.”

She took those pictures. She told me thank you. She told me her family was so excited to see her senior photos. She said it felt like she finally had a sense of closure on campus. 

I’m glad I gave her an assignment. I’m glad she embraced it. Because now I am embracing my role to share with the class of 2020, that this moment is memorable, and it will be remembered. How do you wish to remember it?

Assignment Title: Class of Covid-19

Assignment Prompt: You are the class of 2020, and in a decade or so you will probably be referred to as the Class of Covid-19. I hope you will embrace it, as it reiterates how amazing you truly are. But it is not yet a decade from now. For my students, May 17, 2020 was the date you were to participate in the official commencement ceremony on our campus. As of March 23, 2020, you found out that in-person commencement was postponed, and it will be held one year from now.

The first part of this assignment is to respond to the following questions:

  1. What were you most looking forward to for commencement?
  2. What things did you plan to do prior to commencement in preparation for it? (ex: buy a new outfit, get a fresh haircut, figure out how your hair would fit under that cap, buy a pair of shoes that your family could see from the stands, decorate your cap, send thank you cards to family, friends, professors, remind your family to purchase the cake that says “you did it!”, take senior pictures, grab a meal with your closest friends, send out invitations, look at yourself in the mirror and say “I made it.”)
  3. What things did you plan to do after your commencement ceremony? (ex: go out to dinner with family, have dessert, go to a party with friends, pack up all your stuff to move out, take pictures with your family, friends, and favorite professors, bask in the joy, shed a few tears at the bitter sweet, try not to worry about what’s next, experience the now.)

Secondly, now that you have responded to these questions, highlight the things you STILL CAN DO. Remember be creative. Enlist your family and friends for help. Brainstorm. Use all of those critical thinking skills you gained in your college career, and after seventeen years of homework, don’t let this one be late.

Congratulations to the unique, novel, resilient, determined, unapologetically celebratory, college class of 2020.

Sincerely,

Professor Brackett

P.S.

As a professor of African American studies, as a first generation student, as an African American woman, who never knew she’d be where she is today, as the graduate who worried about how her family would be able to afford the trip from Virginia to New York and later Michigan, as the sometimes three-job-having college student who worried how to afford my cap and gown, my new dress, my hair style, and the gas to drive myself back to Virginia, as the granddaughter of a grandparent who was incapable of walking from the stadium to north campus, as the black girl with a middle name she worried wouldn’t be pronounced correctly, as the First Gen who knew she would have to translate all the college speak for her family, as the dream and the hope of the slave, as the code switcher, as the girl who would tell people she graduated with honors from Cornell University and would often receive tones of congratulations that have the sound of surprise… It would be disrespectful of me to close out this letter without speaking for those often unheard.

I see you. I know that your future narratives from childhood don’t always look like what our society tells us it should. Your families may never have spoken about college. You may not have a family. Your seventeen years of schooling may not have looked like what our society defines as average, and this often means you are above average, but no one ever told you that. They told you something was wrong with you, they told you graduating from college probably wouldn’t happen. They said you would never make it. But you did. And this is why I get a tingling when I see you all, those often unseen, walk to commencement through our line of cheers as your proud professors. I get overly excited to see your joy. Your moment is most precious to me. So precious that I gladly wear my regalia each year, hat included, and sit as they read your names, and stay on campus until the tent of refreshments has no one left to refresh. I’m happy to hold the camera and get many photos of your entire crew in one image, or I’ll keep pushing the button until you captured the perfect graduation picture for all of your social media accounts. Because you won’t get this moment back. Because I know.

You are probably more likely qualified to survive this pandemic because your lives were required to have patience, perseverance, unknown health strength and some luck. Many of you ask yourself from time to time, why me? Why am I the one that got out? Why am I the one that made it?

I worry about whether you will be able to return to campus a year from now to participate in the commencement ceremony set to replace the one you are missing this month. I worry that your family can’t or won’t make it. I worry you will not want to return to a campus, a place, that you spent four years and maybe some change at, and still felt unheard and unseen.

Please for the often unheard, and often unseen, read between the lines, because I write this especially with us in mind. This is your Seventeen-Years moment, with seventeen years worth of doubts from others and yourself, and you made it. You made it. So celebrate it.

And it is you that made me say, I must write this. You won’t get this moment back. And you will always remember it. So make your Seventeen-Years moment positively memorable.

P.S.S.

Here’s a link to a celebration that showcases: This is how we do it.

Ohio State Med School grad's 'walk across the stage' seen all over the world

Since he was a toddler, Trent Johnson Jr. says he knew he wanted to be a doctor. Now, hundreds of thousands of people around the world are watching him "graduate" from Ohio State medical school, thanks to a dedicated family and a cell phone video on Twitter.https://bit.ly/2yvGh6w

Posted by The National Desk – TND on Wednesday, May 6, 2020

Citations Still Matter: For the credit and links to the Cap Designs, see list below, by number from top left to top right, and bottom left to bottom right.

1. Ancestors Cap 2. Dream & Vision 3. Chemistry 4. Si Se Pudo 5. Black Girl Magic 6. Ho’omau 7. Migrated 8. First Gen 9. Bball

The Invisible Survival Knapsack: Understanding the Privileged Realities that Remain in the Time of a Pandemic

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Written by Eliza Tesch

Link to Original Article by Peggy McIntosh

Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack

For the purposes of this article we are looking at the academic work entitled “The Invisible Knapsack” by Peggy McIntosh.  In the words of McIntosh, “White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools, and blank checks. Describing white privilege makes one newly accountable.”

McIntosh invites the reader to think critically about the circumstances of their life as an offshoot of identities (race, gender, sexual orientation, socio-economic status, citizenship, level of ability, occupation, etc.) and establishes the ideas that all people have a variety of identities that influence their lived experience, having certain identities makes life more or less challenging, and these identities are not mutually exclusive (ie. black women experience both racism and sexism). This Pandemic has made the inequalities that exist in our society more evident than ever. Many people who have not had to face the realities that people from marginalized groups live every day are experiencing for the first time what it feels like to have larger systems control in a very tangible way what they can and cannot do and have a negative impact on their life.

We have taken the original “The Invisible Knapsack” and altered it to apply specifically to the COVID-19 pandemic. For this activity, I invite you to read through and answer the questions below and take some time to reflect on your responses. To further challenge yourself, think about what privileges (or lack of privilege) you personally have and how the Coronavirus has impacted this. Think about the experiences of others that are different from your own and the systems of oppression that are or aren’t at play here. How does this make you feel, and what can you personally do to combat this thing of oppression to create a more just world?

  1. I have access to a computer and internet
  2. I have a phone or other device that allows me to stay connected with my friends and the outside world virtually
  3. I have consistent access to food
  4. I have the ability to purchase a mask or mask making kit in stores or online
  5. I do not need to rely on public transportation to travel to the grocery store, the pharmacy, to seek out medical care, or to access other essential services.
  6. I have health insurance
  7. I am not currently worried about being able to pay my rent, utility bills, or afford food for my household.
  8. I have a safe home environment to shelter in place in.
  9. I do not experience physical, verbal, emotional, or psychological abuse from someone in my household
  10. If I got sick I know those around me would take care of me and help me access the support and medical care I need
  11. I have enough money saved up to support myself for six months without an income
  12. If I needed financial support I could rely on my family or those close to me to be in a stable enough financial position to help me out
  13. I live in a community where it is safe to go on walks for leisure/ exercise
  14. I do not work in the medical field, grocery stores, pharmacies, or in any essential service that puts me at risk of getting COVID-19
  15. I am currently being paid by my employer (whether that is for working from home or for hours I would have worked if it weren’t for COVID-19).
  16. I can afford to stock up on enough groceries to feed my family/ household for a week or longer so that additional trips to the store don’t need to be made
  17. I have a home that is comfortable for me and my household to remain in for weeks at a time.
  18. I have spent most of my time sheltered in place partaking in hobbies such as arts and crafts, video games, gardening, etc.
  19. I have enough extra money to buy non-essential items for fun and entertainment purposes
  20. I can spend time outside, but not in public because I have a backyard.
  21. My routine and circumstances allow me to stay 6 feet away from people at all times, or nearly all of the time.
  22. I am not immunocompromised, elderly, or have a health condition that makes me especially vulnerable to COVID-19
  23. I am not worried about being denied medical care due to being disabled, elderly, or an otherwise vulnerable person
  24. If I got sick I am reasonably sure that I am of an age and level of health that I would recover without complications
  25. I have not had medical or mental health care appointments cancelled due to COVID19 that are essential to maintaining my physical health or emotional wellbeing
  26. I do not have a mental health problem that has been exacerbated by COVID-19
  27. I have not faced insults targeted at me related to COVID-19 due to my race
  28. I can cover my face without fearing for my safety from law enforcement
  29. If I were to go see a medical professional they and their team would likely be of the same race as I am
  30. If I were to express illness to a medical professional I am reasonably sure they would believe me and treat me
  31. I am here in the US legally, and seeking out medical care or other forms of government related support would not put me at risk of being deported
  32. I am not descended from indigenous people and I do not carry the historical trauma of my ancestors having faced colonizer brought illness
GP: Coronavirus protesters St. Paul Minnesota Groups protest against the stay at home order in Minnesota

Right now there are conservative groups across the country protesting the corona virus shutdown both virtually in online spaces and movements and in-person protests and calling to “reopen America”. In the words of Fox News host Jeanine Pirro, “They want to keep us away from churches and synagogues. They want to make sure we don’t go back to work. They don’t get it. The American spirit is too strong, and Americans are not gonna take it.” Stephen Moore, an adviser to Trump’s Covid-19 economic recovery task force and a founder of a new group lobbying for a quick re-opening of the economy, Save Our Country, even went so far as to say “We need to be the Rosa Parks here,” he said, “and protest these government injustices” (Michael). The current Coronavirus situation has caused profound fear, suffering, and panic and resulted in the loss of more than 38 thousand lives. It has also resulted in Americans being laid off in droves, a serious hit to the economy and a current unemployment rate of 14.7%, the highest unemployment rate since 1940 (Lambert). The aforementioned right wing movements are protesting these circumstances and their loss of livelihood and security. This may possibly be the first time in their lives that they are experiencing what it feels like to have systems, which are much larger than them and are callous and unfeeling, put restrictions on what they can and cannot do and negatively impact their lives and their ability to provide for themselves and their families.

“Their invisible knapsack is no longer full.”

It is evident that those who have never before faced true oppression have no idea what it feels like to actually experience it. White wing groups claim that the conditions they are experiencing are unbearable and that they cannot live like this, after only having been restricted for a month or so to protect their health and safety during a deadly pandemic. Those who have faced true oppression because of race and gender and additional oppressions face it constantly for their entire lives. It is unbearable, but they have to bear it because there is no other option. It is an overwhelming force that suffocates and takes and takes. It is exhausting, it is consuming, and it can seem to those who experience it as if it is endless and inevitable. The freedoms that white right wing groups are asking for have been denied to people of color, who have been oppressed by systems for centuries. Ironically, often those same right wing groups, who are currently protesting injustice, are the same people who have and are still denying freedoms to people of color.

Coronavirus is killing people of color at rates that are far above other demographics. In New York city, Latinos make up 34 percent of Coronavirus related deaths. A CDC study of nearly 1,500 hospitalizations across 14 states reported that black people made up a third of the hospitalizations and 42 percent of the victims, even though they make up 18 percent of the population in the areas studied (Kendi). This is not a fluke accident. History is there for us to look back on, and when we do we see that this has happened time and time again. Communities of color are consistently hit hardest in national crises.

For those who are paying attention, there is a clear pattern of death and suffering and catastrophe around people of color. This is no fluke accident, as the systems are working as they were created to. For those who have not been paying attention it may seem as though the suffering and ills marginalized people are experiencing during this Coronavirus pandemic are unexpected or surprising. They may just now see systems of oppression at play, and comment on how visible Coronavirus makes them. For those who have lived these experiences and seen these systems at work now and previously, they have seen this very scenario play out over and over again in many different ways throughout time.

“Today Coronavirus is killing marginalized populations at high rates because the systems in our society do not value or protect their lives, and the people within those systems do not seem to care to prevent black deaths.”

Black people have been used historically as test subjects for medical research due to racist beliefs that their blackness makes them less than human, and this pattern continues today.  J. Marion Sims performed gynecological experiments on enslaved women and did not provide them with pain medicine because he believed that the experimentation was not “painful enough to justify the trouble”. It was suggested by Jean-Paul Mira, the head of intensive care at a French hospital that a Coronavirus vaccine be tested in Africa. An understandable lack of trust in the healthcare thing due to historical trauma has resulted in black people being less likely to seek out healthcare. Insurance and the financial expenses of healthcare also make it incredibly difficult for many people to access the medical care they need. Historically eugenics, the selective breeding of a population to achieve more desirable characteristics has been used to commit genocide on communities of color because their lives were and still are seen as being less valuable than white lives. Today Coronavirus is killing marginalized populations at high rates because the systems in our society do not value or protect their lives, and the people within those systems do not seem to care to prevent black deaths.

“We need to create a world devoid of invisible knapsacks.”

People in marginalized groups have lived through experiences that those who are privileged enough to not experience would find to be unbearable. The experience of this Coronavirus may seem to be unbearable, but it will end. People will come out of quarantine and go back to their lives and this experience which seems like a nightmare to many will be over. Oppression will continue, because systems of oppression will continue. They will continue to exist until we as a society can clearly see them for what they are and decide that they need to end and we take the steps to undo the layers and layers of racism, sexism, classism, ableism, and all others that plague our society. This current state of existence will continue until we as a society begin to value the lives of marginalized people enough to protect them, and even more than that create a world where people of color and all marginalized people are able to experience the justice and freedom that we are all promised. We need to create a world devoid of invisible knapsacks.

References

Kendi, Ibram X. “Stop Blaming Black People for Dying of the Coronavirus.” The Atlantic, Atlantic Media Company, 14 Apr. 2020.

Lambert, Lance. “Real Unemployment in the United States Has Hit 14.7%, the Highest Level since 1940.” Fortune, Fortune, 9 Apr. 2020.

McIntosh, Peggy. “White privilege: Unpacking the invisible knapsack.” (1988).

Michael. “Trump Fans Protest Against Governors Who Have Imposed Virus Restrictions.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 17 Apr. 2020, www.nytimes.com/2020/04/17/us/politics/trump-coronavirus-governors.html.

Covid-19 – A Thief

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Written by Grace Eberhardt (originally published on The Public blog page)

I was in the San Diego airport when I heard the news. Not the news that school would be virtual for the rest of Spring Semester, nor the news of my class of 2020 graduation being held virtually, but the news that the History of Eugenics Symposium was canceled. I couldn’t help but wail, tears profusely streamed down my cheeks as I struggled to take a breath. Covid-19 took something special from me, and that was only the beginning.

“Professors emailed me for their condolences, friends reached-out to me, and every time I re-read the news of the Symposium’s cancellation, I cried even more.”  

My University inbox was flooded with the word “CANCELED.” I must have read that the symposium was canceled from 5 different sources. Professor Johnson, who was heading the symposium, an official email to all those who registered to the symposium, the biology bulletin email, and the bioethics email-chain. Professors emailed me for their condolences, friends reached-out to me, and every time I re-read the news of the Symposium’s cancellation, I cried even more. I had already felt discouraged about the re-naming of the Slater Museum because of a campus-wide email that was sent in February about a naming Committee; six months after a co-signed email was sent, which suggested to President Crawford that we needed this Committee. This email I received in February gave no recognition to those who came forth with the idea, and, it read: “the Committee will not be asked to examine any specific named building” when in fact, the Symposium was here to confront a specific building name and the Committee was only created because of the questioning of the ethics of this specific building name: the Slater Museum of Natural History. Although the creation of this Committee was progress, it still felt as though it was moving “with all deliberate speed.”

“But nonetheless, the Covid-19 World Pandemic had finally affected a nation that tries so hard to distance themselves from the rest of the world–talk about social distancing.”
Timeline at the Slater Natural History Museum Without Mention of Eugenics (Photo Credit: Grace Eberhardt)

Once we came back from an “extended” Spring break, slowly but surely, our questions were answered. Yes, school would continue remotely for the rest of the school year, yes, graduation would be held virtually, yes, your meal plan can be re-funded, yes, credit-no-credit options are available for classes, yes, in-person graduation would be held in 2021, and no, there are no intentions of holding the class of 20 and class of 21 ceremonies separately. Not all the answers to these questions were what we wanted to hear, especially us, the class of 2020. But nonetheless, the Covid-19 World Pandemic had finally affected a nation that tries so hard to distance themselves from the rest of the world–talk about social distancing. The United States has finally been forced to confront the realities the rest of the world has faced, and luckily, we were able to learn from actions that the rest of the world had already taken. We saw our future in nations who were affected first, and our future seemed grim.

Covid-19 has taken over much of my life, much of our lives. I sometimes wake up with my heart racing, practically being ripped out my chest as I try to collect myself. The hard reality that I would be completing my African American Studies Thesis virtually, the zoo study we were conducting in my Animal Behavior course was cut short when Point Defiance Zoo closed, and my work that had revolved around the naming of the Slater museum would come to a halt. But alas, we as people are strong and these enormously privileged tragedies I face are no comparison to the sharp peaks displayed on the news as we see Covid-19 surge nation-wide.
“As the era of the World Pandemic continues to linger, so does our will to conquer these small-scale hardships.”

As a graduating senior heavily involved in the History of Eugenics Symposium, an African American Studies and Biology double-major who was hoping to leave a mark in how our University confronts our ugly past, and as a biology student of Color who was hoping to increase awareness of scientific maladies and in turn, provide a more welcoming environment to those who historically and presently endure racial inequalities in the sciences, Covid-19 seemed to take this all away. I am not trying to say that I would have solved all these problems in one 20 minute presentation, but rather, I was hoping the symposium would publicize these issues and spark conversation amongst the greater Puget Sound Community. That being said, in case you were wondering, yes, the Symposium will be turned into a permanent website with talks embedded in the site with the hopes of reaching even more people, conducting public scholarship ourselves. Although this virtual alternative may or may not have the same impact as the in-person Symposium, what else can we do? As the era of the World Pandemic continues to linger, so does our will to conquer these small-scale hardships.

Picture of the Hallways Outside of The Slater Natural History Museum at The University of Puget Sound (Photo Credit: Grace Eberhardt)

Grace Maria Eberhardt is a senior at the University of Puget Sound earning her Bachelors of Science in Biology and African American studies with an emphasis in bioethics. Her last year at the University of Puget Sound has proven to be integral in her approach to intertwining her two majors: Biology and African American Studies. Grace completed her 2019 summer research on the Slater Museum of Natural History: The History and Ethics of a Name, in which she asks if the name of the natural history museum on campus should be changed since Professor Slater taught eugenics well after the end of WWII. During the 2019-2020 winter break, Grace traveled with African American Studies course African Diaspora International Experience to Ghana for 3-weeks. This life-changing trip helped Grace better navigate her own racial identity and when she returned to the States, she was prompted to seek community in the sciences by regularly attending Visible Spectrum Meetings, an identity-based club for STEM students of Color.