The State of UC blog was started in 2016 as a project to feature the writing of UC students, alumni, and coalition partners on issues concerning higher education and the student experience. To write for The State of UC, contact us with your pitch. Submissions should be 500-1500 words.
The Berkeley Experience: Of a Black, Female, Transfer Student Majoring in Economics
December 6, 2017 | By Nishan Jones | UC Berkeley
I recently joined an Economics Club at Cal and I felt completely different as a member compared to being in a similar club at my community college. I went to Chabot College in Hayward and there were all types of people in the club. Everyone seemed to have a mutual understanding and we related to one another- we all love Economics, we all have unique stories and we’re excited to collectively make the club successful. I thought the same feeling would translate to my experience in an Economics Club at Berkeley. I was wrong. The vibe was entirely different. I immediately felt older and detached from the people around me. I am a Black female transfer student, who worked and was involved on campus while commuting around 3 hours each day to and from school. I wasn’t sure if anyone could relate to these experiences or understand a life without an abundance of privilege.
Community college students often have multiple responsibilities besides being a student, whether it’s working multiple jobs to support their family or simply working to support themselves each day. Usually students who enter Cal right after high school, move from one sheltered environment to another. According to a report done by the UC Berkeley Office of Planning and Analysis of Fall 2016 transfer and freshman admits, 49% of freshman come from household incomes of more than $125,000 or more. On the contrary, 51% of transfers come from household incomes of $50,000 or less. This data strongly suggests that on average, transfer students come from slightly harsher financial environments which often means they must take on that burden along with their studies. Existing as a transfer student is to navigate constant streams of adversity and prejudice, especially for underrepresented students.. So as I sat with a group of UC Berkeley undergraduates, listening to all the familiar club introductions, I could not help but feel the privilege in the room. Being one of two people Black people in the room only perpetuated the feeling that the color of my skin and the life I had lived separated me from everyone in that room.
Everyone who I spoke with seemed so comfortable with what they know, which are the invisible stereotypes that build walls around specific fields of study. In this case, no one questioned the image of a White, Asian or Indian person with career aspirations in Finance. I keep wondering why? Why do I feel as if I need to be majoring in Ethnic Studies or African American studies to feel like I belong? I don’t want to do either of those majors. I have my mindset on Economics yet why do I feel as if I shouldn’t be in any Economics spaces. I know that people in Ethnic Studies and African American studies departments understand racism.They study, dissect, and analyze it. Why are the minds that develop the crucial understanding of racial injustices flourish so far away from most of the worlds in Berkeley?
Because there has been this separation for so long, people within majors that are not Ethnic Studies or African American Studies develop a certain image of others, usually people of color, who have managed to enter into their spaces. I am not saying that we have to talk about race issues in a Physics class instead of solving physics problems. What I am asking is that why is there such a lack of representation within higher education to the point where I feel as if I shouldn’t be a part of a discipline I enjoy. I believe that if there was increased representation within a Physics class or Computer Science class for example, these racial inequities would begin to break down. These needed conversations about confronting and solving social, economic, and racial injustices would happen on their own and gradually reconstruct the campus environment into an inclusive space.
“What I am asking is that why is there such a lack of representation within higher education to the point where I feel as if I shouldn’t be a part of a discipline I enjoy.”
I understand the power of being with people who have been through similar struggles, who you can relate to, and are of the same race. There is unity within those environments but how does that fight any of the problems that are present in society when no one else, except your racial group, is exposed to them. We are only re-segregating ourselves and hardly working to deconstruct the racial divides that have been built up for centuries. I do believe that providing a space for minority groups is essential as much of the world still doesn’t accept people of different identities, races and backgrounds and there are not enough safe spaces. We need to also centralize efforts in integrating people into different environments, sharing the knowledge and experiences of underrepresented students so everyone can understand and be cooperative towards one another. I know it is naive to think of a world where everyone is mingling and everyone understands, affirms and recognizes the struggles of the next group. It is really naive. But, I hope that can change.
I guess for now Berkeley will be ‘diverse’. ‘Diverse’ but divided. One pocket of people will be in one corner and another pocket of people in another corner. Occasionally, somebody will attempt to move into another corner but has to slowly make their way back to where they came from.
The Struggle to Find Housing as a Transfer Student
Nov 15, 2017 | By Valeria Moran | UC Berkeley
Two years ago I started studying at Imperial Valley College with one goal in mind: transfer to UC Berkeley. Even though I knew that the odds were against me with only 24% acceptance rate as a transfer, there was nothing more I wanted. I beat the odds.
Like many transfer students here at UC Berkeley, I’ve overcome multiple obstacles. I feel that I’ve learned and grown stronger over the years and although I might sometimes doubt myself, UC Berkeley is the place for me. What I didn’t expect however was how many more obstacles I would encounter once I transferred to UCB.
First thing I didn’t expect was to be almost homeless. With Berkeley being my dream school, I couldn’t help but have a romanticized idea of campus and the Bay Area. I knew the housing situation was bad, but I never thought it would affect me. My admission letter was like my golden ticket, that mesmerized me enough to forget the logistics of finances and housing. I expected Berkeley to provide guaranteed housing for their Transfer students, like other schools do, but no. I decided to desperately seek for off-campus housing going to Berkeley’s own trusted Cal Rentals. The prices for rent seemed ridiculous. 1,800 a month? In what world could I ever afford that?
I was lucky to have found a place to stay, however I didn’t stay there for long. I thought I was going to share a triple with two other girls, but instead my landlord made me live in a kitchen. He turned a one person studio into a triple, and while my other roommates shared the bedroom, I was left to sleep on a sectioned off kitchenette with no stove or a real bed. I slept on a hospital gurney with no mattress. The place was not like the pictures at all. The building housed over 20 people; a man even chose to live in a tent in the backyard. It was quickly dilapidating, full of mold, and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. To make matters worse, I was supposed to clean out my “room” space because the landlord had previously used it as storage room. It was $500 per month, wifi and utilities included, 20 minutes from campus and right next Trader Joe’s. How could I refuse such a bargain? But after two weeks, as much as it pained me to leave my roommate, who was the only other girl that had transferred from my community college, I decided to leave.
Thanks to a Facebook post, I managed to find a room nicer than any room I’ve ever lived in, with my own bed and mattress, desk and closet. Let me remind you that all of this happened during my first weeks of orientation at Berkeley. I couldn’t enjoy the welcoming events because I was miserable living in horrible conditions. My unfortunate housing horror story is that of many students, especially transfer students. It just goes to show how UC Berkeley fails at fulfilling their promise of student inclusion and their commitment of helping their minority population of transfer students access sustainable living conditions.
This year, UC Berkeley and UCLA have been jostling for the top spot in rankings of public universities. I would rank UC Berkeley down a few pegs for not guaranteeing transfer housing unlike their rival public university, UCLA. In fact when factoring my decision to come to Cal I was tempted to choose UCLA or UCSD because they not only offered a great financial aid package, but guaranteed housing as well. In the end I decided that I would take a gamble and follow my dream. I know now that the housing inequality is a big problem in itself all across the Bay. According to the San Francisco Chronicle, ”Alameda County’s biennial homeless count showed a staggering 39 percent increase from 2015 in the number of unhoused people — 5,629 people. In Oakland, the increase was 25 percent.” These numbers are depressing, which is the reason I sympathize with the homeless who sleep outside my street.
However not all hope is lost. Through new transfer inclusion initiatives, UC Berkeley has made a commitment to ensure housing. The sixth floor of Maximino Martinez Commons is now exclusively reserved to house transfers, including a transfer specialist RA. There are various co-op housing opportunities that accept applications for first generation and low income minority students like myself. Rochdale Village is well known and offers a very affordable housing deal with rent costs as low as 250 dollars. It is 1 of the 17 houses the Berkeley Student Cooperative runs. Casa Joaquin Murrieta is an independent non profit organization who has a long history since the 1970’s to house predominantly Chicano students. They do not only offer affordable housing but include a leadership enriched experience with workshops for students to polish their professional skills. They also provide basic food supplies.
Looking back to the period between my admission letter and the start of school, I mainly focused on fundraising my expected cost of attendance. I prayed the odds would be on my favor and I would be lucky enough to win the lottery and obtain a spot on campus. Once I was denied on-campus housing, I got lost looking through the many housing listings on CalRental but not once knew the existence of these various affordable housing opportunities. Unlike freshmen admits, I feel UC Berkeley does not prioritize outreach to transfer students. While freshmen students have an open invitation to Cal Day in April, transfer students suffer in the uncertainty of admission limbo, anxiously waiting for that email carrying the news whether we were admitted or not. Having to get our admissions much later than other students is also a factor into our late start in looking for housing.
It is not secret that while UC Berkeley aims to accept more transfer students, it has not increased their budget to facilitate the resources this demographic specifically needs. One look at the small underfunded Transfer Center and it is clear to me transfer students are an afterthought. While I am critical of my campus I am also hopeful by knowing that this year there are 3 out of 20 transfer student senators in the ASUC. In past years, there were no transfer leaders. These students have been my direct access to resource information this semester, proving their commitment to the transfer community by advocating for us and extending their outreach. They are an example that although transfers have less time here than freshmen, they have the opportunity to make a difference. I am hopeful that our collective advocacy as transfer students can make UC Berkeley understand our journey and move quickly to better address the challenges we face.
Time to Breathe Life Back into California’s Master Plan
Oct 4, 2017 | By Kelly Morris | UC San Diego
California started out the 1960s with a pioneering project: a comprehensive, inclusive system of public higher education to fit all Californian’s needs, from community college to graduate research institutions. Today, California’s Master Plan for education has been suffering from neglect by the state budget and lack of adaptation to the changing role of higher education in today’s economy.
This neglect could be our downfall. California will, by 2030, be unable to meet our economy’s demand for college-educated workers. An excess of unskilled laborers will drive up unemployment for those workers and shrink earnings, slowing economic growth and increasing the strain on California’s welfare programs as residents unable to earn enough income seek support from the state.
Our higher education system has decayed since the 1970s. Prop 13 limited funds available for education, and various cuts have led to a decrease in per-student spending of 40% since 1990. The University of California is struggling to afford pensions, basic campus maintenance, and expansion to meet enrollment goals. And while the vast majority of Californians are receptive of providing more funding for higher education, our legislators have delayed seriously looking at the problems in our higher education system.
Instead, more hot-button topics such as welfare and healthcare– i.e, government support programs– have taken a front seat. But education can reduce the costs of government spending on entitlement programs for years. It can decrease unemployment, reduce the use of H2B visas, increase earnings and income tax revenue, and even reduce the costs of our law enforcement and healthcare programs. The Master Plan wasn’t called “Master” for nothing.
The Public Policy Institute of California has estimated that California will be short 1.1 million bachelor degree-holders by 2030. For an economy increasingly surrounding Information technology, healthcare, and engineering, this is worrying. Many companies, anxious about our current federal administration’s new policies limiting H1B visas, argued that they need these visas to “import” skilled labor as they cannot fill open positions with local workers. Simply not enough Californians have the skills needed to fill the most widely available jobs. This skill gap will slow California’s economic growth and leave millions of Californians in economic limbo and unable to work in their home state.
A less educated California is a poorer California. More degree holders means higher earnings and more tax revenue to fund state and local programs. Californians, unable to find jobs with their qualifications and also unable to afford higher education to change that fact, will leave the state for greener pastures and the Golden State will suffer. For those who cannot make a living, the state will have to support them through already strained welfare programs. Healthcare and retirement programs will explode in cost. Each bachelor’s degree holder on average will receive $82,000 less in government services and pay $273,000 more in taxes than a high school graduate. Reliable and accessible public education needs to be supported in order to ensure the health of California’s growing skilled-labor based economy.
California, like the nation as a whole, is changing demographically in addition to economically. The fastest-growing demographic in California are latino/as, the group least likely to have obtained a college degree. With diversity increasing (by 2030, 70% of California youth will be Latinx, Black, Asian, or Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander), it is important that education is accessible across all races and backgrounds.Overall, only 33% of Californian adults have a bachelor’s degree. Some argue that too many young people attend college when they do not need to, and that emphasis should be placed on trade schools and on-the-job training. The labor shortage isn’t limited to STEM careers. The construction industries and trades like plumbing and electrical work are also struggling to find young employees. There is some truth in the line of thought that a bachelor’s degree isn’t for everyone (thus the Master Plan’s community college system). However, California’s educational infrastructure leads students who want a technical career towards predatory for-profit colleges. Students leave with massive amounts of debt and a degree/certificate from a non-accredited institution, leaving employers unimpressed with credentials. For-profit schools are responsible for the majority of student debt as well. Community colleges– an integral part of California’s master plan– need support to meet the need of more technical training.
The myth that students at four-year colleges choose to study “useless” majors must be dispelled– a PPIC study of 2,015 freshman showed that 85% and 78% respectively place access to better jobs and to get “training for a specific career” as the most important reasons to attend college. New studies show that most students choose study fields more likely to get them jobs, like business and health fields.
The growing costs of attending a four-year institution are often the deciding factor is attendance. With costs so high, many opt to attend community colleges (to hopefully transfer), or take on tens of thousands of dollars in loans to fund their education. Room in California’s state budget has shrunk for public higher education. In 1990, 78% of per-student spending came from the state, now that number is 38%. In addition, the already sparse funding has not yet recovered from 2008 Great Recession-era cuts. Institutions are increasingly relying on tuition and student fees to stay afloat. With increasing need for college-educated workers, the financial barriers to education need to come down.
Pouring money into financial aid just increases loan debt and fails to provide money for non-instructional costs of running a university. Campus maintenance, construction, and benefits for employees are also being neglected. To ensure that California’s higher education keeps its world-class quality, the state NEEDS to support these institutions now.
Proposition 13, a popular tax law passed in 1978, helps longtime homeowners stay in their homes as property taxes soar. But Prop 13 also did two other things: it made it harder for local communities to raise their own taxes, and it allowed commercial property to also benefit from property tax caps.
Commercial reform of Prop 13 would raise billions for public education. Since Prop 13 forbids property tax increases of greater than 2% until the property is resold, corporations like Disney who own huge lots of land still pay 1978-era taxes on their modern-day property. Without the incentive to resell commercial property, new up-and-coming small business struggle to afford the taxes on new, reassessed property while their neighbors pay a fraction.
It’s important to uphold the sections of Prop 13 that protect homeowners, especially in an era where housing is as scarce and expensive as ever. But loopholes in the Proposition allow for big corporations to slide by without paying their fair share in property tax.
Prop 13 passed with 65% of the vote in 1978. Today, 77% of Californians want more support for higher education. Commercial Prop 13 reform will mean California higher education will continue to be respected across the country and world. It means UC will continue to produce medical discoveries, scientific studies, and patents by the hundreds. It means support for expanding in-demand programs like computer science and engineering. It means more educated Californians, a healthy economy, and a better future for all Californians.
Kelly Morris is a sophomore at UC San Diego and served as the University Affairs intern for UCSA over the summer 2017.
Open Letter to the Secretary of Education
Aug 1, 2017 | By Ida Acevedo | UC Riverside
They say that hard work pays off, and for you, Betsy DeVos, that is quite the opposite. You’ve been sworn in as the Secretary of Education, recommended by Trump himself. How? Well, let’s look at how you got here today.
You didn’t have a lot of troubles growing up. I mean, your father is a billionaire industrialist, and you’re married to the CEO of Amway, Richard DeVos, a multimillionaire averaging as the 60th richest person in the United States at 5.1 billion dollars. But you say money has nothing to do with your position? Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with living comfortably, except, where does education fit in here?
You went to a Holland Christian school and a Calvin College, both private institutions, and you were able to send all four of your kids to the same private school and pay for their college tuition out of pocket. But did you know that only 9% of American students make up the private school system? It’s difficult to show your support and be a representative for the other 91% of students in public schools when you have no experience with them. It’s also hard to believe that you support public schools when you’ve supported charter schools and privatization. I’m sure you know that they actually defund local public schools because their money goes towards charters.
Keep in mind that you and your kids never had to apply for and take out a loan. For many students like myself, we can’t relate. You have now been given charge of a 1 trillion-dollar loan program, as well as the distribution of 30 billion dollars in Pell Grants to students, which you have proposed to cut in half. Low-income students like myself are going to lose out on those 15 billion dollars because you deem them unnecessary. For students like myself who had to take out student loans, don’t you think you should cut us some slack? You’ve lived a life of privilege. The average college graduate finds a job 3-9 months after graduation. Currently, students are given 6 months after they graduate to find a job before interest builds on their loans. Knowing how well you love money, here’s to hoping you won’t keep it to yourself.
It’s been a tough road for you to be sworn in as Secretary of Education. You had a 50-51 vote in your confirmation, which on the grading scale is an F. 50% of Congress didn’t want you as a Secretary of Education because of your lack of experience, and the other 50% voted for you because you’ve contributed over 200 million dollars to the Republican party and senators. But I’m sure you’ll have no problem working with your new boss. You both have a lot in common. You’re both white, wealthy, and have no idea what the fuck you’re doing.
Just remember: there’s 56 million students, and their families are counting on you to not screw up their futures. However, with the education proposals you present to Senate, you show that you obviously don’t give a shit for students like me to finish our education, much less pay for it. How can you live your life and continue working in a highly-respected position knowing you will be the sole reason millions of Americans will no longer be able to afford attending college?
Becoming the Secretary of Education, the children of American expect you to be the voice and mind of our need for education. Yet, each day you prove only to do the opposite. I leave you with this word of advice: don’t fuck it up for us more than you already have.
Ida is a first year Political Science/Public Service Major at UC Riverside. When she’s not hitting the books, she spends most of her time lifeguarding, working summer leadership camps, or going on adventures with her 4 roommates. Her goal is to work in local government helping low income and minority communities in addition to meeting her idol, former VP Joe Biden.
Thoughts from Traveling
Apr 28, 2017 | By Nina Djukic | UC Berkeley
It’s mid-September and I am running on a road in rural Costa Rica, the humidity so heavy in the air that I am barely moving. The road is unpaved and stuffed with stones from volcano flows that left this here years and years ago. Behind me rides a troop of little boys on bicycles and scruffy brown puppies chase each other chasing motorcycles, five of them in a row. One boy calls in accented English, “I love you!! Nice to meet you!!”.
It has been raining all afternoon and I have a plastic bag in my pocket to save my phone from when it starts again. The hillsides are littered with black-and-white cows and skinny, potbellied horses. One night at dusk walking home from swimming the road was filled with a running bull, escaping from its master who yelled insults from the back of his motorcycle. There are caimanes in the lake at night but I swim anyway, out into the center of that blue bowl ringed with hills, past the pilings in the black mud that are actually trees that drowned here when they dammed the river. Most afternoons there are thunderstorms and sometimes the lightning starts before I can get out. I risk it anyway.
It is early October and I am traveling in Nicaragua, walking on a footpath through the jungle because roads are impractical so we take boats. The lanchas are packed with children, burlap sacks, and palettes of food. The air is filled with the smell of gasoline and the rush of fish-smelling water. When someone wants to get off we just stop the boat on the bank, and the trails they take look like they go nowhere, winding right into the bright green jungle. There’s a girl my age kissing her boyfriend over her baggage on the riverbank, and a grandmother comes on board to take a baby from the boat. The parents clasp each other’s arms and smile. I watch one man get off on a dock where nine men are sitting, and he stands in the middle of the circle and shakes each one’s hand, one by one.
In this little town along the river I walk the concrete trails paved over and over by the same feet, past the ramshackle houses on stilts with huge pigs sleeping under them and the chickens running underfoot the donkeys. A flock of lively acid green parakeets swoops joyfully overhead in a flurry of feathers and noise.
In Costa Rica, they say that every town has three things: a church, a pulperia, and a soccer field. Here, an old Spanish fortress hangs broken over the brightly colored roofs of the living, tin patched with plastic. There are kids playing in the muddy river and peach hibiscus flowers blooming over the old stones.
When I crossed the border from Costa Rica into Nicaragua I crossed on foot, hopping off the chicken bus to walk with all the others. There’s a customs building for each nation. You have to get stamped in one to move on to the other, but most who cross here go illegally. At the stamping booth, a woman asked me to help her fill her form out while another looked over my shoulder to see which boxes I checked. For some of these people, who live on the rural outsides of these country’s arbitrary borders, the messy scrawl of their name in the signature section of their passport is the only time they have written their own name in years. On the other side of the border, no different but in name, we sit on the hot asphalt and wait for the van that will take us to San Carlos, a small town 30 minutes away. Nine out of ten of us waiting crossed illegally, and I watched them climb into the van in a mass of dark hair and suitcases, trudging between shrubs into the endless dusty sun.
When I come back again to cross this border, just after sunrise on another morning, twenty are already walking to where there’s a border – in places barbed wire fence, in places the Rio San Juan, in places imaginary. They are walking to a place called Costa Rica, where 6km from the border the coffee is three times as expensive, and the pay is better, and the government saved 25% of the land for national parks. On the way back to San Jose I’m crammed against the window with another woman, headed south. We sit here on this bus together, this woman and I, but I crossed the line with a blue foldered document and she slipped beneath the fence like a shadow. Underneath all those concepts and economies and laws, she hoisted her bag onto her back and walked.
I am thinking: how much of traveling is just being good at waiting?
Nina Djukic is a third year Conservation & Resource studies major at UC Berkeley. She spends most of her time reading, eating chocolate, volunteering at clinics, and making tremendously bad puns. She hopes to be a doctor and worthwhile citizen of the world.
