“To ensure that our community embraces and supports individuals from all racial, ethnic, religious, gender, sexual orientation, class, disability, and nationality groups in their chosen pursuits.”

— A Cornell Diversity Goal

As Cornell students, we feel that the University must boost its efforts to support Asian and Asian American students, henceforth collectively called “Asian” due to limited space.

“We honor [our] legacy of diversity and inclusion and welcome all individuals, including those from groups that historically have been marginalized and previously excluded from equal access to opportunity.”

— Cornell’s Statement on Diversity

The words diversity, inclusion and multiculturalism are often used interchangeably. But what do these words really mean to our University community and how are they applied on our campus? Diversity and multiculturalism imply the inclusion of all cultures and all identities. When we talk about inclusion, we often focus on the minorities whose needs and struggles are not adequately addressed by the majority. Historically, “minority” in the United States has been synonymous with people of color.

Thomas Jefferson, one of my personal heroes — and one hell of a legislator — once said, “Power is not alluring to pure minds.” If Jefferson were to sit in on some of the backdoor politicking currently going on in the Student Assembly, he would think that our minds are as dirty as a New Jersey sewer. Thus, when I evaluate the actions of the S.A., I like to follow the logic of a different politician: the ancient Roman judge, Lucius Cassius, who would repeatedly ask himself, “Cui bono?” which literally means “To whose benefit?”

White privilege. Despite my pale, freckled, Irish and Swedish skin (trust me, it doesn’t get much paler than this), it’s not something I really think about on a regular basis.

At least until I go home to Massachusetts. My aunt, whose skin is just as pale and freckled as mine, is a professor at Tufts, teaching classes such as “African American History since 1865” and “Class, Race and Gender in the History of U.S. Education.” She dedicated her education and career to learning about the events that have created white privilege (she acknowledges, ironically, that she occupies a position of privilege as a professor at a majority-white university).

So every time I come home, I am reminded — reprimanded, almost — of the white privilege that my life has been steeped in. My family not only acknowledges our white privilege, but constantly points it out to each other so that we do not take our opportunities for granted.

Today, thousands of student activists from around the country are cheering loudly — and for good reason.

A nation-wide alliance, the United Students Against Sweatshops, drove a persistent group of protesters to fight for the rights of sweatshop laborers who had been stripped of their jobs at a Russell Athletic factory after workers tried to unionize.

News broke last week that the U.S. government had moved to seize four U.S. mosques and a skyscraper on Fifth Avenue, which are owned by an Iranian Muslim non-profit organization. The Alavi Foundation, the non-profit organization in question, provides many extremely important services to the Shiite Muslim community in America. Because of this, the Alavi Foundation has a lot of influence in this community.

My circuitous path to Cornell included two-year stops at the U.S. Naval Academy and the Island of Borneo, where I served as a Mormon missionary. My cocktail hour inquisitors often focus their questions on the discipline and adventure of that period in my life. They want to explore the differences between Cornell and life in uniform — military or priestly. What was basic training like? How about the guns? Did you meet a headhunter? (In order: awful, awesome and I think so, but Borneo is the same as America in at least one way … you don’t just ask a guy if he’s a killer.)

After a grueling and torturous year of starving at Cornell, all I wanted was to go home and eat my mother’s delicious cooking for an entire summer. I wanted to walk through the kitchen on a sunny afternoon and let the tantalizing aroma envelope my body and soul. My lips would begin to quiver as I bring the food closer to my mouth. My taste buds would tingle and a glistening tear would fall down my cheek as I slowly chewed, savoring every moment, every second, thanking God that I lived to experience this once more.

While many have hailed the passage of health care reform in the House (H.R. 3692), much anger remains after the passage of a last-minute amendment, the Stupak Amendment. Pushed for heavily by Catholic bishops, this amendment greatly restricts the use of federal funding for abortion.

While one obviously does not have to be Catholic or even religious to oppose abortion, Catholics, other Christians (including this Lutheran) and many other religious people were concerned that they may end up funding abortions with their taxes in flagrant contradiction of their religious beliefs.