Aika Minja ’27

Beyond Dialogue: When Will Lake Forest College Take Responsibility?

During Black History Month this year, which coincided with Martin Luther King Jr. Remembrance Week, Dawn Abt-Perkins, a tenured professor of education who specializes in “multicultural education,” used the N-word in a classroom discussion about observing classroom interactions and the use of slurs, but no other slurs for any other marginalized groups were used as examples. While the discussion may have been intended to examine language and its impact, the incident raises a simple question: was the use of the slur necessary? I would argue it was not.

President Mike Sosulski responded with a campus-wide email describing the incident as “both morally repugnant and wholly inconsistent with our values as an institution.” His response, although coming relatively quickly and sounding sincere, also made me think about a larger question: how consistently have those institutional values been reflected regarding the experiences of Black students at Lake Forest College?

As someone who has worked in the college archives for more than a year, I have spent time engaging with the institution’s history. Through the important work of Dr. Courtney Joseph, a tenured professor of history and both a professor and chair of African American studies, over the years, we have found opportunities to examine Lake Forest’s relationship with race and its evolving institutional identity. This experience has made me question the distance between how institutions describe themselves and how students experience them.

On March 17, Lake Forest College held a Community Conversations event where Black students raised concerns directly with administrators, including President Mike Sosulski, Provost Tara Natarajan, President of Enrollment Chris Ellertson, Dean of Students Tony Tyler, former Interim Director of C.A.R.E. Kim Davis and Vice President of Communications and Marketing Jackie Hoefler. Students discussed issues including Black faculty representation, admissions, marketing, campus safety, and the experiences of Black international students.

The event was an opportunity for students to speak, but it also brought forward a question that extends beyond that particular meeting: Why are Black students repeatedly required to explain their needs to the people whose professional responsibilities include creating a supportive and safe educational environment?

One concern raised during the conversation was Black student enrollment and how that enrollment is represented by the college. Lake Forest College frequently highlights that approximately 38 to 40% of its students identify as students of color. However, that broader statistic can obscure the specific experiences and representation of Black students.

According to fall 2025 consumer information, approximately 2.9% of the specified undergraduate population identified as Black or African American. Historical records also provide context: Black students represented 7.2% of the student body in 1979-1980 and 4.3% in 1984-1985. These figures require careful comparison because student populations and reporting methods may differ, but they raise questions about how Black enrollment has changed over time.

This disparity becomes particularly noticeable when looking at the way Black students are represented in the college’s marketing. Students raised the concern that Black students appear frequently throughout photographs on the college website and promotional materials. It is common to see one or more Black students included in photographs used to represent campus life, giving the visual impression that Black students make up a much larger proportion of the student body than the enrollment numbers suggest.

The issue is not that Black students should not be represented in college marketing. Of course they should. The problem is the disconnect between representation in the promotional image and representation in the actual student population. If someone unfamiliar with Lake Forest College looked through the college’s website, they could reasonably come away with a different impression of the campus’ racial makeup than what the enrollment data reflects.

Marketing is not separate from institutional identity. The images an institution uses communicate who belongs there, who is visible, and what prospective students can expect campus life to look like. If Black students are repeatedly featured as symbols of diversity while Black enrollment remains a small percentage of the student body, then students have a right to question whether the marketing reflects the reality they will encounter after arriving on campus.

Lake Forest College is located approximately 30 miles or 40 minutes from Chicago, a city with a significant Black population and a long history of Black educational, cultural, and political contributions. That proximity makes it worth asking how the college approaches the recruitment, admission, and retention of Black students.

Representation should not only exist in the photograph. It should exist in the numbers, the classroom, the faculty, the curriculum, and the everyday experience of being a Black student at Lake Forest College.

That raises important questions: Who is the college marketing to, what picture of the institution is it presenting and is it truly representative of the actual institution?

Another concern is the representation of Black faculty across academic disciplines. While the college has faculty members whose work contributes to African American studies, questions remain about whether Black students see themselves represented throughout the broader institution.

As one alum expressed, having the majority of Black faculty concentrated in African American studies, with others in fields such as economics and education, and no Black faculty members in certain natural sciences can send a message about what students believe is possible for themselves. 

“As a neuroscience major, ever since I arrived at Lake Forest College in 2022 and entered the Lillard building, until right now, I have never seen a teacher that looks like me in that building,” the alum said. “This sends a direct message [about] what the school thinks is possible for someone [who] looks like me.”

Representation is not simply about numbers. It shapes belonging, aspiration, and how students imagine their futures. A liberal arts education should encourage students to explore different disciplines without feeling that certain academic spaces are less accessible to them.

During the March 17 conversation, students raised questions about campus safety communications. In particular, concerns were expressed about an email sent by Tyler on Sept. 11 about a “processing space” being created for students following the death of Charlie Kirk. Students questioned why comparable communication had not been sent in response to reports of Black students being hanged at college campuses around the same period.

These concerns deserve a direct response. Students should not have to wonder whether their safety and grief are being acknowledged consistently. The question is whether the institution has clear standards for communicating about violence, threats and student safety.

Black international students also expressed dissatisfaction with changes to break housing arrangements, including concerns about insufficient advance communication. For international students who may not have local support systems or the ability to return home during academic breaks, housing directly affects their security and ability to plan.

Black students have consistently raised concerns about representation, respect in the classroom, and their experiences at the college. Yet the response often seems to return to dialogue.

There is value in listening to students. However, when the same concerns continue to emerge across conversations over decades, listening alone becomes insufficient.

When I attend a class, I do not expect my professor to walk in and ask, “What should I teach you today?” Professors are trained professionals who are expected to understand their responsibilities and prepare to meet the needs of their students. In a similar way, college administrators have professional experience and institutional authority that should allow them to identify and address recurring challenges.

This does not mean administrators should assume they know everything about students’ experiences. Student voices are essential. However, there is a difference between consulting students to improve existing plans and repeatedly asking students to identify solutions to problems they have already brought forward.

At the conversation’s conclusion, President Sosulski acknowledged that institutional change would take time and that he did not have a singular or definitive answer to every concern raised. I understand that meaningful change is complicated and cannot happen overnight. However, Black students have already constantly articulated many of their concerns. They have spoken about racial slurs, faculty representation, admissions, classroom experiences, student safety, and the treatment of Black students and faculty repeatedly throughout the years.

The question is not whether students should be given opportunities to speak. It is whether those conversations are producing measurable changes.

What plans are being developed? What timelines exist? Who is responsible for implementing them? How will students know whether their concerns have been addressed?

My work in the archives has taught me that institutions are shaped by the decisions they make and the records they leave behind. Preserving history is not enough if we refuse to learn from it.

Black students should not have to constantly explain why respect, representation, and safety matter. They should not have to carry the responsibility of teaching administrators how to respond to problems that fall within their professional responsibilities.

When does the responsibility shift from asking Black students what they need to demonstrating that Lake Forest College is prepared to meet those needs?