I almost cried after reading a recent article about how universities are canceling bridge programs that help first-generation students prepare for college. The story noted that schools are afraid such programs might put them in the crosshairs of the authoritarians in Washington, D.C., intent on destroying anything associated with diversity.
I’ve taught in bridge programs and have been inspired by the students who are eager to learn and give back to their communities. Such programs are a leg up, not a handout. And very few people, including Republicans, want to see them gone — even those who profess little love for diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts.
A new Associated Press-NORC poll found that while 60 percent of Republicans are against DEI programs, most support many of their typical components. That includes scholarships, clubs, and mentorships for underrepresented students, which are favored by 70 percent of Republicans. A slim majority even support learning about the barriers that make it harder for minorities to succeed, including teaching courses about racism.
DEI as a category clearly has a branding problem, as I’ve discussed in other columns. That problem boils down to a tendency among its adherents to lift up DEI’s least popular elements, such as dividing the world into categories like privileged and marginalized or insisting that diversity training participants confess to being unwitting supporters of white supremacy.
But take away the DEI branding, and Americans overwhelmingly appreciate and support our nation’s diversity. Perhaps the greatest testament to that support is pop culture. Among the most recent examples: Beyonce’s country themed Cowboy Carter won the Grammy for Album of the Year, and the tour is getting rave reviews. Director Ryan Coogler’s brilliant blues/vampire film Sinners is one of the highest grossing horror movies of all time.
Excellent pop culture guides the public’s taste when it comes to diversity rather than simply reflecting it — but it does this in ways that feel elevating, not offensive.
To improve their approach to diversity training in the face of Trump administration attacks, DEI proponents throughout the nonprofit world should study what the diverse stars of television, film, and music are getting right. One of the best places to start that education is with the cooking show Top Chef, now in its 22nd season.
Diversity = Better Food
The show’s judges and contestants are a highly diverse bunch, representing a wide range of races, ethnicities, genders, sexual orientations, nationalities, and personality types. But what really matters is how their diversity is woven into the show. Identity is depicted as a source of pride, not a status of victimization. Where you’re from and who you are makes your food better, which benefits everyone who has the opportunity to eat it.
The current season features contestant Tristan Epps, a Trinidadian American who lives in Texas and loves going to the rodeo. As a child he moved every two years because his mom was in the military. “I take all of the places I’ve traveled in my life and filter it through Afro-Caribbean cuisine,” he tells the camera as he makes a delicious meat dish.
Another contestant, Zubair Mohajir, is a former financial analyst who was born in India and raised in Qatar. His Chicago restaurant, Mirra, integrates food from his South Asian Muslim heritage with the city’s widely available Mexican food to create novel dishes, like roti quesadillas.
As they prepare their dishes, contestants frequently tell stories about how some part of their identity or personal experience inspired their cooking. Cesar Murillo, a Mexican American chef who also lives in Chicago, spoke about how he used to make himself a dinner of popcorn and cream when he first moved to the city and had barely $600 to his name. Those memories of creatively making do with so little inspired one of the show’s winning dishes — gourmet popcorn and grits topped with chopped apple and blue cheese.
Delicious Combinations
Diversity work isn’t just about variety, it’s about combination. Top Chef excels at highlighting this fact.
First Nations chef Denia Baltzer, a guest judge for one episode, told the story of a tradition in the Canadian province of Alberta called the “stampede,” which brought together the food and culture of Indigenous people and white ranchers. Berries were an important part of Indigenous peoples’ diet, and red meat was the preferred food choice for the white ranchers. This story was a set up for a fascinating food contest. The contestants would each be assigned a different berry, representing native cultures, and could choose a type of red meat, representing the white ranchers. Their assignment was to combine the two into a dish.
Top Chef also serves as a kind of bridge program for chefs from underrepresented backgrounds.
Tristan Epps talked about how inspired he was as a young African American chef watching Marcus Samuelsson, who is also Black, win Top Chef Masters. He jumped at the chance to apprentice with Samuelsson, learning both technique and ambition from the master. Epps hopes his own appearance on Top Chef moves other young Black chefs to pursue their dreams, just as Sameulsson inspired him.
This is what the best of diversity work looks like. It strives to elevate those with fewer opportunities, connect people’s identities to their achievements, and encourage people to creatively merge their traditions to enrich all our lives. More excellent minority chefs bringing their identities, stories, and creativity into their dishes means more delicious food for everyone.
That’s the kind of diversity work that people of all political persuasions can get behind.
