Good evening.
Hi.
Welcome to the first
ever Convergence
at the Confluence of Power,
Identity, and Design.
[cheering]
We're so glad to welcome
you all to Gunt Hall
for a weekend of reflection,
discussion, and action.
As the current co-chairs
of Women and Design,
we'd like to introduce
ourselves, the convergence,
and this evening's
keynote speaker.
My name's Adele York,
and I'm in the master
of design studies program
in urbanism, landscape,
and ecology.
And I'm Cynthia Dang, and
I'm in both the master
of architecture and master
of urban planning programs.
And I'm Sara Diamond, and I'm
in the master of landscape
architecture program.
This convergence is
meant to be a first step
in a broad and concerted effort
to reimagine design culture
and bring the issues
of identity and equity
into mainstream
design discourse.
So many people have contributed
their time, enthusiasm,
and labor to make
this weekend happen,
and we hope that this
collaborative spirit
can inspire a new design
practice and ethos.
Addressing and acknowledging
the prevalence of sexual assault
and harassment is fundamental
to the social transformation
we believe necessary.
However, that is not and cannot
be the only behavior addressed.
The design community must
face and come to terms
with, among other things,
the deeply gendered values,
conventions, and theories
of our disciplines.
Now to give you all a brief
overview of the weekend ahead,
tonight we will hear from
our keynote speaker followed
by a happy hour co-hosted by
Latin GSD in the admissions
office.
Tomorrow we delve
into our key themes
through workshops and
panel discussions.
We'll start off with
a panel on power,
split off into workshops
on aspects of identity,
and reconvene after lunch
for a panel on pedagogy.
Then we will hear presentations
from student groups
and organizations from
all over the east coast,
describing the projects and
conversations on identity
and design happening at their
respective institutions.
We conclude with a
panel on activism,
followed by collectively
building an installation
to physically manifest
our conversations.
Lastly, we'd like to
thank our sponsors
and the generous support of many
individuals from Harvard GSD,
the departments of architecture,
landscape architecture,
urban planning, and design,
the development and alumni
relations office, human
resources office, the Office
of Faculty Affairs, the
Office of Student Services,
the Office of the
Dean, the master--
urban planning and
master of design
studies programs, and the Joint
Center for Housing Studies.
We also thank Jaya
Kader, Founding Principal
of KZ Architecture,
Rhode Island's School
of Design, NOMAS, and the
Women's Leadership Initiative
of Robert AM Stern Architects.
We'd like to send
a special thank you
to all the individuals, Women
and Design convergence team
members, and collaborators
who made this event possible.
Also, the amazing support
of Erika George and Jackie
Piracini has been invaluable.
And now I want to introduce
our amazing speaker tonight.
This summer, I had
the opportunity
to work at the local non-profit
organization Mass Design Group,
and that's where I met Jha D.
As a senior associate there,
she has worked on numerous
projects including the African
Center of Excellence
for Genomics
of Infectious
Diseases in Nigeria,
the National Memorial
for Peace and Justice
to Victims of Lynching
in Montgomery, Alabama,
and the Oasis at Bartlett
Station in Roxbury,
Massachusetts.
Not only is she a
talented designer,
but she is also a spoken word
artist and event producer
and overall space maker for
LGBTQIA communities of color.
Born and raised here
in Boston, Jha D
received her BS in architecture
from Northeastern University,
taught for two years at the
Boston Architectural College,
and then pursued her M Arc 1 at
the University of Pennsylvania.
After graduation, she
returned to her home city
to continue curating and
co-hosting the monthly open mic
that she founded, the
If You Can Feel It,
You Can Speak It
open mic movement.
And she began working
at Sasaki Associates.
As a spoken word artist
and event organizer,
Jha D exclaims that
there is pure art
in speaking your own truth.
She is dedicated
to creating spaces
for artists, particularly
those within the LGBTQIA
communities of color.
As a designer, she urges
that design and the built
environment are vehicles
for equity, justice,
and social change.
We are so thrilled
to welcome Jha D here
to kick off the Convergence.
So give it up for Jha D.
[applause]
Thank you.
Before I officially
begin, I would just
like to clarify one
point about my bio
because these things
are important.
I did not have the pleasure
of working on the National
Memorial for Peace and Justice.
I wish that I had.
Unfortunately, I arrived at
mass right as it was opening,
so I did not work on it.
However, I did get to attend
the opening, which was
an experience in and of itself.
So I just wanted to clarify
that for any records
that may be being kept
for this here talk,
and I would like
to thank you all
for that lovely introduction and
of course for having me here.
So good evening, everyone.
Good evening.
Y'all sleep?
Good evening, everyone!
Good evening!
OK, that's a little bit better.
I am a call and response person,
and so I will call you out
if you do not respond.
So let's see.
Let me actually
officially begin here.
Wow.
I have never met a Black
female architect before.
You all.
If I had $1 for
every time I've heard
somebody say that to me,
I promised you I would not
be working full time right now.
I'm so serious.
And trust me while
I am completely
flattered by people's
response in this excitement
and this reaction, I'm also
terribly exhausted by it.
And it's that exhaustion
or the experiences
around that
exhaustion that I want
to talk to you
all about tonight.
I'm going to share with you
all some experiences of mine
over the past 15 years.
And through that,
I encourage you all
to have conversation with me.
I encourage you to ask
questions if they're burning.
Otherwise, you can hold
them until the end.
But while I'm sharing
these experiences
and while I'm sharing
these stories,
there are three things that
I hope you all will take away
with you from tonight's talk.
So the first of those is how
are you empowering yourself.
I think that is a very, very
important quality to have,
to be able to strengthen
and empower your own self.
Gibbs does not give
people the opportunity
to take that away from you.
The second thing that
I really hope you all
take away from this talk
is what is your why.
And if you're writing
this down, you
should write WHY down
in capital letters
because there's a point to that.
So what is your why?
What is driving you?
What is your purpose?
Why you're doing this?
Why are you here?
And then the third
thing that I would
like for you all to take with
you is this notion of walking
into every room into every
space with your whole self
or all of yourselves,
meaning do not
leave any part of you at home
or in the car or on the train.
Just bring it all.
So those are the three things
that I really, really hope
you all are able to take away
from what it is that I share
with you all tonight.
Does that sound good?
Yes.
All right.
All right.
We're get a little bit
better on this response,
a little bit better.
The other thing is, as
Cynthia so eloquently said,
I am a spoken word
artist, and so
I'm going to tell
you all now that I'm
going to have a very hard time
staying behind this podium.
It's going to hurt
my heart, but I'm
going to do my best because
I understand that there
is a livestream happening.
There is a video, and I want
to be a good steward to that.
So in order to share my
experiences with you all,
I suppose that I should
start at the beginning.
And with that, I will say
if you had the opportunity
to read the article in
Madam Architect that
went out yesterday, thank you.
Thank you for the snaps.
It was great.
Thank you so much, Julie.
I don't know where you
are-- oh, thank you
for taking the time
to interview me
and for dealing with
my hundreds of edits.
But if you read the
article, then you already
know that I was a Metco student.
So I was born and
raised here in Boston,
and by being a Metco
student what that means is
that I was bussed out
of Boston to the suburbs
for my education-- for all
of my grade school education.
And this experience
was absolutely amazing.
It gave me an opportunity
to probably learn things
anywhere between a year or
two ahead of my cousins.
But, unfortunately, it also
taught me at a very early age
how to deal with
cultural isolation
and how to deal with being
the only minority in the room.
And it was not
until later in life
that I realized that
this would be a problem,
but it's definitely at this
point where this started.
So I was born and raised in
Mattapan, Roxbury, Dorchester,
but I went to school
in Arlington Mass.
The other misfortune of
me being a Metco student
is that as an honors and AP
student, as someone who's
going to school with a
lot of other students
whose parents attended various
colleges, my counselors, both
the Metco counselor and
the school counselors,
assumed that I was OK.
Not a lot of people
checked on me.
They thought, she's here.
She's doing well.
She's in the honors
and AP classes.
She's getting good grades.
She's fine.
My mother also assumed
that I was being taken care
of by the Metco counselors and
by the guidance counselors.
Why is this a problem?
Well, when it was time for
us to apply to college,
I had no idea what
colleges to apply to,
and that's mostly because
I did not actually
know what college was.
And for some people
that might be
absolutely insane to imagine.
It's offensive, et cetera,
but that's my truth.
That was my experience.
As a first generation
college student,
my mother is an
amazing, amazing woman.
I really hope that you
will have the pleasure
to meet her one day.
I'm not joking when I say that.
She will make you
feel like a rock
star in about five minutes.
But she had been living on her
own since she was 14 years old.
She was a police cadet
by the time she was 18.
She was a police officer
by the time she was 21,
and in between that, she had me.
And so my mother did
not go to college.
She did not graduate
high school on time.
And so I had no frame
of reference for what
college actually was, again.
I was a first generation college
student on my mother's side
of the family.
And that's who I grew
up with here in Boston.
So while my classmates
are applying
to their parents
alma maters, I'm
trying to figure out what I'm
going to go to school for.
Obviously, you all
can imagine that this
is pretty embarrassing
to realize
that you don't know what
you're going to college for.
And you're a senior
in high school
and you don't even
know what college is.
So in true Jha D fashion, I bust
into my guidance counselor's
office, and I'm like
what school do I go to?
And she's like, what school
do you want to go to?
And I'm like, I don't know.
She's like, OK, what do you
want to go to school for?
And me, again, in
my ignorance, I'm
like, I want to go
to school for school?
I thought college was an
extension of high school.
I didn't realize that I had
to choose a major, that I had
to choose where I wanted to go.
And so luckily she had the
patience and the wherewithal
to work through this with me.
And after a series
of questions, she
learned that my interest
and that my preferences
were in math, science, art,
and traveling with my mom.
So she suggested that--
yeah.
That's what I like.
That's what I answered.
So from that little
bit of information,
she decided that I should go
to school for architecture.
So that was her
suggestion, and I
ran out of the guidance
counselor's office,
went to the library,
looked up architecture,
spelled it wrong--
how the hell do you spell that--
spelled it wrong, realized what
it was, and immediately started
to put myself into it
and I said, OK, cool.
I can go to school for this.
I can do this.
So I started applying
to schools that
did not require a portfolio
because I obviously
did not have one.
And luckily for me, I
ended up at Northeastern.
And it was at Northeastern that
I actually finally understood
what architecture really
was and what it could be.
And I also began to
understand the social impact
that it could have on society.
Northeastern has a
very urban design
focus to its
undergraduate courses,
and I've been saying
for the past 15 years
if it were not for
that experience,
I don't know that I would
still be here in architecture.
It was also at Northeastern
that I had the first realization
that I was a woman
in architecture.
Mind blown.
It wasn't something that
I had thought about,
but one of our professors
started a class.
Her name is Mozelle--
amazing woman if you
all ever have a chance
to go to University
of Milwaukee.
That's where she's teaching now.
But she started a group for the
other young women in the class
for us to have space to have
conversations about what
it meant to be young
women in architecture,
and how that felt, and
what we wanted to do,
and how we wanted to be
agents of change in that.
And it wasn't until these
conversations started
happening that I
realized that I was,
again, a minority in a space.
So I thank her all
the time for having
brought that to my attention
because while some people may
or may not have been discouraged
or upset by that fact,
I personally was delighted
because who better
to change a space than the
people who the space was not
designed for.
So I was fine with that.
So anyways, let's fast forward.
I had a great time
at Northeastern.
Go Huskies.
I pledged Delta Sigma Theta
Sorority, Incorporated.
I traveled and studied
abroad in Rome.
I went to all the parties.
I made it to all of my classes.
I had an absolute great time.
Northeastern is a five-year
program because at the time
we had three
mandatory co-ops, so I
was able to work in three
different firms for six
months at a time.
And if you read in the
article, I also intentionally
did not work at
architecture firms,
so I will pause
here for a moment
to just share that with you all.
If you have the opportunity
to intern in places, please,
please, please try not to intern
in an architecture office.
I'm pretty sure there are some
older professionals cringing
right now at the fact
that I just said that.
Y'all will be all right.
But I say that only
because there are so
many other places where you can
learn the importance of design
that do not necessarily have
to be architecture firms.
So in undergrad, I worked
at an engineering firm,
I worked at an
interior design firm,
and I worked for an
architectural software company.
And it was from
those experiences
that I really learned
exactly what type of firm
I would eventually
want to work in.
So after grad school--
excuse me, after undergrad,
I took two years off
because I was burnt
all the way out.
I was exhausted.
I-- my hair was falling out,
my nails were terribly short,
all I could speak was
architecture jargon.
I was so culturally
isolated because again
in all of these design studios
and I'm the only black woman
in my design studios.
And I also-- it
was at this time--
and I recently shared this
with a friend of mine--
it was at this time that I
realized that Boston as a city
is not terribly diverse.
And again for some people,
you're like, duh, girl,
where you been?
But you have to
understand I'm from here,
born and raised here, born and
raised in Roxbury, Mattapan,
and Dorchester, so my entire
environment was Black.
That was my family.
That was my friends.
And so, yes, I was
bussed out to Arlington.
I understood that
experience, but I
didn't realize how much
Boston lacked diversity
until I got to college.
And this great school
experience of being
the only person of color in
most of the rooms continued.
So, again, I had to
take two years off.
I was completely unenthused
with architecture at that point.
I was overwhelmed by it.
I had stopped
believing at some point
that it could actually
make social change
because at some point in studio
it just has to be beautiful.
It just has to be pretty.
It just has to appeal to
this random panel of jurors.
And that really disengaged
me in major ways.
So what did I do for two years?
I bartended because
it was good money.
I performed poetry
because that's near
and dear to my heart.
And I also taught at the BAC.
And it was while I was
teaching that I really
began to learn and
understand what I did know
and what I did not know because
the moment you have to impart
some knowledge on somebody,
you will very quickly learn
whether or not
you understand it.
So if any of you all are trying
to understand your skill sets,
go try to teach it
to somebody else.
Explain it to your grandmother
and see how well you're doing.
So I was teaching at
the BAC, and again there
are six design instructors--
actually I'll pause here.
I'll back up for a second.
How I ended up teaching at
the BAC is important for me
to tell you all simply because
it was one of those things
where it was relationship based.
I created that
opportunity for myself.
It did not come find me.
While I was at Northeastern
I was volunteering
for their high
school program where
they were bringing high school
students into the collage,
and in that time, I gave
it my all, gave it my best,
did a great job,
established a relationship
with the director for
first-year studio.
So he knew who I was.
So when they opened the
applications for instructors
in the fall, I put
my application in
and he already knew
the caliber of work
that I had to offer
regardless of my accolades.
So let's fast forward
to the first night
of studio orientation.
There's six of us.
Of course, I'm the
only Black woman.
There's two other women,
some like, all right, sis,
I see you.
We're here.
Maybe.
I don't know.
OK, we're going to find out.
But 'cause you don't know!
You don't know where your
allies and your accomplices
are until some things pop off.
So anyways we're up there,
we're introducing ourselves,
and I intentionally go
last because I know what
this is going to sound like.
So the five of them get up
and they say their name,
they say where they
went to undergrad,
they say where
they went to grad,
and they say where
they're working.
So everybody's
like, ooh, aah, aah.
So then I get up,
and I'm like, hi.
My name is Jhanea
Williams, and I
am so excited to
share with you all
what I've learned over
the past five years
at Northeastern University.
And that's exactly
what they did.
The entire room was
immediately terrified like I
could see them praying
to their deities
that I was not their instructor.
I could see it happening.
And I didn't care because
I knew what I knew
and I knew what I
was ready to share
and I knew what
I was capable of.
So I just smiled.
And eventually they smiled back.
Unfortunately, my
gangster-- if you will,
my confidence was
a little tested
only a week into--
excuse me, two weeks
into the course because
one of the students,
who was about twice my age,
got really upset at one
of my critiques that his
design was not broad enough--
his conceptual design
was not broad enough.
It was very focused.
It was very serious and
streamlined, and I'm like, bro,
it's the second week of studio.
Calm down.
You're going to have to
do this for a long time.
Save your energy.
But he was very
upset at my critique,
and he said out loud I cannot
believe that someone who is
my daughter's age is sitting
here critiquing my work.
I have decades of experience
in finance, and I just--
I can't-- I don't even
understand how you feel this
way.
[laughter]
Let me tell, y'all.
I had to call on
all my ancestors.
I called them all in
about five minutes.
I put them on speed
dial, group text.
I did everything I
needed to do to try
to maintain my composure.
And I pointed out to him.
I said, sir, the
difference between me--
because he said you know
somebody my daughter's age is
actually what he said--
I said, the difference
between me and your daughter
is that I have five
years of experience
in my architectural education.
I have worked in three
different places.
I'm not even going
to try to point out
the differences between
architecture and finance
to you.
And your age or my
age is not important
here because I'm not
teaching life lessons.
I'm teaching architecture.
So you have one of two options.
You can either
trust my experience,
or you can delay your
education by a semester.
[applause]
So he looked at me,
and I looked back
because I was like I still got
ancestors on speed dial, bro.
Try it.
He left it alone, kept drawing.
I went on to the next student.
The next week, he came
in and he apologized.
And he basically
said, my frustrations
with my career change have
nothing to do with you.
I should not have
taken that out on you,
and I sincerely apologize
for treating you
for treating you that way.
And I accepted
his apology, and I
told him let's not
let that happen again.
He ended up getting like
a B minus in my studio.
And that's fine.
But what was important
for me in that moment
and what I want
to share with you
all is you have to teach
people how to treat you.
If you don't do anything else in
your encounters and engagements
with other people, you have to
teach people how to treat you.
They're just things that
I'm not going to tolerate,
and blatant disrespect
is one of them.
So that was my time off in
between undergrad and grad.
And I also want to talk
to you all briefly here
about this notion of your why.
I said that there were three
things that I wanted you all
to take away, and this notion
of why is very important.
So I'll back up for a moment.
This empowering will be
all throughout the thread,
and I'll point two places
where I'm giving you these.
But teaching people how
to treat me obviously
is empowering, asking
the right questions
or demanding that my
guidance counselor help
me is empowering.
I was not necessarily
expecting somebody
to bring this information to me.
I was willing and able to be
humble enough to go seek it.
But going forward to
this notion of why,
again, if you read the article,
one of my main things in life
is to create a
legacy for my mother.
For some people, that
is way too sentimental.
That is way too sappy.
It doesn't have enough
glam and glitz to it.
I don't really care.
My main purpose
right now in life
is to create a
legacy for my mother.
I really value and
appreciate all the sacrifices
that she and my grandmothers
made for me to be in the places
that I am today,
and I am determined
to pay that forward to them
by the things that I do.
So that's one of my whys.
The other part of my
why is to exhaust--
and when I say exhaust I
mean exhaust my blessings.
Whatever those blessings are,
whatever those talents are,
it is to exhaust them so
that I can create space
for other people.
These two things are very, very,
very, very important for me.
And I have these whys.
I establish these whys because
it holds me accountable.
I cannot tell you all how many
times I do not want to get up
and go to work.
I do not want to
go to XYZ event.
I do not want to actively
participate in a conversation.
I do not want to say
yes to something.
And my why starts nagging
at me, starts poking at me,
starts probing me
because this is something
that I said that I wanted
to do, that I want it to be,
and that why is what gets me up.
That why is what
pushes me forward.
So if you don't
have a why already,
please, please get yourself one.
And I say that because
my why is actually
what got me to finally
apply for grad school,
and it's the thing that
kept me from quitting.
Well, actually, no.
My best friend Patrick
is what kept me
from quitting because he would
show up to my house with coffee
every morning.
So I'd come downstairs
for the coffee,
and then I had to go to class.
But y'all get the point.
So my why is what
got me in the groove
of applying for grad schools.
My attitude was I
started this thing.
I have to finish this thing.
And so I started
applying to grad schools.
I don't know how
many of you in here--
how many in here are
applying or already students
or if you're thinking
about applying,
but I will share this with you.
I applied to seven
different schools,
to seven different grad
schools, and all seven schools
I applied to the
dual degree program.
All seven schools,
I only got accepted
to one of two programs.
Which is great.
At least I got accepted,
but I was very fortunate.
I was like, wait.
Y'all I don't think I could
do two things at one time?
So I was a little discouraged
and frustrated by that.
And actually correction.
One of the schools, it was my
second time applying to it.
I had applied to
it the year prior
and did not get
accepted and applied
again during this
batch of applications.
So I ended up at
UPenn because I was
interested in being
in Philadelphia.
And did I hear a whoo?
Do we have Philly in the house?
OK.
OK.
All right.
I see you, Philly, quietly.
Philly's a little louder
than that, but that's OK.
So I ended up at Penn, and I
was very excited to be there.
I was very excited to
be in Philadelphia.
And unfortunately I was
immediately frustrated again
upon arrival because here I
was the only Black woman in all
of my studios.
And at this point
it was something
that I began to embrace.
I understood it as a moment
of, again, empowerment
because I figured, OK, something
has got to change here.
Something is going
to change here,
and my mere presence
is part of that change.
My mere presence is initiating
these conversations.
Me being in this space,
me sharing my experiences,
me going out to different
events and letting
other people know that it is
more than possible to study
this particular major
is what's going to start
to initiate this change.
So I did not take
it as a burden,
but I will say that
it was very isolating.
And it was very exhausting.
And so I encourage you all
to throughout your studies,
throughout your work
to find your tribe.
If you're not going to get
your tribe in your classrooms,
find it in other places.
There are plenty of
organizations, events,
et cetera, where you
can find your tribe,
and if you don't think
your tribe is important,
just trust me on this one.
It is.
It definitely, definitely is.
So while I was at Penn, I
had some amazing experiences.
I met some really
powerful people,
not powerful in terms
of their notoriety
but powerful in terms
of the way that they
move throughout the world.
I was able to establish
some great relationships,
but I also came up against
several challenges.
And one of them
was a conversation
that I had with a classmate.
We were talking about
the cost of books
and tuition or
something or another,
and he asked me, he said, so do
you feel like the only reason
why you have the opportunities
that you have are
because you're a Black
woman studying architecture?
It's such a non-diverse field.
Do you feel like that's
the only reason why
you're on full scholarship?
[sighs heavily]
Called my ancestors again.
This time I called
everybody's ancestors.
I was like, y'all need
to come get your boy.
No, for real, y'all, because--
like flames were coming out
of every part of my body.
And so I had to calm myself
down so that I could relay what
it is that I wanted to say.
And with a smile, I politely
explained to him I said, no.
I said, my opportunities
are a direct result
of me busting my ass and
applying myself in every way
possible because I
don't have the luxury
to rest on my laurels or my
privilege quite like you do.
[applause]
And his face looked like he
hadn't called his ancestors.
And so he immediately
tries to retract
and try to explain what
it is that he meant.
And that got dismissed with
this notion about the difference
between impact and intent.
I was like, nah.
I don't care what
your intentions were.
Here was your impact.
You offended me.
We now have a problem.
So I walked away from
that conversation.
I'm pretty sure there are other
things that I could have said,
but I was like, I
don't have time.
There's not enough
time in the world
to fix that level
of just stupidity.
But these are the things
that I was dealing with.
And so that right there
made me start to question
whether or not my classmates--
my other classmates felt
the same way, whether or not
my instructors felt the
same way, whether or not
my family for that
matter felt the same way.
I was immediately
more conscious than I
had been about whether or not
I deserved to be in that space.
And that was not fair.
That was not necessary.
Obviously I deserved
to be in the space.
Otherwise, I wouldn't
have been there.
And so that hurt for a bit.
It definitely derailed
me for some time.
And then eventually
it just propelled me.
It encouraged me to
work harder, to work
faster so that when somebody
did ask me that question again,
I could come back with the
same answer because I know,
and I want you all to
know, the value of my work.
I know the value of my presence.
I know the value of my why.
And again nobody can take
that away from me regardless
of their opinions.
So I graduated Penn without
having a bust nobody's behind
and came on back home to Boston.
And the reason why
I did that is, one,
because this is where I'm from
and I wanted to practice here.
Too many people
are transient here.
They only come here
for school and then
they leave, or they grow up
here and they go to school
somewhere else and
they don't come back,
and I just did not want
to be one of those people.
I wanted an opportunity to build
and develop here in my own city
and practice the things that I
had learned here in the places
that I was from.
And I also wanted to
get back to my open mic.
That is a very near and
dear space to my heart.
I created that open
mic nine years ago.
Actually next Thursday,
we will celebrate
our ninth anniversary.
[applause]
Thank you.
And we will do so--
we will celebrate our
space also as being
the only open mic
dedicated to the LGBTQIA
communities of color.
And I started that
mic, like I said,
nine years ago
because I personally
was fed up with going into
some of these open mic venues
that you all may or may
not be familiar with
and while I was being heard
and respected in the space
and they gave me my
three or five minutes,
I wasn't getting any love.
And I'm an only child y'all,
so, I need I need love.
I need hugs and
kisses and flowers,
and I need all the love.
And so I was trying to figure
out why am I not hitting,
why am I not
reaching these folks.
And then I took inventory,
which is what I do.
Anytime something's
not going the way
I feel like it
should be going, I
take inventory to figure
out what am I missing.
What is the gap?
And I realized that
I was performing
in these very heteronormative,
predominantly white spaces.
And I'm like, chile,
of course, they're
not going to give you no love.
They don't know what the
hell you're talking about.
As a Black queer
woman, they like,
you are just-- you're going
right over their heads.
So I figured I probably
was not the only person
in the city experiencing this.
I created the mic,
and lo and behold,
every second Thursday
of the month,
anywhere between
50 to 120 people
will show up at
my open mic venue
and we will go in and
go hard and go home.
So I wanted to come back
home to that, and so I did.
And when I got home, it
was very hard to find
a job, which I did not expect.
I'm thinking I did it.
I got two degrees, I
taught, I got experience,
I'm cute, not that that matters,
but that's how I was feeling.
I feeling myself.
So I'm like this
going to be easy.
I got this.
I'm just going to
go in here, and I'm
going to do these interviews.
No.
No, not at all.
So many of the places that I was
applying to, first of all, half
of them weren't even hiring.
I was just blindly
applying because this
is where I wanted to work.
And I'm a person who feels like
if you create the opportunity,
the opportunity
will create itself.
And so I'm just applying.
So half of them aren't
hiring, and then
those that are not
trying to give me
the coins that I deserve.
And I'm sitting
across from them.
I'm like, what did you
just say is the salary?
Do you know how long
I just went to school?
Do you know how much that cost?
Oh, you are out your mind.
So I was having a very
hard time finding work,
and I actually had an interview
at one of the top construction
firms here in the city.
And a friend had recommended
me, and so that's
how I was able to
get the interview.
And I sat with the VP for
about an hour and a half.
And it was a great
conversation, and he
asked all the right questions.
I asked all the right questions.
It was great.
We was groovin'.
And so two weeks go by,
and I don't hear anything.
And so I reach out to
the friend of mine that
had gotten me the interview.
And I said, hey, have you heard
anything, and she's like, yeah.
I'm so sorry, but you
didn't get the job.
And so, again, you have to
learn from these things.
I asked why.
I wasn't satisfactory enough
that I didn't get the job.
I needed to know why.
And she's like, well, I know
you don't want to hear this,
but he said that
perhaps if you're
going to do a job interview, you
should take out your nose ring.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
What?
I'm looking at the phone,
and I was just so confused.
Now mind y'all,
you see this hair.
Can everybody see the hair?
See the hair.
I had the hair pulled back,
which I normally don't do.
So I was like, let
me pull this back
so my hair is not a distraction.
I put on the right
business attire.
I didn't go with my
normal artistic clothing.
I took my bangles off.
I was like, we are just going
to minimize the distractions,
and we're going to
focus on my portfolio.
We're going to
focus on my resume.
And this person--
[laughter]
Getting mad already
all over again--
had the nerve to say
I should consider
taking out my nose ring.
And, again, this is one
of these moments where
I'm like, there are
always going to be
hurdles for me to overcome
to be in this profession.
Always.
And at that point, I
was like, you know what.
Fine.
Let's do it.
I'm just going to embrace them.
All the hurdles, let's have
them because they're clearly
not going anywhere.
I don't know why they're
not going anywhere.
I don't know what it is that
I'm supposed to learn from them,
but I'm going to learn something
because they're clearly
going to be here.
So I got over that.
I was a little upset because I
was really looking forward to
finally having some income.
But I also decided that
that was not a place that I
wanted to work at anyways.
If you were going to
choose to see my nose
ring over my experience, then
I didn't need to be there.
And so luckily I was driving
by what was the construction
site of the Bowling Building
in Dorchester-- do you all
know this building
that I'm talking about,
the Boston Public
School new headquarters.
So I'm driving past there.
And I dead stop in
the middle of traffic.
I'm pretty sure I pissed a
lot of people off behind me.
And I'm looking, and I'm
like, is this construction
in Dudley, in Roxbury?
How is this happening?
Who is doing this?
Because my entire life,
I had never seen anything
happening-- no development,
no redevelopment,
no investment in this
particular area of the city.
So I'm like, no, no, no.
I need to know who's doing
this, who's responsible,
what's happening?
So me being the
relationship-based person
that I am, I started
calling friends.
And I was like, who do I know,
who do I know, who do I know?
Ended up finding
a friend who was
an ironworker on the project.
She told me that the topping
off ceremony was that Thursday.
Told me I should come.
Fine.
I will be there.
It was a big to do because,
again, this is the first time
something's being
built in this area,
and it's the Boston Public
School headquarters.
So I show up, resume
and portfolio in hand.
Hint, hint, carry it around.
Just keep it.
Just keep-- you got your cell
phone, resume, and portfolio.
Bring it with you.
So I show up resume
and portfolio in hand,
and I'm just introducing
myself to everybody.
I'm pretty sure people
were like, what the hell is
wrong with this woman
because I didn't
know who the architects were.
I had no idea, but I
was going to find them.
And luckily my friend
brought me over to them.
She was like you are
killing yourself right now.
And I introduced myself to two
women, Meredith and Victoria
from Sasaki, and I
said, hey, listen.
I'm so excited
about this project.
I think this is
absolutely amazing.
I've seen the renderings.
I love what you all are doing.
I just got back
home from Boston--
from UPenn.
I'm born and raised
in Boston, and I would
love to work at your firm.
And I'm pretty sure the two
of them were like, what the--
is wrong with this woman?
This is not how this goes.
In my mind, I'm like this is
how it's going to go today.
This is how it's
going to go for me.
I don't know how
it goes for you,
but this is how I needed to go.
And so bless their hearts
because I harassed them
for about three weeks.
I kept calling, kept emailing
before they were finally
able to find time
to interview me.
And I get the interview.
After three interviews,
I get the job,
and here I am working
at Sasaki Associates.
And I was elated.
Y'all can clap for that.
That's a big deal.
[applause]
It's OK.
You can clap.
I told you, only
child, only child.
No, but that experience
was absolutely amazing.
And so I had the pleasure of
working there for four years,
and then I transitioned
to Mass Design Group
this past February.
And I did that because I
was at a point in my career
where I was tired of
defending the fact
that our work needed to be
equitable, that it needed
to have a social justice lens.
I was tired of that
being happenstance,
and I needed it to be
a common occurrence.
I needed it to be the
thread with which we worked.
And so when the opportunity
came to work at Mass,
I ran over to the
Commons and was,
like, yes, please let's do this.
Let's talk.
So I've been there
now since February.
And I cannot tell you
all how much happier I am
as a designer, but I don't think
that that opportunity would
have presented itself to me had
I not gone through these other
things that I just
talked to you all about.
And so the last thing I
want to share with you
all is this notion,
like I said before,
of bringing your whole self into
every room that you walk into.
And why that's important
for me to bring up now
is because while
I was at Sasaki,
I absolutely loved who I was
working with and to an extent
the work that I was doing.
I did not love who
I was at that place
because I was leaving a lot
of who I was at home when
I was going into work.
I was not an artist
in that space.
I was-- my name, if
my mother calls it,
is Jhanea [inaudible].
At Sasaki, I was Jhanea.
They couldn't even
pronounce it right.
And that's not their fault. I
never bothered to correct them,
but I was Jhanea.
Whereas now, at Mass Design
Group, if you go on website,
it says Jha D. And that
is what I prefer to be.
I prefer to be called by the
name that I named myself,
and I prefer to be
acknowledged as an artist
and as an
architectural designer.
And so I had the opportunity
to reassess who and where
I wanted to be as a professional
as I made this career
shift to Mass, and as a result
I am a much happier practitioner
than I was before.
The other reason why I
find that to be important,
this notion of bringing
your whole self into a room,
is because you have no idea
how exhausting and taxing it
becomes on your person, on your
soul to leave pieces of you
in other places.
And I understand that the
workplace or the school
is this professional realm and
it's serious and it's focused,
but so are you and
all of who you are.
So you don't leave
any of that behind.
And two weeks ago I was at the
NOMA Conference in Chicago.
Yes, clap it up.
You can clap.
Come through with these claps.
Yes.
[applause]
And that was very important.
This is a sidebar.
That was very important 'cause
I already mentioned to you
all your tribe.
Find your tribe, find your
tribe, find your tribe.
I cannot stress that enough.
I had gotten to a
place in my career
where I was like, listen.
I got my partner.
I got my friends.
I have my open mic community.
I got my tribe.
I'm good.
It doesn't matter that
I don't see myself
in the workplace like
that's all right.
I got this.
I can see myself.
There's mirrors.
It's OK.
Y'all I got to NOMA.
Oh!
I did a dance.
I was like, yes!
I was so excited to be
in a room with like 400
to 600 other architects
and designers of color.
And it was just remarkable to
just hear these conversations
and participate in
this level of activity.
And there were parties,
which was also important
because you got
to relax as well.
As hard as we work,
you also got to party.
But I also had the
opportunity-- there,
by the way, only 444 Black
female architects registered
in the United States currently.
I got to meet about 20 of
them while I was at NOMA.
So anyways I was
there, and I was
asked to sit on this
panel about gender.
And the general topic was
how our male counterparts
can begin to show up for us
in these professional spaces.
And the gentleman
facilitating the conversation
brought up the fact
that he felt guilty
that he did not know any
architects that were LGBTQ.
He left it there.
He didn't he didn't
get to the IA.
He-- that was him not me.
And so one of the students stood
up in the room, and she said,
well, I don't
think that matters.
I don't I don't
know why you have
to identify them as such
like you should engage them
by their work.
What they did is more
important than who they are.
And I had to push back on
that, and I said, no, no, no.
I said, it matters who they
are because history needs
to know that they existed.
History needs to know that they
in all of themselves existed.
And so when I walk into a
room, be it a classroom,
be it a board room, be
it a doctor's office,
be it whatever, I do the
best that I can to bring
my entire self into that room.
My blackness because
I can't leave it
anyways, my womanhood because
I can't really leave it
anyways-- but we all know that
gender is a construct anyways.
That is for another talk.
I'm not going to go there--
and my queerness.
I cannot leave these
things at home, one,
because I do not want to
exhaust myself but, two,
and more importantly because
I do not know who else
in the room needs to
see all of me there.
So with that, I thank
you all for your time.
[applause]
Oh, my god.
Sit down!
My mother would be so happy.
I should've taken a
picture of that for my mom.
Somebody give me a snippet
from the live feed.
So my understanding
is that we now
have 15 minutes for questions.
Did I do OK on time?
I was trying not to look at
you, so you couldn't tell me.
But, yes, questions.
Please let's ask them.
Do not be afraid to
ask me questions.
I will not be afraid
to answer them.
Yes.
[audio out]
Yeah, that's fine.
Project.
You got it.
I believe in you.
So you've been at
Mass since February,
and you mentioned bringing
your whole self now
for several months, which I
really appreciate you talking
about that because I feel like
there's a lot of identities
that each of us bring.
When you say that
you gave yourself--
you're called by your name
that you gave yourself
and that you're being called
as an architect and an artist,
when you're interacting with
others in those conversations
that you have in
Mass, how else are you
bringing your whole self.
Right.
I appreciate that question
because I don't want you all
to think that like I'm speaking
in poem in the office all day.
It's not necessarily a
constant thing so much
as it is a known and
understood thing.
So, for example, the Oasis--
that Bartlett project
that Cynthia brought
up in my bio,
we had an opportunity
to respond to that RFP.
And at the time when
the RFP was due,
the entire office had just
returned back from Montgomery
for the EGI opening, and
then all of our directors
left for Rwanda for a retreat.
So there was literally nobody in
the office to reply to the RFP.
And so myself and two other
junior folks at the same level
as I did, we were like, no,
we're going to get this done.
And I remember blatantly
slacking one of the directors
because he was like, we're
not going to get it in.
Maybe you can ask
for an extension,
or maybe we just
don't do this project.
And I was like, no, no, no.
I am a poet.
I am a spoken word artist.
I'm a community
organizer in this city.
I am not going to
pass up an opportunity
to design an outdoor performance
venue in my own city.
That's just not
going to work for me.
So we're going to get
this done, and you're
going to find some internet
service on this mountain.
And you're going to review it.
So it's not that I'm always
having the conversation.
It's so much that
everybody in the office
understands what my interests
are, what my position is,
and what it is that I want to
be doing if that makes sense.
Does that answer your question?
OK, great.
Next question.
No.
Don't be shy.
I won't bite unless
you ask me to.
Oh, can't see you.
There you go.
Oh, y'all heard that?
Mic still on?
Thanks for your talk.
How did you turn
your hurt into drive?
That is a really great question.
I turned my hurt into drive--
it goes back to my why
because my why to me
is bigger than my hurt.
My hurt is very real.
My hurt still exists.
My insecurities, my questions
about whether or not
I belong still happen, but my
why is also still happening.
Also I read in too many books
at this point but life is--
I don't know the exact quote,
so don't copy me for this--
but life is 90% what happens
to you, 10% how you react.
So I took my hurt, and I
was like, OK, I am hurt.
I am pissed off.
I am offended.
What am I going to ensure
that this, a, does it happen
to me again, and, b,
hopefully does not
happen to somebody else?
Once I took it and I
put purpose on the hurt,
the hurt has to
shift because now I
have something else that I
need to do with the hurt.
So that's how I deal with it.
And I eat a lot of chocolate.
[laughter]
So real.
And wine.
Can I say that?
Wine.
That's the thing.
That's the thing.
Anybody else?
You gotta wait.
Sorry.
What's the time and
location of the open mic?
[laughter]
Yes for this question!
So it is at the Milky Way
in Jamaica Plain, which
is right behind the
Sam Adams Brewery.
It's in between a Stony
Brook and Green Street
train station stops
on the orange line.
And it starts at 9:30-ish,
depending on how crowded
the room is.
But I highly suggest you
get there around 8:30
if you want a seat.
And it's every Thursday?
Second Thursday.
Second Thursday.
Every second Thursday.
So if you look up
If You Can Feel It,
You Can Speak It on Facebook,
you'll find our group.
Cool.
Thanks.
Yes.
You're welcome.
I love that question.
I get to do a selfless plug.
Here's a question
all the way up here.
Hi, Jha D.
Hi.
I wondered [audio out]
Certainly.
So sadly I can't say that it
has shown up in a heavy way
yet in my actual design
work because for so
long I was leaving it at home.
I was leaving my
experience as an artist,
as a community organizer
at home because I
was under the impression
that it did not
fit in the academia or
the professional world
of architecture.
However, in terms of the
way that I approach design,
I'm very excited to
share this story with you
all, it is beginning
to show up at work now.
So, for example,
I don't remember
when a few months ago, I went on
an interview for a competition.
And for those of you that
aren't familiar with Mass,
we have this whole
entire pre-design phase
called immersion where we really
take the time and the energy
and the resources to focus
in on the communities that
will be designing for and with.
And we figure out
and talk to them
and ask them what
their needs are.
They learn about us,
we learn about them,
and it is from then that we're
able to develop the vision
and then go into the project.
So that is essentially
what immersion is.
I'm pretty sure some of
my masters in the room
are like, girl, you missed
five things, but that's OK.
So that's what it is.
So we were on this
interview, and we
were talking about what
immersion meant for us
and what it could look like.
And it was a
45-minute interview,
and at the end of the
interview, there's
six or seven of us
sitting up on the stage,
and I had not said anything
the entire interview.
So I'm pretty sure there
are people in the audience
like, oh, they just got the
Black girl up there just
because they need a Black girl.
So I'm pretty sure
people were confused
because I hadn't spoken,
and towards the end,
I got up unintroduced, and I
performed a spoken word poem.
And when I tell you I completely
changed the energy of the room,
I completely changed
the energy of the room.
Everybody was awake, alert,
and damn near in tears.
And so immediately after
I finished performing,
I said how does
that make you feel?
What did you just feel?
Somebody said I feel heard.
Somebody said I feel engaged.
Somebody said I feel alert.
And I said that is excellent .
The way that I just shifted
this space is one of the ways
that we might be able
to shift these spaces
within this particular
project as we
start to do our community
outreach and our community
engagement.
We can pull people into the
conversation in different ways
than we had before if we get
a little bit more creative.
So that's one of the ways that
my spoken word poetry and art
is starting to come into
the way that I design.
That was an amazing
opportunity, and I never
expected it to happen.
But it was great.
And it's actually somewhere
on Facebook I think.
I'll find it and post it,
and these lovely ladies
will get it to you.
But it was dope.
Yes.
Any other-- yes.
Yes.
[audio out]
So the question-- just in
case you all didn't hear it--
was the acknowledgment
that I'm working
to build a legacy for my
mother and then the question
was how do I do that
without alienating
the generation before me who
has not experienced that,
who has not done that before?
How do we prevent
this alienation?
And unfortunately there
is no way around that.
And I've been talking
to several of my friends
who also have the two degrees
and the professional this
and the professional
that, and we're all always
talking about how we don't
know how to talk to our parents
anymore.
And it hurts.
It's very frustrating for me
because I'm an only child.
My mother is a single parent.
That is literally my world.
And there are times when
I know she cannot hear me.
I know she cannot hear me.
She does not understand
half of what I'm doing.
She doesn't understand--
there's gaps.
However, I still know
that she's proud.
So she can't hear me,
but she can see me.
She can feel me, and
she can celebrate me.
And that is all that
I can really control.
So I-- the alienate--
like the ways
that I choose to
interact with my mother
are on our common basis.
When I go see her
in North Carolina,
when she comes here
to see me in Boston,
when we meet up in
different cities--
because that's the
thing that we do now,
I take her to different cities--
and we meet up, but when we do
that we talk about the things
that we do have in common.
We talk about my
birthday because that's
like her favorite holiday.
[laughter]
We talk about food.
We talk about my hair and what
color it is and et cetera.
We talk about the things
that do make sense to her.
And that's it
because if I were not
to continue to alienate myself
from her unfortunately--
because that's the process.
She does not know
what I'm doing.
She's not been where I'm
going, but if I don't do that,
then I will never be able
to get past where she is.
And so I'm sorry, but there's
really no way around it.
So embrace it and figure out
how to make it a little softer.
Yes.
Yes.
Hi.
[audio out]
So I have two responses to that.
And the first is I've
actually had that situation,
both in undergrad and in grad.
And I chose to take it out
of the studio classroom,
and I went to them personally
to ask is there something
that you feel like I'm
missing as a student that
is frustrating you
beyond the point where
you were able to
instruct me effectively?
Is whatever I'm not
doing right, is it
that offensive to
you to where you
feel like as a professional, as
a leader, as a potential mentor
that you're not able
to connect with me?
And it was very calm.
It was very much out of genuine
desire to solve the problem
and not necessarily
just coming at them.
One professor gave me a
straightforward enough answer,
was probably like
thrown off of his ass
that I asked the
question that way.
And the other professor
just blew me off
and pretended as if
he didn't understand
what I was talking about
in terms of the way
that he was treating
me and regarding me.
And so I was like, OK,
clearly you're a brick wall.
I'm not going to
get through this.
The second part of
that is whenever
I'm having a hard time
with somebody, if I'm not
able to communicate
with them one on one,
I go and find an ally or an
accomplice if you will now,
in that effort.
And so I went and got
another professor.
And I said, hey, listen.
Here's the first problem.
I'm not getting something.
Me not being able to communicate
with this person means
that I'm probably missing
out on some information.
Can you help me to get to a
place where I can receive it?
The second part
of the problem is
is that I feel
like it's personal.
Do you have any
recommendations around this?
Hopefully, that other
professor, that other director
or whatever, whoever
you find as an ally,
hopefully they have
more of a relationship
with this particular
instructor, and they
can give you some insight
into what may be happening.
And so I would ask do
you have any insight?
Can you help me with this?
And then lastly can you
help me to figure out
a way to get this information?
Because at the end of
the day, what matters
is yes, OK, you need the grade.
Personally, you can't
ruin the relationship such
that you don't get the
grade that you need,
which I personally think is BS.
We will not talk
about that right here.
But more importantly,
you need the information.
And you have to do
whatever you need
to get the information
because this person is
one person along a
much longer career.
So those are the things
that I would suggest you do.
And if all else fails, just
flip a desk-- no, don't.
Don't do that though.
I'm joking.
I'm joking.
Yes.
Hi.
My name is Kai.
I'm here with my
colleague, Xavier,
and we're the c-presidents
of WIT NOMAS at Wentworth.
I was actually at
the conference--
Turn up!
A couple of weeks ago.
Yeah and I sat in a lecture
from a lady who represented
a school in Illinois.
She discussed that
she actually founded
about 20 years ago a course
on diversity and architecture.
Do you believe it should be a
requirement for every school
to have it to be a
diversity class for students
in architecture?
Of course.
Here's the thing, people are not
going to necessarily volunteer
to do the things that do not
in their minds directly affect
them.
They might start, they won't
necessarily follow through.
They might do it.
They won't necessarily put
their whole heart into it.
So if there's an opportunity to
just force their hand, why not?
How else is it
going to get done?
So, yes, I think so.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
And kudos to her.
20 years ago!
She better work!
Here for it.
Yes, all the way back there.
I actually saw you at the
open mic in Bella Luna.
Hey!
And as a queer POC
moving here to Boston
just a few months
ago, it was very hard
for me to find community.
So thank you for that forum.
You're welcome.
[applause]
My question is in your
talk, you talked a lot
about the lack of
representation as a Black woman
and as a queer professional.
My question is how
do you see your role
as a mentor in your
professional work
to elevate the voices
of those two populations
and as you operate at that
intersectionality and then
perhaps what we even as students
here at the GSD and our allies
can do in helping to
elevate those voices
of those populations as well.
Certainly.
Great question.
So, again, there's multiple
answers to these questions.
The first answer is to
stay in the profession.
That might sound obvious,
but I've considered
quitting a number of times.
There are many other things I
could do to get my rent paid
and still make my mama proud.
So I don't really
have to be here,
but I choose to stay because
I think it is important, one,
that I'm here, that
my voice is here,
that I'm able to contribute
to these conversations.
But the second part of that
is that, again, somebody else
sees me here.
So I think part of the answer
is to stay in the profession.
One of the other things is to
think strategically and very
hard about how you can inform
future generations of what
this profession is.
So I have younger cousins.
They have friends.
I have the open mic platform.
I perform at different
venues in different cities
in different
states, and I always
let people know that I am
working in an architecture
firm, that I have
an architecture
degree, that I personally
know engineers and planners.
I make this information
known because it
opens people's curiosities.
But then I also--
I volunteer with several high
school groups and career days
and whatever.
So insert yourself
in these places
where people are already talking
to the younger generation
and make yourself known.
Make yourself seen.
The other thing in
terms of thinking
about how to solve
the problem is,
again, I'm so excited to be at
Mass, and I'm not pushing Mass.
I'm pushing my own personal
experiences right now,
but I'm so excited
because I've been there.
And being there I
had the opportunity
to apply for catalysts
funding from the firm in order
to start a fellowship
at Mass that
investigates why there is such a
lack of diversity in our field.
We all know that it exists.
We know the numbers.
But I want to figure out why.
And so I have the funding now
to start this fellowship to do
this research, but also
with the fellowship we're
able to offer
opportunities to fellow
with the firm for people who
otherwise would not necessarily
have an entry point into
the field of architecture.
So intentionally reaching
out to communities
that are underrepresented
in this field
is what we're going to do
through the fellowship.
So when I say think about
critical and creative ways
to increase the diversity is
something that you should do,
that's one example of what I'm
talking about is basically how
do you get more diversity
to the table personally.
Because the field--
the Field capital F--
is not going to do it.
It's just not.
We are going to do it.
[applause]
We have time for
one more question.
Over here.
In the corner.
In the corner.
Over here.
Sure.
OK, so-- hi, Jha.
Hi, there.
When you talk about [inaudible]
and in the profession,
so I'd actually
like to ask about--
sorry, can everybody
here me now?
I'd like to talk about expanding
diversity in the profession.
And my question is
whether the approach is--
so in architecture
education, there's
a traditional way
in which we learn
including use of precedent.
And so one of the questions
is how do we expand the canon?
Incidentally, Expanded Canon
Project dot Tumblr dotcom,
please suggest.
Oh, park it with
the self-promotion.
No, go ahead.
Thank you.
And the second question
is or is your approach
to actually completely change
the approach of the education.
In other words, do we
take the existing template
and then try to diversify
the way in which we
use studio, the way in which we
use creds, the way in which we
use precedent, and
expand the canon?
Or do we completely
rewrite as in the example
of using spoken word in a
community engagement context?
Do we completely rewrite
that, or is it both?
Thank you.
You're welcome and thank
you for the question.
I really wish I could
remember this quote verbatim,
but it's something to the
extent of you cannot destroy
the master's house with
the tools that built it
or something to that extent.
I'm pretty sure
somebody in the room
knows what I'm talking about.
Google it.
Send it to me so I
can say it out loud.
Audre Lorde.
You better work.
I knew who it was.
I just cannot remember the
quote right now to save my life.
But my point is
at some point, we
are going to have to
completely reimagine
how we teach architecture.
Because inherently, whether
it was intentional or not--
although we know it
was-- inherently,
there's something about the
way that we are teaching
it doesn't that is not going
to be able to fully reach
the entire diverse population
that actually should
be learning how to do the work
that it is that we're doing.
So in order for the field
to fully be representative
of the people that it
serves and the people
that we should be working
with and through and for,
the way that the field
is taught is ultimately
going to have to change.
How that change was going to
come about, I do not know,
and I'm not even going
to pretend like I know.
But I am more than
happy to figure it
out with folks who
care about this.
But, yes, it can start
for sure with something
as approachable and tangible
as changing precedence.
It blows-- I cannot tell you--
there are just so
many other buildings
that we could be studying,
so many other architects
that we could be
studying, and yet we
continue to study the
same ones and expect
people to be able to see
themselves in the profession.
So there are scales to it
but ultimately just throw
the whole damn thing away.
Start over.
[laughter]
Yeah.
[applause]
