2025 ƽ Alumni Assembly Presidential Address
Good afternoon, most cherished ƽians! Welcome to this Alumni Assembly of the 145th Alumni Reunion of ƽ in beautiful Herrick Chapel and welcome to all those who join us on the livestream. We are gathered here on campus from 45 states and the District of Columbia and 21 countries. We are a Global ƽ undeterred – inspired by the work we do in the world, and glad for the opportunity to show gratitude to one another.
Today we gather to honor your fellow ƽians; those recipients of Alumni Awards, as determined by Alumni Council, that we recognize for championing the common good. As we do so, my hope for all of you – as ever – is that ƽ (in the people who are ƽ, in the places that remember your time here) be a wellspring for you: that it replenish your resolve and honor you. It will be my great honor to present the first Presidential Lifetime Achievement Award to its esteemed recipient. And I can tell you that doing so replenishes my resolve, that seeing you affirms that ƽ matters in world-changing ways.
"We exist on an almost daily diet of breathless crisis." That phrase, spoken by a ƽian, aptly captures many of our experiences this year, in many different sectors (with the “almost” preserving the possibility of non-crisis, ordinary, cherished existence). “We exist on an almost daily diet of breathless crisis.” I have found both grace and realism in this phrase – I read in it the time we’ve spent decoding executive orders, researching rights, reaching out to each other. This year, I saw in it our community gathering in campus forums, in classrooms, in affinity groups, working to better understand the challenges to and rights of free speech (Tinker vs. Des Moines Public Schools, 1969), immigration (due process, the 5th and the 14th amendments, 1791 and 1868), Title VI and the Civil Rights Act (1964), the Iowa Civil Rights Act (1965), Title IX (1972), and so many other laws and truths that are not – it turns out – self-evident. I prize in it the knowledge that this phrase - “We exist on an almost daily diet of breathless crisis” – was spoken by Joseph Welch (class of 1914) on a visit to the ƽ campus in 1957 – three years after he had asked Senator Joseph McCarthy during a televised hearing on June 9, 1954,”Have you no sense of decency?” precipitating the Senator’s downfall.
I think on this moment when a ƽian spoke in the public sphere of the United States; in the heart of the Cold War; in the quickening pulse of the Civil Rights Movement – at a time when everything was at stake all at once.
It feels like that now, and I think with gratitude and admiration of all that all of you are safeguarding and upholding in your communities right now, and I think of those ƽians who are in the public sphere right now – of Chase Strangio (2004), Co-Director of the ACLU’s LGBT & HIV Project, defending human dignity with awesome brilliance and precision in arguing before the Supreme Court in December of 2024 for the right to gender affirming care for transgender youth. Of Ambassador George Moose (1966), acting president of the United States Institute for Peace, safeguarding both his mission and his staff with tremendous courage and clarity and endurance this spring under intense, threatening, and egregious actions – and prevailing not just “for now” but right now.
We replenish our resolve when we gather to honor each other. And Ambassador Moose, George, WE. HONOR. YOU.
It is good when ƽians gather. At a recent event in Des Moines, Fredo Rivera (2006) put a question to me in the context of our moment. “What does it mean,” he asked, “to be an Iowan today?” It’s a brilliant question because it asks us to consider our existence – our mattering, our impact – in both place and time (Iowa, today). And so, in your good company, I am prompted to ask, “What does it mean to be a ƽian today?” The answers will be as multiple as our experiences and our aspirations. I am eager for you to know what it meant to be a ƽian on campus this year and so offer the following list of moments. This is not a comprehensive list; it’s an invitation to think with this College and its brilliant, marvelous students and all of the people that you hold dear.
This year, being a ƽian meant
- To be in the audience of 3,500 people at Commencement who rose in a standing ovation as the retirement of professor Kesho Scott was announced
- It meant to be from Centerville, IA – population 5,412 – and one of 54 new Truman Scholars selected from 743 candidates –It means to be Rachel Rudacille ’26.
- It meant to protest the rescinding of civil protections for gender identity in the Iowa Civil Rights code, and to be among the 2,500 people at the State Capital to do so.
- It meant to put on a drag show
- It meant to put on a quilt show
- It meant to safeguard international students and faculty and staff and to advocate for immigration rights and protections – in multiple sustained and partnered ways
- It meant to “Trap Noble Gases in Silicate Cages of Various Sizes” at Brookhaven National Lab with professor of physics Kristen Bursen (and yes, that’s the title of her prestigious research grant!)
- It meant to live in Renfrow Hall and live within the legacy of Mrs. Edith Renfrow Smith (1937), the first female Black graduate of ƽ – her 111th birthday is July 14.
- It meant to plan and organize and mobilize with Susan Sanning, Director of Civic Education and Innovation, for the transformative work of the Weingart Civic Innovation Pavilion
To be a ƽian today
- Means to be here for each other, and be interested, and engaging in the daily miracles of a community of inquiry
- It means gathering and celebrating your philanthropy as solidarity with our students, faculty, and staff and alumni to lift up this College
- It means to fight for what we believe in.
As so with that, I will end with words of the 14th-century mystic, Julian of Norwich (as one must!), who, having experienced war, plague, and political upheaval had a vision in which a divine presence came to her in answer to her questions about the human condition. The divine presence, she writes, did not say “you shall not be bothered;” it did not say “you shall not be troubled;” it did not say “you shall not be distressed.” But it did say: “you shall not be overcome.” And I believe that wholeheartedly: we won’t be overcome; not while there are ƽians in the world.