Tears are flowing as I write these words. Just a few moments ago I learned that the leader of every Latina and Latino law professor in the this country is gone. This morning our trailblazer, our champion, and inspiration passed. Sadly, I am not blessed with the skills to express how much he meant to so many of us--how he was our strength, our advisor, and often our harshest critic. He was the country's leading immigration scholar as well as an unmatched expert on law and education, history, diversity, and Latinx diversity in particular (I can hear him now barking at me from up above for writing a made-up Spanish word created by trendy young folk).
I will not go into detail about his scores of amazing articles and books (so honored to have published some of his books in my book series), or his leadership in the AALS, his advisory role in countless national civil rights organizations, or presidency at the University of Houston. I want to spend a moment to share with you his heart. It was as impressive as his brilliance.
When he started in the academy, there were only 22 Latina and Latino law professors. He decided to change the profession and with the partnership of the National Hispanic Bar Association, he created the "Dirty Dozen" list that for over a decade, "outed" the scores of schools that failed to have any Latina and Latino diversity on their tenure track faculty. Many in the academy, including leaders at many top law schools attacked him. While it would later cost him when applying for leadership posts, these largely baseless attacks and facile excuses only motivated our champion. A decade later, there were over 200 of us and our numbers are creeping towards 300 now. With several of us now obliged to pick up his flag.
I am too upset to write further, but all here should know, there is not a single Latina or Latino law professor that was not influenced by him, directly or indirectly. He also helped millions of others---a national leader on public policy issues relating to access to and the right of education, on immigration policy, and on diversity, just to name a few. My greatest honor was when I started in the academy and someone, perhaps foolishly, compared me to him---I wish I could fill a tiny portion of his shoes.
I am pleased a few years ago, I was able to gather many of the country's top scholars to write a book in his honor: The Accidental Historian.
Later I tried to take a small step to follow his leadership and created the Olivas Faculty Recruitment Initiative, where in just over two years we have helped place several law professors at fantastic law schools throughout the country and we maintain an army of mentors and future candidates. He was the mentor of the FRI's very first legal academic.
I am also heartbroken that while struggling, like many of us, with personal and health- related matters, I did not respond to his latest email, asking me why I had "failed to be my usual pugnacious self in many debates in academic circles." I did not want to trouble my hero or let him down with my personal shortcomings--how I regret not once again sparring with my champion---I am blessed to have known, been mentored by and love so much, such a great man.
I will love and miss you forever, mi Cuate. Gracias por cambiar mi vida.
While I could pick a rock song, few may know, he was one a heck of a DJ, or shall I say, podcaster for the young folks, I would assuredly not pick the right song. Or I could quote his scores of prophetic legal predictions, or cite one of his unmatched nationally followed legal analysis, which there were many. Instead, I want to honor him with what a great man wrote about another great man:
O Captain, my Captain
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
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