By Zhao Gu Gammage, Staff Writer
As a seventh grader beginning Latin, I was jubilant, proud to study the language. In my naivety, I jumped at the opportunity to defend the language, not knowing that Caesar enacted a genocide or that the slaves fueled the Roman Empire. As I progressed through the language, I started to realize these truths and even noticed the demographic changes from my middle school Latin class to my AP Latin class: Black students dropped out, leaving only White and Asian students as well as one Latina student (there hadn’t been any Native American students to begin with). Despite my Latin teacher’s inclusive pedagogy and commitment to equity, the demographics of my class, and I concluded this resulted from a systemic problem.
As an Asian senior in high school, I considered if I should pursue classics at the undergraduate level at all. I recognized I may benefit from being Asian in classics, since White and Asian students have more representation in the field, but I still questioned whether I wanted to devote my years to a field that has promoted gatekeeping and been a sign of White supremacy. I contemplated why I would want to uphold Eurocentric history, and the white-washing of so many stories and perspectives.
I began my classical career with enthusiasm, and I received praise from my peers and teachers. I did not face any discrimination, but saw questionable stories in my textbooks. “Servus est ignavus”—The slave is lazy. When I first translated this, I did not think much of it, but when a slavery debate emerged in class, I revisited my thinking. Why would a slave be lazy? Why did I think this was an acceptable representation of an enslaved person? This conversation in class was my first exposure to inequity in classics. Through talking with other classicists, I gained an encompassing understanding of the field.
Last year, I learned about other ways of looking at classics. In February of 2020, I attended OurVoices: A Conference for Inclusive Pedagogy, a conference that promoted diversity within the classroom. My Latin teacher, Tom Di Giulio, invited me to this conference to see the range of approaches that other teachers use to build equity. He himself even presented on developing racial literacy. He requested that I prepare a reflection about what the classics mean to me. I intended to read it to other high school students interested in the classics. However, I was met with an audience of classicists: teachers, professors, graduate students, and undergraduates. I immediately grasped that this conference was for academics, not high schoolers. I was the youngest person there and one of only a few Asian attendees. Even at a conference that promoted diversity, I felt out of place because of my identity. At lunchtime, I was unexpectedly asked to participate in an undergraduate panel. I hesitantly agreed. Sitting beside the other panelists, I listened to their visions for the future and the change they intended to bring about in the field. I participated in this panel, and presented my speech as well.
The next day, I shared my prepared reflection. That morning I was stressing over my words, and felt myself shaking when I walked up to the microphone. My anxiety dissolved midway through the speech. I no longer felt I was talking to intimidating strangers, but rather an accepting community. Once I realized that everyone was focusing on me, my experiences, and my insights, I realized I could impact the field, even if I started with the 50 people in the audience.
After the OurVoices conference, I realized there were other people and events in the field promoting different perspectives on classics. I had a similar experience at the Bi-Co sponsored conference Now & Then: (In)equity and Marginalization in Ancient Mediterranean Studies in March 2021, which included presentations on topics ranging from activism to marginalization and inequity. By exploring silenced voices, the presenters were able to piece together their lives and cultures for the audience. In doing so, we were able to understand a new perspective of life in the ancient world and draw parallels to the modern era.
These talks addressed overlooked perspectives that I, having been excluded solely for being Asian, related to. The keynote speaker, Dr. Emily Greenwood, spoke about anti-racism. Seeing a woman of color speak so powerfully about anti-racism to a majority-White crowd evoked in me the same sense of agency that I felt when I presented at OurVoices. Although at very different positions in our classical careers, I felt that she was speaking to me, encouraging me to do all I could do to change the discipline. Later, Lylaah Bhalerao shared her experience as an activist classicist, describing how she was constantly judged by her skin color rather than her ideas. She raised the question of whether classicists of color can have their contributions acknowledged by the field, or if they will continue to be thought of as just the “race” person. Seeing Bhalerao speak inspired me to think about how classics departments at universities can prevent this stereotype from entering academia.
In deciding to major in classics, I asked multiple professors—all of whom were unsurprisingly White—about how they envision the field as well as their goals for it, and was pleased that most of them cited their efforts of inclusive pedagogy and complained about lack of diversity among the faculty. Some departments cited inclusive classes, clubs, or events, but others hid behind blanket statements, such as, “We’re doing all that we can to address diversity” and, “We are making bold plans to introduce new pedagogy,” without citing specific measures. Although a step in the right direction, these statements hid their inaction, and made me realize the importance of tangible action to address diversity.
Still, I did not have a complete perspective of diversity in the field, so I reached out and talked to an Asian classics student at Kenyon College. She told me how Kenyon’s classics department educated students on racism in the ancient world and highlighted the difference between racism then and now. She explained that classical reception constantly shifts, and that classics departments should adjust accordingly. It gave me confidence that at least some classics departments are progressing towards inclusivity.
Listening to multiple perspectives allowed me to realize that the things that discouraged me about classics are the exact reasons why I should pursue it. Seeing how classicists are trying to make students adopt more inclusive perspectives, I have started to be cognizant of what I learn (and what is left out). In talking with professors and students, I am taking note of the world I will enter in the fall, and contemplating ways I will change my own department.
I am continuing to study classics because I want to redefine the field. I envision conferences like the ones that transformed my perspective becoming a universal cornerstone of a new generation of classicists. I will seek to break down gender and racial stereotypes so that diverse perspectives will be heard. The future of classics shifts towards inclusivity, and it is critical for the next generation to build upon that. With the help of others, I will continue to elevate marginalized voices, and in doing so will elevate classics as a whole. Presenting my speech at the OurVoices in classics conference taught me that I am already a voice in the field. When I arrive at Haverford College this fall, I intend to propel this conversation and become a catalyst for diversifying the field.
Photo credit: Zhao Gu Gammage, HC ’25. Gammage (left) is shown next to her teacher Tom Di Giulo (right). Gammage committed to Haverford College last winter.
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