How a local Latinx makeup artist is transforming music into makeup

Story and gallery by KILEE THOMAS

Just like her bio says on her Twitter profile, Madeline Maldonado is a “local Starbucks barista with bold eye looks.” Maldonado is a Latinx makeup artist and beauty guru from West Jordan, Utah, who is gaining tremendous notoriety and recognition in the online beauty community. Her popularity comes from her creative, bold and artistic makeup looks that are often inspired by her favorite bands, their album covers and merchandise.

“I get inspiration from a bunch of different things, but I think the main thing is music. Just like drawing, you can listen to a song and draw what you’re feeling. It’s the same thing with makeup,” Maldonado said.

Maldonado said music launched her makeup career in September 2018 when she posted a makeup look on Twitter that was inspired by one of the Meet You There Tour posters from Australian band, 5 Seconds of Summer. The band’s lead guitarist, Michael Clifford, retweeted her look and provided Maldonado with a platform and the numbers to gain some major online recognition. As of today, this post has over 18,000 likes.

She approaches her looks like a painter approaches a canvas. Maldonado said the looks can take up to four hours, depending on the amount of detail and how much surface area on her face she is planning to cover with makeup.

Her looks are no small endeavor and makeup rookies should be forewarned. One look can be completed with the use of only one eye shadow palette, while other looks require four or five palettes, she said.

As a member of the Hispanic community, Maldonado said she believes her ethnicity will give her a leg up in the beauty industry. “My culture gives me an advantage. I feel that being a Latina helps inspire a wide range of culturally diverse individuals. It helps me connect with creators from all around the world and as I create a platform for myself, I aspire to spread cultural awareness through my message and my art,” she said.

She said she believes the makeup industry is growing in terms of diversity, but there’s still a lot of room to go. “All different types of people do makeup now, but the first makeup artist I started watching was Jaclyn Hill (one of the leading makeup personalities on YouTube). Because she had blue eyes, so many colors complemented them and it made me hate my dark brown eyes because the makeup didn’t make my eyes pop like hers did,” Maldonado said.

“My plan is to begin a YouTube channel where I am able to explicitly teach and inspire others. My hope is to create a diverse community where people can express their feelings, creativity and spread positivity,” Maldonado said.

According to Forbes, “It’s never been a better time to be a beauty entrepreneur.” And for good reason. The beauty industry is one of the largest markets in the sales industry, which is why it’s the perfect place for “women to self-start their way to big-time success,” according to Forbes.

Statista reports that in 2016, the cosmetics industry in the United States generated more than $62.46 billion and that videos on YouTube containing beauty-related content were viewed more than 169 billion times in 2018.

Maldonado said she believes YouTube and social media are the future of makeup. “You definitely need to have a large social following to get started. I think I could do makeup for a long time and not get a big response or recognition until someone with millions of followers notices me. That’s what sucks about the way the beauty industry is going. It’s not just about talent,” she said.

Anyone who takes a quick glance at her Instagram feed, which is jam packed with colorful makeup looks that resemble art more than they do makeup, could tell you that she has a gift. But, it wasn’t always this way, Maldonado said.

Maldonado said she has always been artistic. She danced her whole life, loved her painting and drawing classes in high school, but she didn’t have any idea that makeup would end up being her creative outlet.

She credits her older sister, Marisa Barber, for being the source of inspiration to get her started in makeup. “I had zero clue what I wanted to do after high school. I was a little lost until one day I was going through my sister’s makeup and took interest,” Maldonado said.

Barber is proud of her little sister’s accomplishments and said she believes she has the skill to be a successful social media influencer. “There is a huge platform set for these aspiring makeup artists and I feel that all Maddie needs to do to make it big is the right equipment. She definitely has the talent and personality to be entertaining,” Barber said in a text.

Until Maldonado creates her YouTube channel, she does recreational and experimental makeup looks for her close friends and family. Whether it be for senior pictures, portraits or her personal favorite, Halloween, she “creates a story with meaning behind it. The masterpieces she paints on faces are beautiful,” Barber said in a text.

Maldonado’s older sister is one of the people she feels comfortable experimenting her beauty looks on. Barber said she feels that her sister is always professional when she is sitting in her makeup chair. “She always makes sure that I am happy with my look by constantly checking throughout the process how I am feeling and self-assessing her work,” she said.

Barber appreciates how open Maldonado is to new ideas and collaboration when it comes to her clients, but thinks letting Maldonado work her magic without outside input generates the best results. “For me, I like having her work freely on my face. She gets in a zen type of state and the work she produces is magical,” Barber said.

Leigh Ventura, a previous makeup client of Maldonado’s, said she is in awe of how Maldonado takes a piece of art to new levels. “Most people, like myself, would just see the album cover and try to use the shades of the colors to create a look, but she does more than that. She thinks outside of the box and I think she actually goes into character. I’m a big fan of her work, huge,” Ventura said in a text.

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Maldonado was inspired to create this look after watching 5 Seconds of Summer’s Valentine music video. Photo courtesy of Madeline Maldonado.

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Maldonado created this makeup look based on the band BTS’ “Love Yourself: Answer” album cover. Photo courtesy of Madeline Maldonado.

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 Maldonado spent five hours creating this floral makeup look based on Shawn Mendes’ self-titled album. Photo courtesy of Madeline Maldonado.

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Maldonado spent four hours creating this look. The look was inspired by 5 Seconds of Summer’s Meet You There Tour Live album cover. Photo courtesy of Madeline Maldonado. 

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 Maldonado created this makeup look based on the Meet You There Tour Poster. Photo courtesy of Madeline Maldonado. 

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The products used to create Maldonado’s Shawn Mendes self-titled album makeup look, sprawled out across her vanity.

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Maldonado created this stormy eye look after listening to Forever Rain, written by RM of BTS. Photo courtesy of Madeline Maldonado. 

Latinos in Action member setting an example and breaking stereotypes

Story and gallery by EMMA JOHNSON

Yuritzi Huerta Campos is an 18-year-old senior at Jordan High School. Campos is the first U.S. citizen in her family. Both of her parents were born and raised in Mexico. Her parents moved to Utah before her and her two sisters were born in hopes of giving them a better life with more opportunities.

Campos joined Latinos In Action (LIA) four years ago when she was s freshman at Jordan High School. According to the Latinos in Action national webpage, there are LIA groups established in eight states, in over 200 schools, with 8,000-plus total student members.

Campos’ two older sisters participated in LIA when they attended school. She saw how their student involvement with LIA changed their high school experience. Hispanic cultures dedicate great respect to their rich heritage. Yuritzi appreciated how LIA also allowed her sisters to express and honor their culture through a public group. She says joining LIA has made them all feel like they are a part of something bigger. “Being able to give out a part of ourselves and serve other is what I love,” Campos says.

“In school, you have a place you belong,” she says when talking about why she decided to join LIA when starting high school. Latinos In Action was created in 2001 in Provo, Utah, by Jose Enrique. According to the Latinos In Action webpage when Enrique was in high school, he recognized the lack of programs created for Latinx students to participate in.

After high school, Enrique attended Brigham Young University and earned a bachelor’s degree in Education and Spanish, a master’s degree in Educational Leadership and a Ph.D. in Educational Leadership.

Enrique became an administrator himself and was again reminded of the lack of academic resources available to Latinx students. He felt Latinx youth were often disengaged at school and shunned for their cultural heritage. The disconnect was unacceptable in his eyes, so he created the Latinos In Action.

Matthew Bell, a foreign language teacher at Jordan High School, said in an email that the Latinos In Action program was first presented to Jordan High nearly 10 years ago by founder Jose Enriquez. “Through the presentation, we immediately saw this program as an opportunity to help Latino Heritage students become more involved in the school and in their community,” Bell says. “Another selling point was the strong emphasis the program placed on post-secondary study and achievement.”

Campos says she feels her LIA membership has gotten more impactful as the years have progressed. When LIA was first introduced to her school, she says it wasn’t widely known or understood. “We wanted to change that,” Campos says. Now, LIA hosts assemblies and plays a role in the Student Government program.

The Latinos In Action program emphasizes serving the community. Campos and her LIA classmates spend two days a week at a nearby special-needs school, Jordan Valley, where they help those with severe disabilities communicate through an assisted software called EagleEyes.

EagleEyes is a mouse replacement system for the computer that tracks eye movement and converts it into mouse movement. The system is primarily used to assist those who are profoundly disabled. Campos spends a few hours a week helping different students learn and communicate through the software.

She says her time spent using EagleEyes has changed her life. Debbie Inkley, Executive Director of OFOA says “The EagleEyes-LIA Program changes lives.” Inkely expresses the beauty of the two groups working together. She says it’s changing the volunteer’s lives through their service but giving the Jordan Valley students the peer experience of a lifetime.

LIA values have influenced all aspects of Campos’ life. “LIA setting self aside to help others grow, to build a stronger community.” She is planning on attending Utah Valley University for a year then she hopes to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The service opportunities through LIA has played into her decision to serve a mission and her decision to help people better their lives.

The Latinos In Action program was created to empower Latinx youth through their culture and prepare them for college and leadership opportunities. “We can be perceived as minority, going on a lot about drugs and criminals and all that stuff but we’re really not here to do that. We are here to show the best of ourselves,” Campos says.

LIA activity has shown Campos’ classmates what LIA is all about. She says many of her LIA peers were raised with very little. Most of their parents moved to the States to give their children a better life and a chance at an education. She says LIA helps her show her peers that you don’t have to come from much to break commonly believed stereotypes.

Campos uses her LIA membership to show everyone around her that your time and energy can be spent how you choose and that not all Hispanics fall under brutal stereotypes. She says, “We can show we aren’t that and that we can show love and give service.”

Photos courtesy of Opportunity Foundation of America.

Editor-in-chief in his veins

Story and gallery by Kara D. Rhodes

Utah loves local culture especially in Salt Lake Valley, from the local farmers market and local breweries to our very own local newspapers. One of the most popular independent newspapers in Salt Lake City, Salt Lake City Weekly, has a stellar editor-in-chief you may not be aware of. Enrique Limón moved to the city after having lived in Tijuana, Mexico, and San Diego.

Limón comes from a long line of “newspapermen,” as he describes it. “My great grandfather, Hernando Limón, a general in the Mexican Army, was editor and publisher of a bilingual weekly in the SD/TJ (San Diego/Tijuana) region generations ago,” Limón says in an email interview. His family is very proud of this achievement, especially his mother.

Being Latinx is described by Limón as being an “invaluable tool.” This includes his language skills, current event knowledge and pop history knowledge. Limón wakes up every day with the energy to excel in his duties. “Careers in media are notorious for burning people out, so thinking about every day as a new adventure, is my accomplishment,” he says.

Not only is Limón a part of the Latinx community but he is also a member of the LGBTQ community. “I am aware of representation issues within those two communities (and beyond), and I do my best to contribute,” Limón says. He also explains how it shapes his day-to-day routine. Although there are many challenges one faces by being in both communities, Limón says he wouldn’t trade being a part of them for anything.  

Limón, like others, has concerns about the Latinx/LGBTQ community. “Higher risk of homelessness, drug addiction, and other life-altering situations. There is a good number of crimes against people on DACA, for example, that never go reported in this country, because victims think doing so might affect their immigration status. It’s heartbreaking,” Limón says.

Limón suggests several ways that Utah could better serve the Latinx/LGBTQ communities, including creating safe spaces, so that people may be themselves without fear of harm or ridicule. A larger spread of gay-straight alliances is important as well. “Normalization, ensuring kids don’t feel ostracized because of something that’s embedded in who they are, should become second-nature,” Limón says. Multiple organizations in Salt Lake City offer programs, such as Encircle and the Utah Pride Center.

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“Everyone could benefit by being a little kinder — parents, schoolmates, teachers, clergy, etc.,” he says.

Limón concludes by giving praise in an email. “Congrats to The University of Utah. For Voices of Utah, Westminster College for their office of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, and other educational institutions across the state for highlighting the importance of inclusiveness. Your efforts are positively affecting people, especially young people, in ways you might never know.”

Nick McGregor, a City Weekly employee, has worked with Limón for one year. “Enrique’s background and position at City Weekly help him think outside the box and seek out underrepresented voices to make sure they’re present,” McGregor says in an email interview. Having worked with over 25 editors in his 13 years of journalism, McGregor says he believes that what sets Limón apart from the numerous editors before is his passion for the city as well as his audience.  

Another City Weekly employee, Namoi Clegg, praises Limón, “Enrique is always willing to work with new ideas and people. He also has high expectations, which is a good thing, I think. You damn well better be prepared, because he is not putting up with bullshit from staff or writers. I think his skills really lie in the curation and community-building aspect of the paper,” Clegg says in an email interview.

Clegg says there is no doubt that Limón’s background plays a role in the way he is an editor. “Enrique is a gay, Latinx man. He’s also an excellent editor. It feels reductive to say that Enrique is an excellent editor because of his personal characteristics; at the same time, his background gives him a much-needed perspective that a white, straight man would most likely lack,” Clegg says.

When asked about her thoughts on diversifying the newsroom Clegg had a lot to say. “I really strongly believe that our lived experiences — as women or LGBT folks or people of color — allow us to see angles and stories that are really difficult to pick up on for people who haven’t been marginalized. It’s really, really easy to miss small pieces of the story, pieces that are really essential to the people living the story but pieces that privilege often doesn’t allow us to see, even if we’re doing a lot of work to get outside of our preconceived notions.”

Limón shows that where one comes from is a strength and should be used to one’s best ability. 

 

You are not crazy: Mental health stigma among Latinx community

Story and photos by SAYAKA KOCHI

One of the frequently discussed topics is that Latinx people are less likely to seek mental health treatment by themselves. Even when they are suffering from severe mental disorders, asking someone for help isn’t easy. There are several reasons why they cannot signal SOS.

“I didn’t want to admit that I was not OK,” Diana Aguilera said. Aguilera was born in Mexico and moved to Utah at age 10. She is a Peer Programs coordinator at the Latino Behavioral Health Services (LBHS) located at 3471 S. West Temple in Salt Lake City. LBHS is a nonprofit organization for unserved Latinx and Hispanic Utah citizens with mental illnesses, co-founded by Jacqueline Gomez-Arias and other contributors.

Before Aguilera became involved in LBHS, she had been suffering from depression, triggered by a harsh breakup. Because of her mental breakdown, she said she gave up school, her desire to be a social worker, and full-time work.

“I went to bed every day and like ‘please, don’t wake up anymore.’ I asked my body to give up because I couldn’t literally go on anymore,” Aguilera said. “I didn’t like to talk about it. I tried to hide it. Because I didn’t want my family to feel guilty.”

While she was ignoring her mental breakdown, she started volunteering at LBHS to help others in 2015. There, she said she met people with depression and those who have overcome their mental illnesses. Through being with them, she said she could finally acknowledge that she had to seek help.

“I met one of the founding members, Jacqueline [Gomez-Arias]. She was so open about her mental health issues. Through the conversation with her, she was like ‘you need help. You have depression. You have to seek help,’” Aguilera said. “Hearing from her, it was reassuring that it’s OK, I’ll be fine.”

With the help of Gomez-Arias and Aguilera’s sister, she was able to find a therapist and start fighting against her depression. At this point, health insurance is one of the main reasons that Latinx people cannot seek treatment. According to a report by the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), one-third of Latinx immigrants are uninsured.

“I was really lucky and privileged that I had health insurance. Not everyone has health insurance. Not everyone can afford a therapist,” Aguilera said.

After several years of taking multiple medications and attending therapy, she said her mental health slowly but steadily recovered.

“Right now, I’m doing very well,” Aguilera said. “I don’t think that is a magic thing. It’s just a huge combination of everything.”

Aguilera also explained the importance of belonging in the community. “I’ve gone through therapy but that wasn’t super enough. For my recovery, I needed my community. Latino Behavioral has been my community. That was the most important thing for me.”

Like Aguilera, Carla Astorga had also suffered from mental breakdown for a few decades. Astorga was born and raised in Lima, Peru, which was a “corrupted” place for her to live. Through a lot of traumatic events from her childhood, Astorga said that her mind was broken. To escape from such a harsh environment, she said she decided to move to Utah in 2005.

“I didn’t recognize my symptoms at first. I felt sadness for whole days. So I didn’t know that it became a depression,” Astorga said.

Ten years had passed since she escaped from her country, but she said her symptoms reached such a level that she couldn’t stand them anymore.

“Anxiety, depression, panic attack, paranoid, fear — everything was starting to growing up and growing up,” Astorga said. “I started to see things that were not there. One day, I was driving to send my kids to school. After that, I went to the police station, because I smelled a bomb in my car. Police checked my car, but there was no bomb.”

At this moment, Astorga said she realized for the first time that she had a mental illness. She then decided to take treatment. As a first step, she came to visit LBHS to pull herself out of the darkness. She said she also took psychiatric medication, therapy, and some training provided by NAMI, which is the nation’s largest mental health organization. Over a couple of years going through hard times, she could finally overcome her mental disorder.

“The most successful part of my recovery was to be able to find one place with my own culture and language that I could feel like I was at home,” Astorga said.

Ever since her symptoms improved, she has been helping people at LBHS as a peer supporter and at NAMI as a Wasatch/Summit affiliate leader.

“I didn’t see enough sources with my own language in my area. Latino people need more sources for mental health,” Astorga said. “When I was getting recovered, I started to be aware that I had confidence and trusted myself. So I started thinking that I wanted to help other people.”

Astorga said a lack of knowledge is the main issue for Latinx people when they develop mental illnesses.

“In my culture, if you go to a psychologist or a doctor to take medicines, you are crazy,” Astorga said.

As Astorga pointed out, finding a peer mentor who has the same cultural background is really hard for underrepresented minorities.

Laiyan Bawadeen, a counseling intern for international students at the University of Utah, addressed this cultural difference issue from a counselor’s perspective.

“To address cultural differences in general, it is important that a counselor uses a multicultural viewpoint where they approach counseling through the context of the student’s world and culture while their own values or bias is not more important than that of the student,” Bawadeen said in an email interview.

Bawadeen is half Taiwanese and half Sri Lankan, and she is pursuing her master’s degree in clinical and mental health counseling at the U. As a member of the minority group, Bawadeen also suggested the importance of correct knowledge about mental treatment.

“I think demystifying what mental health [is], understanding what a counseling session looks like and what to expect can help demystify the counseling process, remove the stigma around mental health and make it easier for individuals to seek help,” Bawadeen said.

Seeking help is not easy for Latinx and other minority people. This might be because of the language barrier, not having health insurance, stigma, or caring so much about families or those who are closest to them. However, at some point, they need help.

Astorga said, “Latino[x] people are very strong. They were fighters or warriors. So they say they can do this alone, but they can’t.”

 

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Bicultural struggles: Life in Latinx shoes

Story and photo by ZANE LAW

The Latinx community has taken on the challenge of raising bicultural children, allowing their kids to venture from familial norms. While many Latinx immigrants came to the United States as solely Spanish speakers and Latin-embodied individuals, their kids and younger generations are transitioning to a more Americanized way of life. From bilingual speech to the foods they eat to the clothes they wear, everything can change before a parent’s eyes. Many parents struggle with this process. 

Shane Macfarlan, a well-published anthropologist and assistant professor at the University of Utah, said culture is an “integrated system of symbolically encoded conceptual phenomena that is socially and historically transmitted within and between populations.” 

To put this mouthful in far simpler terms, Macfarlan said culture is an intertwined web of knowledge that gives meaning to acts and things. This explanation says that culture is a set of thoughts and beliefs that allow Americans to know an extended hand as an attempted handshake, burgers and hotdogs as go-to barbecue/party foods, and the word football as a game played with pads and a helmet instead of a soccer ball and cleats. These words, gestures, and foods did not have an assigned meaning or context until a group of folks came together and decided it to be this way. 

This definition and concept are described by Macfarlan as being both a blessing and a curse for immigrants. While culture allows people to bond with each other, coordinate activities, and hang onto loved traditions, the integration of a foreign culture can also be a challenge. He said that because of the “integrated system” aspect of his culture definition, “changing one aspect of someone’s culture can inadvertently change other aspects as well.” 

For example, a bilingual home would allow someone to communicate openly with friends and family of different cultures, while also giving folks a leg up in terms of job qualifications. Bilingual individuals are always needed in the job force and are in high demand, so being raised in that environment is helpful.

A parent of a bilingual child would most likely be happy to see their kid grow up with more opportunities, but because a language was added to the child’s life, Macfarlan’s definition says that other aspects of their family’s culture are able to change as well. The parent may struggle to keep their kid speaking Spanish, enjoying the same foods, or practicing the same traditions. 

Andrea Ibanez, however, said in a video chat that she had a different experience. An Argentinian-born woman who has now lived in California for about 40 years, said that when she moved to the U.S. as a child, her mom wanted them to learn English in order to be successful. Mama Ibanez would speak to Andrea in English whenever she got the chance, wanting to pick up on school-learned knowledge. There were fewer Latinx individuals in the U.S. and Spanish speakers were not as sought after, so the Ibanez family was trying hard to focus on acculturation rather than enculturation. English was key and Spanish fell to second best. 

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Andrea and her kids enjoy a nice, Argentinian meal.

This cultural identity and monolingual predicament strained Ibanez’s relationship with her own daughter. She continued with her English-only mindset until she realized the benefits of being bilingual. Ibanez said she began giving Spanish lessons to her daughter when she turned 16, but by then it was too late. Her daughter always thought that speaking Spanish was difficult and embarrassing. They would reply to each other in different languages and argue for hours about the benefits and the embarrassments of each side.

With so much pressure to fit into “the crowd” at younger ages, there is a huge decision to be made. Latinx individuals are able to conform to American society and leave large portions of their culture behind, refuse to assimilate and fall back on ethnic ties, or accept both cultures the same and effectively communicate with both communities.

According to a 2014 study, “ethnic minority individuals may engage in frame switching (switching between their dual cultural identities in response to cultural cues as needed).” While this style is ideal, being able to communicate with different people and understand the values, beliefs, and norms of each, it is much easier said than done. 

Rebecca Chavez-Houck, a former Utah House of Representatives legislator and mother of two, speaks of the trials of being a mother to bicultural children. Her kids practiced the first assimilation option, joining their friends and forgetting their Hispanic roots.

She explained that while teens already tend to pull away from their parents, as a mechanism of growth and independence-gaining, the pushback is “augmented and amplified when dealing with a Latino kid.” She said that kids simply want to fit in with friends and are embarrassed by roots that are not common within peer groups. They do not fully know who they are or what values are important to them yet.

While Chavez-Houck did struggle with her kids’ personal growth, she said the transition is easier for the parents and children when the community is there to support and foster a wholesome experience. According to a 2018 Salt Lake Tribune story, there are 440,000 Latinx community members now residing in Utah.

Being able to stay in touch with roots and complete a smooth transition to biculturalism, based on Chavez-Houck’s statement, is becoming easier as Latinx populations increase statewide.

 

Why the Latinx community is migrating to Utah

Story and photo by KILEE THOMAS

For five years in the 1990s, Alex Guzman provided the voice-over for Tony the Tiger in Latin America. That was just one of the jobs Guzman held during a long career in Guatemala working in marketing for the international advertising agency Leo Burnett and La Prensa Libre newspaper.

He was a recently elected senator in Latin America. But, he still couldn’t escape the threat of violence in his home country, regardless of his success. Guzman’s wife and children were nearly kidnapped. For the sake of their safety, they had to leave. The family immigrated to Utah 11 years ago because his daughter was already going to college in the state and it made sense to keep the family together.

Like Guzman, many immigrants choose to migrate to Utah because one or more family members already resides here. According to the American Immigration Council, one in 12 Utah residents is a native-born U.S. citizen with at least one immigrant parent.

In 2017, the Migration Policy Institute, reported that Utah’s population was composed of 8.7 percent of immigrants and 57.5 percent of those foreign-born residents were of the Latinx community.  

Similarly to most Utah immigrants, Guzman had to start all over from the bottom up in a new country, new culture and new language. Today he is president and CEO of the Utah Hispanic Chamber of Commerce. Despite the obstacles he faced, Guzman said he never forgot his passion and drive. “If the second door is closed, I want to make doors,” he said.

Guzman isn’t the only one who fled to Utah to escape the violence of their home country in an effort save their family.

Bryan Misael Vivas Rosas, a 25-year-old from Venezuela, had to leave everything behind to support his family. “The dictatorship of Maduro has the country almost in a civil war. People are starving, being shot, robbed. It’s not safe to walk down the street in the middle of the day, let alone at night,” Rosas said.

He left at the end of 2016 and moved to Utah to stay with a family friend until he got on his feet. “I had to leave my parents, my sister, good work opportunities and almost all of my possessions,” Rosas said.

Now as a self-made audio sound engineer in West Jordan, he has the opportunity and resources to financially aid his family back home, as well as his sister who has recently migrated from Venezuela to Utah in order to be closer to him.

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Bryan Misael Vivas Rosas working at an event as a DJ. Photo courtesy of Bryan Misael Vivas Rosas.

According to the American Migration Council, Utah’s largest Hispanic immigrant population comes from Mexico, which makes up more than 43.2 percent of all immigrants residing in Utah. Like the 105,998 Mexican-born immigrants living in Utah, Clara Miramontes’s family immigrated to Utah from Mexico because of an already established family member living here.

Miramontes was only 5 years old when her family left Mexico to live with her mother’s sister in Magna, Utah, and although she said she doesn’t remember much of the immigration process, she remembers the expectations going in. “When moving to a new country, you have high hopes or else, you would feel like you’d never make it,’ she said.

At 17, she’s a soon-to-be graduate of Cyprus High School with a full-time scholarship in hand to attend Westminster College in fall 2019 to pursue her dream of becoming a doctor. She also works along with her mother as a peer mentor at Matheson Junior High.

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Clara Miramontes assisting a student at Matheson Junior High. 

Miramontes said she believes she puts in the effort to make full use of her opportunities now because she doesn’t want her family’s sacrifices to go to waste. “My parents gave up more than me. They gave up their career, their family, their livelihood just to give me and my siblings a better life,” she said.

Although many immigrants come to the United States to pursue better opportunities, the immigration process and politics surrounding it have caused issues. Miramontes said she believes the topic of immigration would be less controversial if it was seen from a more understanding approach and perspective.

She said she hopes for more compassion from people. “I wish people knew that we are not here to take everyone’s jobs or do illegal things. Some of us want to live a better life and have a prosperous future. I think all of the sacrifices people make to come here should be appreciated and taken into account,” Miramontes said.

During the government shutdown that lasted from Dec. 22, 2018, until Jan. 25, 2019, Alex Guzman said some 35,000 applications for immigration were placed to the side. Consequently, he said, it will take 10 years to solve and reprocess those applications.

And although it will take time to fix, Guzman doesn’t think there is anything that will stop immigration from happening in Utah or the United States.“There will always be a ladder taller than that wall,” Guzman said about the structure that President Trump seeks to have built along the U.S.-Mexico border.

 

What you think about when you think about Latin Food

Story and photos by SHAUN AJAY

Latin American cuisine is sometimes seen as synonymous with your neighborhood taco or burrito stand. A restaurant in Virginia discusses in an article how most of our perceptions of Mexican food are inaccurate. Dishes we typically think about aren’t really Mexican, but a fusion between American and Mexican food. Not all Latin food is fried. Not all Latin food is tortillas with beans and rice. Yes, Mexico is on the list, but it isn’t the sole contributor to this rich and diverse culture of Latin food. In every South American country, there is a specific regional taste.

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Taqueria Los Lee is a small family business at 700 E. 2646 South in Salt Lake City. The restaurant is a building in the corner of the street, beside a Sinclair gas station. The menu is drawn in primary colors on a blackboard. The daughter of the owner suggested a plate of tacos and gorditas with rice and beans (frijoles) and un medio litro de Cola (half liter). A fitting size meal for an ordinary customer.

The restaurant has little paper cutouts of cacti, sombreros and chilis colorfully hung up on the ceiling. The walls are covered with little lotería cards: a red sun, a scorpion, some palm trees. The whole thing feels like a summer’s breeze in mid-July in the chilly month of February.

A plate of gorditas with rice and frijoles.

The order arrives in 15 minutes, steaming and carrying a strong aroma of fried garlic and cilantro. Frijoles is a doughy sauce made from pinto beans boiled for six hours on low-fire. The gordita (meaning chubby in Spanish) drips some rich oil like liquid gold on a ceramic plate.

Oscar Lee, the patriarch of the restaurant, has his lunch break before his interview. He is from Victoria City in Tamaulipas, Mexico, a state historically known for its agricultural and livestock prosperity. He used to live by the border near Texas and immigrated to the United States. He has lived in Utah for nearly 17 years and has been running his restaurant since July 2018.

Lee wanted to cater to his area and provide what he believes is authentic Mexican food. The demographic of his customers is true to this fact, during lunch hour, the restaurant is occupied by Spanish speakers. But after an article written by the Salt Lake Tribune, he has had more gringos (an American who is not Latinx) visit his restaurant and even become regular customers.

He turns and faces the menu on the blackboard and, like a school teacher, starts to explain his menu. He said their las gorditas is their most popular dish, with either homemade asada (roasted pork or chicken) or potatoes stuffed inside. But he prefers to snack on something a little more sweet called esquites. This is a dish made with corn, freshly cut from the grain, that is mixed with margarine and fresh cheese in a cup.

Lee said that red enchiladas are his most special dish. He makes them with corn tortillas, fresh cheese, ground beef and a red chili sauce. He prefers to not make this too spicy. Another special dish is chicken mole. It mixes chicken breasts with some chocolate and peanuts. Genuine chicken mole takes days to make with additional ingredients. He said that ready-made mole is available, but he prefers making everything from scratch.

Shortly after the restaurant opened, Lee said he was approached by Sysco, a food distribution company, to provide him with menu ingredients. He refused to take the offer, as they were all ready-made and only involved putting them in the oven. “It takes the authenticity from cooking, and from the food,” he said. Lee believes in making his ingredients daily to preserve the authenticity of his cuisine that reminds him and many others of home.

EL SALVADOR

Juanita Restaurant is a small family-owned business at 271 W. 900 South in Salt Lake City. The restaurant specializes in classic Salvadorian food. Carolina Vides, the daughter of the owners, was born in Cabañas, Sensuntepeque. Her family moved to the U.S. in the 1990s and opened this restaurant only four years ago. The restaurant business has always been a part of the Vides family, having run another in Salvador, cooking and making the same pupusas that they love.

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A look inside Juanita’s restaurant

Juanita’s is designed with dark maroon and bright yellow wall paint. Diners can take a seat by the television screen in the corner that broadcasts the Premier League with Spanish commentary. Vides then sits down to talk about the menu — a wide selection of main dishes, appetizers and finger snacks to try.

Pupusas, you should go for the pupusas,” she said. They are a typical Salvadorian snack made from either rice or corn flour. Her favorite is the corn flour. Vides said the pupusas are a staple diet in El Salvador, having been passed down from generation to generation. The fillings are versatile and can be made with anything from chicharron (pork skin) to frijol con queso (beans with cheese). She offered an assorted plate of mini pupusas.

Vides said most people confuse this with Mexican gorditas. Most of her customers are either Mexican or Guatemalan. She places the pupusas on the table beside a tub of curtido, or coleslaw, and a bottle of spicy tomato sauce that complements the meaty pupusas.

For the main dish, she presented a plate of mojarra frita (fried fish) with green salad, rice, and tortillas. The fish is a fresh-water tilapia, cooked till a dark brown like charred wood, but the inside remained a creamy white texture. The restaurant also sells bottles of Kola Champagne by Cuzcatlan, a classic soft drink with a sweet mix of orange syrup and carbonated soda. It leaves a refreshing taste in the mouth.

While patrons feast on the tenderness of their tilapia or pupusas, Vides is usually tending to other customers, flipping tortillas on a hot pan, or taking orders on the phone. One can leave the restaurant feeling very satisfied.

PERU

Giulia Soto is a second-year program coordinator and advisor at the Center for Ethnic Student Affairs (CESA) at the University of Utah. She comes from an indigenous family from Huancayo, in the central highlands of Peru. Soto immigrated to West Valley City at age 5, during the sendero luminoso era, a Communist party during the 1990s that wanted to overrun the government. Her father was able to come to the U.S. and was given a work visa to live in the mountains as a shepherd.

“Since my family is indigenous, it affects . . . how I was brought up, and the foods that I eat,” Soto said. Her diet is completely Peruvian. That was all she knew of during her younger years. The most common dishes for her are arroz chaufa, lomo saltado, and pollo a la brasa.

Arroz chaufa (Chinese rice) and lomo saltado are a mixed style of Chinese fried rice and vegetables with typical meats like pork, chicken or beef. Soto said that most of their dishes use white rice, potatoes and chicken. “We laugh about this sometimes, because a lot of people connect this to the Asian community,” she said. Her favorite dish to make is aji de gallina (chicken stew) that combines rice, potatoes and aji de gallina (yellow capsicum). Soto said this dish is usually considered to be Peruvian comfort food. 

Soto in front of her Huancayo displays

A common ingredient across the board is pimiento y comino (black pepper). Another is aji panca, a hot red capsicum that’s not too spicy, and is used as a paste when making food like tallarin rojo (Peruvian red spaghetti). All of these spices are indigenous to Peru and are the trademark for its dishes.

La Pequeñita International market at 2740 State St. is owned by a Peruvian in Salt Lake City. It provides imported ingredients from Latin America to the locals in Utah. Soto said she sometimes sees people driving down from Idaho and buying these ingredients in bulk. “You have to be savvy at cooking, cuz it’s just aisles and aisles of herbs and spices, and you should know what to use it for,” she said.

Pachamanca peruana is a popular dish from the mountainous regions of Peru. Pacha means earth and manka means pot in Quechua, the indigenous language of Soto’s family, spoken in the highlands. The dish is made for special occasions like family gatherings or fundraisers, as it requires extreme preparation.

Soto said that the pachamanca is usually comprised of marinated sheep meat, camote (sweet potato) and humitas (fresh corn with dough). She also noted that humitas is usually mistaken for tamal, a Mesoamerican dish, that tastes savory and usually has stuffings like chicken inside. The pachamanca begins with heating stones over a fire, and then placing everything into a natural oven dug from the ground, cooking the meat for about two hours.

Soto said that the pachamanca is not something you would see at a restaurant in Lima, let alone in a Peruvian restaurant in Salt Lake City. The pachamanca is only maintained as a tradition through teaching the next generation how it’s done. However, one way to grab a taste, without buying your next ticket to Peru is to attend fundraisers.

In Utah, Peruvian families come together and do fundraisers for the community where they make and sell food and sometimes host soccer tournaments. “It’s a way for us to help each other out, someone who’s had a car accident or immigration issues,” Soto said. There are at least 15-20 fundraisers in the summer between the months of June and August that she attends. 

The Peruvian community in Utah typically hosts its fundraisers at what it calls “parque canipaco,” or Parkway Park, in West Valley City. These fundraisers not only help the community at large for Peruvians, but also is a way of keeping their tradition alive through food and celebration. For more information about these fundraisers, contact Soto at giulia.soto@utah.edu.

 

Juan Chacon, a Mexican immigrant turned restaurant owner

Story and photo by KILEE THOMAS

Situated in Kearns, Utah, is the authentic Mexican restaurant, Acapulco. The family-run and -operated restaurant opened 1991 at its original location (just a few blocks away) before reopening at its current location at 4722 4015 West. 

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Acapulco Mexican restaurant is particularly known for its smothered burrito.

Juan Chacon, a 61-year-old Mexican immigrant, is the man behind the popular eatery, Acapulco. Chacon sat in a corner booth toward the rear of his restaurant.

The atmosphere has a homey and nostalgic feeling with its giant box TV screening the latest American football game, the tables filled with endless chips and salsa baskets and the walls covered with hanging swordfish, sombreros, original Hispanic paintings as well as a giant mural of the ocean that takes up the entirety of the back wall.

He looks around his restaurant with a warm smile before taking off his Houston baseball cap.

Chacon believed fate intervened with his journey to the United States. “It’s destiny, I guess,” Chacon said. He wasn’t escaping violence or seeking asylum. He saw it as a simple opportunity to live a different life.

He left his family farm in Chihuahua, Mexico, in 1978 when he was 20 years old. He wasn’t searching for valued success, he was searching for purpose. “I didn’t need money, I wanna do something,” Chacon said.

He started working at a Chinese restaurant in Salt Lake City when he arrived in Utah before going back to his home town to spend time with his father for three months. When Chacon returned to Salt Lake City later that year, he landed a job at a Mexican restaurant where he worked the food line in the kitchen.

Chacon said this is where he learned how to run a restaurant. When he decided to leave the restaurant, he took a souvenir on his way out. “I stole the menu thinking, ‘one day I want to start my own restaurant,’” he said.

Chacon decided to open up the authentic Mexican restaurant with his brother to be his own boss and do things “my way,” he said. He reaches over, grabs the baseball hat and places it back on his head. “I believe to run a business, the first thing you have to do is work hard,” Chacon said.

He might be the owner, but he is also the dishwasher, cook, waiter and host. “I don’t get tired of working here everyday because I use to do this, but I use to do it for somebody else.” He points at the clock. “I can leave when I want, but I stay later than supposed to because I love talking with our customers.”

This type of friendly and outgoing energy is what’s kept Tiffanie and Rob Hargis loyal customers for the past 22 years. “We go at least one to two times a week. Their family always know when we are there and they come out to talk to us to see how we are doing,” she said.

The Hargises always make it a point to go to Acapulco for all of their family celebrations and get-togethers. “We have so many special memories tied to this restaurant. We have been going here for so many years after lacrosse practices and games, for birthdays and holidays,” Rob said.

Chacon and his family have built a special relationship with their customers. A relationship that goes past the usual bond between restaurant owner and customer; a relationship that feels more like family.

“When our parents passed away we gave them a huge picture for their wall that was in our parents’ house and it looks great in there. It’s like part of our family is there,” Tiffanie said. The southwestern picture of a pink sand-colored home and dusty pink sky is hung up in the back corner of the restaurant.

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Tiffanie and Rob Hargis donated the painting to the restaurant. Photo courtesy of Rob Hargis.

While the success of Chacon’s restaurant is something to be proud of, the journey that led him to where he is today wasn’t an easy one. It was costly.

When he first came to Utah, he bought a new $1,700 truck with the money that he had saved. The INS, otherwise known as ICE today, took away his truck after he was pulled over and asked for legal documentation.

Chacon paused for a moment. Becoming emotional from the pain of this memory, he said, “I still remember their faces.” Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and shakes his head as if to shake away the memory.

“They told me it wasn’t my car anymore. It belongs to the U.S. Government.” Chacon said he remembers feeling hopeless because the officers warned him not to get lawyers involved. He said the agents told him it would be a useless ploy that would cost him more than what he’d already lost.

“In Mexico, they always talk about freedom in the U.S. and that day, I found out it wasn’t really true,” he said.

He smiles as a way to relieve the built-up emotion in the room.

“I still have the truck’s title,” he said with a laugh.

Chacon may believe that the restaurant and his life today is in thanks to some sort of  divine intervention or fate, but his beloved family and customers think his determination to learn, fight against adversity head on and to live life “his way” is the center and heart of why Acapulco is the favorite restaurant to so many, even 27 years later.

Minorities brighten up the future of science and technology

Story and photo by SAYAKA KOCHI

STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) is a key field for innovations. As demand increases for researchers and engineers in Utah, the underrepresented minorities, especially those with roots in Latin America, are needed to be scientific innovators.

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Katherine Kireiev, STEM communication manager at the Utah STEM Action Center.

“It doesn’t matter what the color of skin is. STEM is helping to improve human lives, and maybe, the technologies are based on our abilities to keep up with them,” Katherine Kireiev said. She is an underrepresented first-generation American born to Russian parents. She works at the Utah STEM Action Center as a STEM communication manager, supporting Utah citizens including Latinxs to engage in sciences.

Latinx people are less likely to pursue higher education or their careers in the STEM fields, compared to other ethnic groups. According to a 2018 Pew Research Center report, Hispanics are significantly underrepresented in most STEM occupations; only 7 percent of all STEM workers in the U.S. are Hispanics, while 69 percent are Caucasians.

“The Latino culture of filial piety can be one of those things where they are expected to go into similar lines of work. Or maybe not given the right messaging to drive them toward college or science at home,” Kireiev said.

“Latinos are very family oriented and tend to work more in hands-on jobs rather than go and pursue higher education, because culturally, over generations, they don’t think that’s a pathway,” she said.

“What we do here in this agency is to try to make equity across all of the population,” Kireiev explained about what the center, located at 60 E. South Temple in Salt Lake City, is doing. The Utah STEM Action Center creates children’s “wow” and “why” moments by organizing STEM-related events, showing how science works around them.

“We try to equip students with opportunities that they wouldn’t dream of,” Kireiev said.

“With our very large Latino population in the state of Utah, we target public schools and charter schools. … We’re really trying to get teachers to recognize that [we need to] start them young and get them young and just show them that it can be really fun,” Kireiev said. For example, students are given a little toy that can be programmed to follow different color patterns. “It’s really cool and they say, ‘Oh, my gosh. I made it do that?’ Once students make these physical connections and see in actuality that hands-on piece, then it really lights them up,” she said. 

SACNAS (Society for Advancement of Chicanos/Hispanics and Native Americans in Science) is also an organization supporting college students in the minority groups to build up their community in the STEM fields.

“SACNAS offers a lot of career development, a lot of workshops to help with applying for grad schools, med schools,” said Reuben Ryan Cano in a phone interview. He was born and raised in Utah, and his parents are both from Mexico. He became the president of SACNAS University of Utah chapter while studying as a pre-med biology student at the University of Utah.

“There is a lot of networking that goes on. There is a chance to present their research, learning how to present, and also see other presentations, sharing science as well as sharing those professional skills,” Cano said. “SACNAS can engage minorities in STEM by building a community, providing support necessarily, and professionally encouraging skill development.”

The connection is vital when motivating underrepresented students to be exposed to scientific fields. Lace Padilla, the former vice president of SACNAS University of Utah chapter who currently works as a post-doctoral fellow at Northeastern University, has discovered the importance of connection through an unexpected meeting.

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Lace Padilla has a Ph.D. in cognitive neuroscience. Photo courtesy of Padilla.

Padilla was born to a Mexican-Native American mother and a Caucasian father. She grew up in a small mountain town in Colorado. Her first career was not in science but in an artistic field.

“Where I grew up, people didn’t become a scientist. I never knew any scientists, and I didn’t think someone who looked like me could be a scientist,” Padilla said. Her art career started when she got to know an artist in her hometown. Inspired by the artist who trained Padilla, she became a graphic designer.

“But I always loved science. I graduated first in my class, but for whatever reasons, I never met a college counselor. Just nobody encouraged me to pursue science. So I just didn’t think it was an option,” Padilla said.

After she came to Utah to complete her master’s degree in arts at the University of Utah, she happened to meet a woman who was studying visual perception.

“Visual perception is a really interesting field because it is a science of how our visual system understands the world around us. It was so cool because that was always what I wanted to study in arts,” Padilla explained. Thanks to this meeting, Padilla was encouraged to get into the science field, a decision that changed her life.

Padilla became a graduate research assistant in the visual perception and spatial cognition research lab under the professor’s mentorship and finished her doctoral program in cognitive neuroscience at the U. Since 2018, she has been working as a National Science Foundation (NSF) postdoctoral research fellow at Northeastern University in Boston.

“I wouldn’t have gotten to science if it wasn’t for just randomly meeting this woman who believed in me,” Padilla said.

“Sometimes minority groups get passed over for science because they don’t know someone that can show the way they should have,” Padilla said. “One of the biggest applying factors that makes a minoritized person successful in STEM is having a mentor. If you don’t have a mentor, it’s hard to find a path.”

The current STEM fields are not diversified enough. This inequity is resulting from a lack of real person-to-person connections, inspirations, and encouragements. Underrepresented people hold unlimited potential in science.

“Studying science changed my life,” Padilla said. “I’ve never imagined someone like me could be a scientist. Because I learned a possibility, it changed everything for me. I feel like I’ve been successful because I realized what a privilege it is to study science.”

 

 

Is this the place for me? Being Latinx at a predominantly white institution

Story and photos by IASIA BEH

With the latest photos to come out regarding placement of racist banners and posters on the “Block U,” it raises a lot of questions: Who are they? Why are they doing this? Why do they feel so emboldened that they show their faces when spreading clearly racist rhetoric?

One reason behavior like this is possible is because the University of Utah campus itself is isolated from communities of color. Tucked away on the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains in neighborhoods only few can afford, many white students are never introduced or interact with people of color on a meaningful basis.

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Wendy Vazquez pictured at the annual MEChA High School Conference on Feb. 27, 2019.

Wendy Vazquez is taking a criminal justice class this semester as part of her sociology and criminology degree. While the class material has proven to be interesting to her, Vazquez believes her fellow classmates have not.

Sitting on the couches with her sister in the Center for Ethnic Student Affairs in the A. Ray Olpin University Union, Vazquez talked about a white male student she has class with. Even though they have had some classes together previously, he still won’t sit next to her. This confused her until he mentioned in class that he was fearful of people of color.

“At that point, I understood why he didn’t talk to me,” Vazquez said.

She said he works in the library, which also confuses her.

“It kinda doesn’t make sense because he has to give directions to all students,” she said. “Do brown students come up and he just turns around?”

He isn’t the only classmate who has made her feel excluded. A white female student in an in-class group discussion spoke about how building the wall would stop crime.

“She basically implied that as long as the country stayed white, crime would stop because minorities are the ones who commit crimes,” Vazquez said. “She also said we need to ‘have to put these people in their place.’”

Students of color have experiences like this every day on predominantly white universities across the country. William Smith, who is the department chair of the Education, Culture and Society program at the U, describes racial battle fatigue as “the physical and psychological toll taken due to constant and unceasing discrimination, microaggressions, and stereotype threat.”

Smith’s presentation on the subject through the MUSE luncheon lecture series at the Sill Center on Feb. 7, 2019, brought the discussion to the CESA office that afternoon about times students themselves had felt drained.

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The Center for Ethnic Student Affairs is a space on campus where many students of color meet to study, socialize and meet with advisers.

One Latinx student talked about how it was hard for him to study with his study group because they were Trump supporters. He said he stopped even talking about it with them because it just “wasn’t worth it.” Multiple students mentioned how white people, mostly women in the examples they gave, would cry when confronted about  “problematic” comments. The Latinx students looked both frustrated and relieved when telling these stories, showing that they had been holding those feelings in for some time.

How are professors reacting to situations like these?

Vazquez said her professor only calls out overtly racist comments while letting ones that “aren’t as bad” slide through the cracks.

“It seems to [the students] like he’s validating their opinions when he shouldn’t be,” she said.

Karen, her sister, then spoke about her experience working at the news station at the school. She said she has been prevented from getting into events even when she had the correct credentials.

“My white male coworker even came out and said ‘she’s with me’ but they still wouldn’t let me in,” she said.

What do these stories have to do with anything? Well, everything.

If a student doesn’t feel comfortable and safe on campus, how will they ever be able to reach their full academic potential? The answer is they can’t. That is why the university has created spaces such as CESA for students of color to be able to meet and talk about their experiences in an area where they do feel safe. But is that enough? How will students be exposed to each other if they are only staying in certain places on campus? That then brings the question of whether it’s the job of students’ of color to teach white people how to be culturally sensitive.

Is it enough for the university to call out certain acts of racism but not what is happening in the classroom on a daily basis? How will it implement that? The university has begun to realize that something needs to be done, as it has added many new programs in recent years, but is it working?