Jes Christian: A Different Kind of Fighting Irish

Jes Christian graduated from the University of Notre Dame with a Bachelor of Arts in English from Notre Dame’s College of Arts and Letters in 2014. In 2016, she received a master’s degree in sports industry management from Georgetown University. While at Notre Dame, Christian earned her varsity monogram in track and field as a jumper and sprinter. In her senior year, she served as a track team captain, Student-Athlete Advisory Committee (SAAC) president, a Rosenthal Leadership Academy participant, and as an Atlantic Coast Conference (ACC) for Notre Dame. As SAAC president, she led the efforts to launch the IrishOn3 and student-athlete graduation stole initiatives. She currently serves on the Board of Directors for the Notre Dame Monogram Club, and is a sports footwear entrepreneur based in her hometown of Washington, DC.

This installment of Signed, the Irish is part of a yearlong celebration in honor of Thompson’s legacy as the first black student-athlete to attend the University of Notre Dame, and to celebrate the extraordinary contributions to the Notre Dame community by our black student-athletes.

In my senior year at Notre Dame, I ran for president of Notre Dame’s Student-Athlete Advisory Committee (SAAC), and was elected by my fellow student-athletes. I was elected by my teammates to be a track team captain. I was selected by Notre Dame Athletics administrators to be a part of the Rosenthal Leadership Academy. I worked with athletics administrators to create the stoles that student-athletes wear at graduation to honor their accomplishments. I worked with fellow SAAC members to launch the IrishOn3 initiative, which celebrates student-athletes for supporting each other at games, matches, and meets. I worked, trained, and led with a lot of incredible people, and I felt the impact of my presence in a positive and lasting way. My most lasting memories from my time at Notre Dame are from those experiences above, as well as from my time with teammates, and with friends that I still have today — memories rooted in community, progress, and ambition.

It’s been years since then, and my father still talks about how incredible it was that I took the initiative, stepped into so many of the leadership opportunities that Notre Dame had to offer, and that student-athletes and athletics administrators chose to select me for many of those positions and support me in those efforts. I didn’t think of those experiences as being that remarkable at the time — I’ve always been the type of person to see and pursue leadership opportunities when they are presented – but when comparing my experience to my father’s, I came to realize just how remarkable my journey as a black female student-athlete at Notre Dame truly was.

You see, my father, Alphonso A. Christian II, graduated from Notre Dame in 1965, and in the 60s, things were a bit different for Black folks across the country and at Notre Dame.

For starters, there were way fewer of them at the university and, in case the timestamp doesn’t provide enough context, they weren’t exactly the most popular guys (there also weren’t any women at the school yet) on campus. As if racial inequality wasn’t tough enough to endure, my dad traveled to South Bend, Indiana, from his hometown of St. Thomas, in the U.S. Virgin Islands, when he was only fifteen years old. He’d never seen snow. He’d never seen football. He grew up in a predominantly Black and Caribbean community. Just about everything at Notre Dame, save for religion, was completely foreign to him.

He recounted his first visit to O’Shaughnessy Hall. He was a freshman, just trying to get his bearings. He met with a campus administrator. That administrator prepared him for his time on campus by informing him that it would be challenging, and that he would likely struggle. The administrator did not provide any subsequent words of encouragement or support.

He recounted the time he saw a notice posted by the housing office on the university’s public bulletin board, after his roommate decided to move off-campus. The notice read, “Vacancy in room XYZ, with negro roommate.” When he spoke with office representatives about the curiously descriptive language in the notice, his concerns were dismissed and the posting remained in place.

He recounted a time when he was struggling in his coursework, and failing several consecutive quizzes in one particular class. He was afraid to call his father – who loved him dearly, but who grew up with less, under tougher conditions, never attended college or law school but became a successful lawyer, built a beautiful life for himself and his family, and expected nothing less than success from his son. With no support at school, he studied as much as he could. One day, his professor unfolded his latest quiz on his desk to reveal a perfect score. “Getting the hang of it?” the professor said with an uplifting tone in his voice. My father still remembers that professor to this day – and appreciates the ounce of encouragement that was provided in what was otherwise a sea of solitude, largely void of support.

He recounted the occasion when Alabama governor George Wallace spoke on campus. Wallace was known for his strong stance in opposition to the civil rights movement, and in favor of segregation. His 1963 inaugural address was made infamous by the line “Segregation today. Segregation tomorrow. Segregation forever.” My father joined other students in protesting Governor Wallace’s views when he appeared on campus. When they made an effort to bring civil rights activist Malcolm X to campus to speak, members of the administration rejected their request, describing X as a fringe public figure with no formal political office.

He recounted the fear he felt after one of his professors asked that he stop by his office following an exam period. Concerned that he had done something wrong, though not aware of any valid basis for that concern, he was shocked to discover that he had been one of the few students ever to score as high as he did on the final exam. His professor was calling him in to congratulate him, and to offer his support in any of his future academic endeavors.

He recounted the time that a history professor tapped out a musical beat in front of the class, then asked the students to suggest answers about the gesture’s relevance to the day’s teachings. When the students failed to do so, the professor explained that the beat represented the concept of rhythm, and that rhythm was the negro’s major contribution to American history. He was the only Black student in the class. Angry and afraid, he walked out, along with only a few other students.

When I think about my father’s experiences, I realize how incredible it is that I was able to be, pursue, and do, so many things that didn’t exist for people that looked like us when he was in school. My father had to experience university life with the fear that perceptions based on the color of his skin, and not his academic performance or character, might have a significant impact on his future. I was able to experience not only student-life, but leadership as a Black female student and athlete at the same prominent and predominantly white institution – and other male, female, Black, and non-Black students and leaders were enthusiastically receptive to and supportive of that leadership. I was able to feel confident and secure in expressing my views at the university when addressing concerns to school athletics leadership. I had more supporters than critics and, on the most basic level, I was able to attend (as a Black woman) and compete (as a female athlete) at the university – privileges afforded to me and other students as a result of the battles fought and won by those who came before us.

My Notre Dame experience wasn’t spotless with regard to my race. I experienced discrimination in the classroom from certain professors. I saw and heard of racial incidents taking place, and racially unjust statements being made. I felt the otherness that many Black and brown minority students feel to this day, and I experienced the implicit biases that come with being a Black person, a woman, and a student-athlete.

Racial bias still exists on campus today, and work still needs to be done by members of the Notre Dame community to move that needle further forward, but I’m thankful for those working now and for those that came before me to push through to excellence and fight for fairness. I’m thankful that the differences between my father’s experience and mine represent progress that my father was able to witness. I’m proud that, during my time as a student-athlete, I was able to demonstrate what Black and brown folks can do when they’re able to operate in their fully ambitious, fearless, and authentic selves, and I’m proud to see that happening more and more with other students and student-athletes of color everyday.

To the current and future students and student-athletes of color at Notre Dame – my wish for you is that you’ll continue to be, do, and pursue more. That you’ll enter into more spaces at Notre Dame, and lead and collaborate with more students across the university. That you’ll highlight issues and address them with a confidence that wasn’t available to those who came before you. That you’ll appreciate how far we’ve come as people of color. That you’ll keep moving forward using experiences like my father’s and my own as fuel for your fire, into an expanding world of opportunities, despite the presence of challenges, knowing that more and more you can, within and beyond the walls of Notre Dame.