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Boston Globe
06-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Boston Globe
They said they were ‘just friends' — but their closest friends saw something more
Jacinta Utubor and Anthony Boone Jr. were just friends. They insisted when their friends referred to Jacinta as Jacinta Boone. And when a student ambassador asked when they were going to get married. And when their mutual friends had lovingly teased them ... for nearly two years. ''You guys are meant to be — he's in love with you,'' Jacinta remembers her then-roommate telling her. 'And I'd be like, 'OK, like, guys, please .' But still, it never made it awkward between me and him because we were just so close." Watertown newlyweds Jacinta Utubor and Anthony Boone Jr. first met as freshmen at Union College in Schenectady, N.Y. They got married on March 30, 2025, at Avenir in Walpole. One in a Million Weddings./One in a Million Weddings They first met in September 2015. Anthony was a New Haven, Conn., native and first-generation freshman at Union College, a small liberal arts school in Schenectady, N.Y. Advertisement Jacinta, who grew up in Lowell, had already spent the summer on campus for the university's Academic Opportunity Program. When Anthony searched for friendly faces at the first Black Student Union meeting, he immediately noticed social butterfly, Jacinta, smiling back. 'I love dorky, cute guys,' explains Jacinta. And Anthony was a dorky, cute guy: 'He was shy, but he's still very talkative. He's like a Wikipedia; he would just talk about anything.' They forged a close friendship over shared bio textbooks and harmless pranks. Any semblance of a crush had 'literally disappeared' when Jacinta learned Anthony had a girlfriend back home. (They broke up after freshman year.) It was purely, mutually platonic — until July 2017. They were both part of a group text chat that summer, but one day, Anthony's phone rang. Advertisement It was Jacinta. 'It was the happiest moment I had that whole summer,' he says. 'It just felt good to talk to her. … She was checking up on me … That's when I started feeling differently [about her].' Related : They met in person at Logan Airport that fall; both were headed to São Paulo, Brazil, for a semester abroad program. Jacinta's mother and sister watched as the two scrambled to redistribute her overcapacity suitcase. When Jacinta began her tearful goodbyes, her mother had laughed. 'You're going to be fine, ' Jacinta remembers her saying, 'Anthony's right here.' For their first two years at Union College, Jacinta says Anthony felt "like a brother" — including all the "annoying" parts. "Everyone knew Anthony had to bother me at some point of the day," she says with a laugh. "It was his favorite thing to do." One in a Million Weddings./One in a Million Weddings In Brazil, the two shared the same route to their respective host families, andAnthony began to accompany her home from campus. 'I started making subtle moves — because in Brazil, there's a ton of PDA everywhere," he says with a laugh. He started by holding her hand. 'I was freaking out,' Jacinta says. They began the ritual of stopping at a local pastel stand, eating delicious, flaky pastries while walking Avenida Paulista. After several weeks, Anthony kissed Jacinta's cheek as they said 'goodbye' at her front door. 'Again,' he reasons, " Brazil .' Jacinta had already informed their friends at home about Anthony's behavior. There were 'butterflies,' but she was more confused than conflicted. Meanwhile, the friends were messaging Anthony: 'They were kind of instigating — like, 'We heard about what's going on with you. How do you feel about that? '' Anthony planned a rooftop proposal with the help of Jacinta's future bridesmaids and family, who invented an 'event' for her cousin's haircare company, Kasali Hair Co., to get her there. The proposal included oversized light-up letters that spelled "Marry Me" and their favorite song, "Blessed" by Daniel Caesar. One in a Million Weddings./One in a Million Weddings By October, Jacinta wanted some answers. It was well-after midnight when they arrived at Anthony's in Villa Mariana to " talk" per Jacinta's request, after late night tacos. They sat on his bed, staring out the window, with the moon's glow illuminating their silence. Advertisement Finally, Jacinta broke the ice: 'Our friendship has changed.' The talk lasted hours, but led to a simple question: 'Jacinta Utubor, do you want to be my girlfriend?' They kissed — exchanging 'I love yous' days later. Friendship anchored their love through changes and challenges. They spent the next summer together on the Curry College campus for teaching fellowships with When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Anthony was temporarily marooned with Jacinta and her mother in Lowell when travel felt too risky. The contents of his weekend duffel bag stretched across three months, as he taught remotely from their home. The time solidified his place in her family: 'We became much closer as friends,' he says of her mother. Jacinta Utubor and Anthony Boone Jr. also had a Nigerian ceremony, hosted by her mother at the Hellenic Cultural Center in Lowell the Friday before their Sunday reception in Walpole. Mofliks He moved to Albuquerque in October 2020 for a job with the CDC as a public health associate. Jacinta began to apply to nursing schools. There were visits every other month and Facetime and texts to sustain them in between. When Anthony returned for a master's program at the Boston University School of Public Health two years later, Jacinta completed her nursing degree at Simmons. She joined Brigham and Women's Hospital's oncology department as an RN. As their professional lives settled, they bought an apartment in Watertown in June 2023, finally home. Anthony proposed on the rooftop of a South End high-rise on July 1, 2023. Surrounded by a heart-shaped ring of rose petals, he said: 'We always say that time and distance were the main things keeping us from each other. Now that we live together, there's no more distance. And I don't want to waste any more time.' Advertisement Jacinta and Anthony, now 27 and 28, wed March 30 at It was the second time they had pledged their commitment that weekend. That Friday, Jacinta's mother had hosted their traditional Nigerian wedding at the Hellenic Cultural Center in Lowell. Their 150 guests then returned for the Sunday wedding and reception. For Jacinta, a floral arch was a "non-negotiable." Boston Flower Co. made one using silk flowers. "The first time I saw it, I just got emotional," Jacinta says. One in a Million Weddings./One in a Million Weddings The couple prioritized hiring Black vendors and enlisted They exchanged 'I do's' beneath an elaborate arch made from silk hydrangeas, roses, orchids, and anthuriums created by Following dinner, back-to-back stroll performances — led by Anthony and his Alpha Phi Alpha brothers and Jacinta and her sorority sisters of Sigma Gamma — got guests on their feet. Tears were shed as Jacinta and her mother swayed to Mariah Carey's 'Hero,' and the couple swept the floor to 'First Time' by Teeks. Speeches included playful gloating by wedding party members who had predicted a forever kind of love since they were undergrads. For the couple, the quieter moments stood out most. Jacinta's favorite memory was just after their jumping the broom ceremony. They took a long pause after they landed on their feet to say 'I love you.' 'We were staring at each other like, 'We did it. We finally did it,'' she says. For Anthony, it was just as Jacinta began to walk down the aisle, and 'Fall for You' by Leela James began to play. Advertisement '[She] always joked, 'If you don't cry when the curtain opens and you see me, I'm going back. We're going to start over,'' Anthony says with a laugh. No do-overs were necessary. Read more from , The Boston Globe's new weddings column. Rachel Kim Raczka is a writer and editor in Boston. She can be reached at
Yahoo
21-03-2025
- Yahoo
BU alumna to discuss career wellness during TEDx Talk
VESTAL, N.Y. (WIVT/WBGH) – A Binghamton University alumna is returning to campus to share her insights on how to not let your work consume your entire life. Faye McCray is a career wellness expert who is currently writing a book about healthy ambition. McCray graduated from BU with a degree in English before going to law school. She's had careers in two high-stress professions: law and the media. McCray encourages people to find time in their lives for other passions that don't require sacrificing your work ambitions. She wants others to question their motivations when they allow their work to dictate most aspects of their life and identity. McCray says a values realignment can bring people peace. 'People who really feel like they're in service of not just the greater good, but their gifts, those things that maybe they've pushed down for a long time. Those passions, those things that make them happy. When they're able to live life in service of those things, it's truly profound just what a difference living your life looks like,' said McCray. McCray says she has fond memories of her time at BU, serving in the Black Student Union and the Hillside Community. She's giving a talk this Sunday during the annual TEDx talk on campus. It runs from noon to 3 in the Anderson Center's Chamber Hall. Tickets are $12. To purchase, click here. NYS Lieutenant Governor speaks at Medicaid rally in Binghamton Nimmonsburg Hillcrest Rotary celebrates 75th birthday PAST donates Green Man to library for installation in Reading Garden BU alumna to discuss career wellness during TEDx Talk After 17-month investigation, Onondaga County deputy whose gunshots killed two teenagers won't be prosecuted by State Attorney General Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Yahoo
28-02-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Strict Utah law cut DEI from colleges. Affected students say they no longer feel valued
Nevaeh Parker, president of the Black Student Union at the University of Utah, has spent much of the school year scrambling to salvage her organization, undercut by matters far beyond student control. A new Utah law banning diversity, equity and inclusion programming at public colleges took effect July 1, eliminating the Black Student Union's $11,000 in university funding, shutting down its gathering center and taking away staff support for an organization that for more than 50 years has been helping Black students succeed in college. As a condition of remaining a university-sponsored and funded organization, the group had to agree to never talk about bias, discrimination and identity politics on campus. The students refused — along with three other campus affinity groups. Now the Black Student Union, the Asian American Assn., the Pacific Islander Assn. and LGBTQ+ students are fending for themselves, scrambling to find community support, advisors, mentoring and a place to meet, while feeling they are no longer valued on campus. As President Trump sets out to ban DEI efforts across the federal government and in schools, colleges and businesses, Utah's law and its impact at the University of Utah offer a case study on what a college campus looks like without race- and gender-based campus programs. Utah is among at least 15 states with DEI bans in schools and higher education institutions. Utah's law prohibits public universities, K-12 schools and government offices "from engaging in discriminatory practices" based on a person's race, color, ethnicity, sex, sexual orientation, national origin, religion or gender identity. The law states it "does not impact" academic freedom or research and classroom instruction, among other issues. When it comes to speech, "an institution may not take, express, or assert a position or opinion" on anti-racism, bias, critical race theory, implicit bias, intersectionality, prohibited discriminatory practices, racial privilege," the law states. Diversity training is also banned. Read more: Colleges, K-12 schools ordered by Trump administration to abolish DEI or face funding cuts Parker and others said that agreeing to limit their speech on issues important to them was the line they could not cross to keep their university support. 'Those things are not political, those things are real, and they impact the way students are able to perform on campus,' Parker said. Alex Tokita, a senior who is the president of the Asian American Student Assn., said obeying the law is 'bonkers.' 'It's frustrating to me that we can have an MLK Jr. Day, but we can't talk about implicit bias,' Tokita said. 'We can't talk about critical race theory, bias, implicit bias.' As a student, Tokita can use these words and discuss these concepts. But when speaking as part of a university-sponsored organization, using such speech is against the law. The university responds Utah's law, House Bill 261, known as 'Equal Opportunity Initiatives,' arose from a conservative view that DEI initiatives promote different treatment of students based on race, ethnicity, gender or sexuality. Violators risk losing state funding. To comply with the law, the University of Utah closed its Black Cultural Center, the Center for Equity and Student Belonging, the LGBT Resource Center and the Women's Resource Center — in addition to making funding cuts to the student affinity groups. Instead, the university opened a new Center for Community and Cultural Engagement to offer programming for education, celebration and awareness of different identity and cultural groups. A new Center for Student Access and Resources offers practical support services such as counseling to all students, regardless of identity. The law allows Utah colleges to operate cultural centers, so long as they offer only 'cultural education, celebration, engagement, and awareness to provide opportunities for all students to learn with and from one another,' according to guidance from the Utah System of Higher Education. For many students, the changes had little effect. Utah's undergraduate population is about 63% white, 14% Latino, 8% Asian and 1% Black. Gender identity and sexuality among students are not tracked. How students are coping Parker said she is dedicated to keeping the BSU going because it means so much to her fellow Black students. She said several of her peers have told her they don't feel they have a place on campus and are considering dropping out. 'The students are hurting,' she said, adding that she too is struggling. Read more: How California schools, colleges are responding to Trump's DEI crackdown 'I feel as though me living in this Black body automatically makes myself and my existence here political, I feel like it makes my existence here debatable and questioned,' Parker said. 'I feel like every single day I'm having to prove myself extra.' So she continues her work, organizing the group's monthly meetings on a bare-bones budget — about $1,000 from the student government, which serves more than 100 clubs. She often drives to pick up the pizza to avoid wasting precious dollars on delivery fees. She's helping organize community events outside the purview of the university to help Black, Asian and Latino students build relationships with one another and connect with professionals working in Salt Lake City for mentorship and networking opportunities. A group of queer and transgender students formed a student-run Pride Center, with support from the local Utah Pride Center. A few days a week, they set up camp in a study room in the library. They bring in Pride flags, informational fliers and rainbow stickers to distribute. Without an official center, they sit at a big table in case other students come looking for a space to study or spend time with friends. What the university is doing Lori McDonald, the university's vice president of student affairs, said so far, her staff has not seen as many students spending time in the two new centers as they did when that space was the Women's Resource Center and the LGBT Resource Center. 'I still hear from students who are grieving the loss of the centers that they felt such ownership of and comfort with,' McDonald said. 'I expected that there would still be frustration with the situation, but yet still carrying on and finding new things.' Katy Hall, a Republican state representative who co-sponsored the legislation, said in an email she wanted to ensure that support services were available to all students and that barriers to academic success were removed. 'My aim was to take the politics out of it and move forward with helping students and Utahns to focus on equal treatment under the law for all,' Hall said. 'Long term, I hope that students who benefitted from these centers in the past know that the expectation is that they will still be able to receive services and support that they need.' Concerns ahead Research has shown that a sense of belonging at college contributes to improved engagement in class and campus activities and to retaining students until they graduate. 'When we take away critical supports that we know have been so instrumental in student engagement and retention, we are not delivering on our promise to ensure student success,' said Royel M. Johnson, director of the national assessment of collegiate campus climates at the USC Race and Equity Center. Kirstin Maanum is the director of the new Center for Student Access and Resources; it administers scholarships and guidance previously offered by the now-closed centers. She formerly served as the director of the Women's Resource Center. 'Students have worked really hard to figure out where their place is and try to get connected,' Maanum said. 'It's on us to be telling students what we offer and even in some cases, what we don't, and connecting them to places that do offer what they're looking for.' That has been difficult, she said, because the changeover happened so quickly, even though some staffers from the closed centers were reassigned to the new centers. The new way of doing things Last fall, the new Center for Community and Cultural Engagement hosted a fall event around the time of National Coming Out Day in October, with a screening of 'Paris Is Burning,' a film about transgender women and drag queens in New York City in the 1980s. Afterward, two staff members led a discussion with the students, prefacing that talk with a disclaimer saying that they were not speaking on behalf of the university. Center staffers also created an altar for students to observe Día de los Muertos, held an event to celebrate Indigenous art and has hosted events in observance of Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Black History Month. But some students lament the loss of dedicated cultural spaces. For Taylor White, a recent graduate with a degree in psychology, connecting with fellow Black students through BSU events was, 'honestly, the biggest relief of my life.' At the Black Cultural Center, she said, students could talk about what it was like to be the only Black person in their classes or to be Black in other predominantly white spaces. She said that without the support of other Black students, she's not sure she would have been able to finish her degree. This article was produced by the Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
28-02-2025
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
Strict Utah law cut DEI from colleges. Affected students say they no longer feel valued
SALT LAKE CITY — Nevaeh Parker, president of the Black Student Union at the University of Utah, has spent much of the school year scrambling to salvage her organization, undercut by matters far beyond student control. A new Utah law banning diversity, equity and inclusion programming at public colleges took effect July 1, eliminating the Black Student Union's $11,000 in university funding, shutting down its gathering center and taking away staff support for an organization that for more than 50 years has been helping Black students succeed in college. As a condition of remaining a university-sponsored and funded organization, the group had to agree to never talk about bias, discrimination and identity politics on campus. The students refused — along with three other campus affinity groups. Now the Black Student Union, the Asian American Assn., the Pacific Islander Assn. and LGBTQ+ students are fending for themselves, scrambling to find community support, advisors, mentoring and a place to meet, while feeling they are no longer valued on campus. As President Trump sets out to ban DEI efforts across the federal government and in schools, colleges and businesses, Utah's law and its impact at the University of Utah offer a case study on what a college campus looks like without race- and gender-based campus programs. Utah is among at least 15 states with DEI bans in schools and higher education institutions. Utah's law prohibits public universities, K-12 schools and government offices 'from engaging in discriminatory practices' based on a person's race, color, ethnicity, sex, sexual orientation, national origin, religion or gender identity. The law states it 'does not impact' academic freedom or research and classroom instruction, among other issues. When it comes to speech, 'an institution may not take, express, or assert a position or opinion' on anti-racism, bias, critical race theory, implicit bias, intersectionality, prohibited discriminatory practices, racial privilege,' the law states. Diversity training is also banned. Parker and others said that agreeing to limit their speech on issues important to them was the line they could not cross to keep their university support. 'Those things are not political, those things are real, and they impact the way students are able to perform on campus,' Parker said. Alex Tokita, a senior who is the president of the Asian American Student Assn., said obeying the law is 'bonkers.' 'It's frustrating to me that we can have an MLK Jr. Day, but we can't talk about implicit bias,' Tokita said. 'We can't talk about critical race theory, bias, implicit bias.' As a student, Tokita can use these words and discuss these concepts. But when speaking as part of a university-sponsored organization, using such speech is against the law. The university responds Utah's law, House Bill 261, known as 'Equal Opportunity Initiatives,' arose from a conservative view that DEI initiatives promote different treatment of students based on race, ethnicity, gender or sexuality. Violators risk losing state funding. To comply with the law, the University of Utah closed its Black Cultural Center, the Center for Equity and Student Belonging, the LGBT Resource Center and the Women's Resource Center — in addition to making funding cuts to the student affinity groups. Instead, the university opened a new Center for Community and Cultural Engagement to offer programming for education, celebration and awareness of different identity and cultural groups. A new Center for Student Access and Resources offers practical support services such as counseling to all students, regardless of identity. The law allows Utah colleges to operate cultural centers, so long as they offer only 'cultural education, celebration, engagement, and awareness to provide opportunities for all students to learn with and from one another,' according to guidance from the Utah System of Higher Education. For many students, the changes had little effect. Utah's undergraduate population is about 63% white, 14% Latino, 8% Asian and 1% Black. Gender identity and sexuality among students are not tracked. How students are coping Parker said she is dedicated to keeping the BSU going because it means so much to her fellow Black students. She said several of her peers have told her they don't feel they have a place on campus and are considering dropping out. 'The students are hurting,' she said, adding that she too is struggling. 'I feel as though me living in this Black body automatically makes myself and my existence here political, I feel like it makes my existence here debatable and questioned,' Parker said. 'I feel like every single day I'm having to prove myself extra.' So she continues her work, organizing the group's monthly meetings on a bare-bones budget — about $1,000 from the student government, which serves more than 100 clubs. She often drives to pick up the pizza to avoid wasting precious dollars on delivery fees. She's helping organize community events outside the purview of the university to help Black, Asian and Latino students build relationships with one another and connect with professionals working in Salt Lake City for mentorship and networking opportunities. A group of queer and transgender students formed a student-run Pride Center, with support from the local Utah Pride Center. A few days a week, they set up camp in a study room in the library. They bring in Pride flags, informational fliers and rainbow stickers to distribute. Without an official center, they sit at a big table in case other students come looking for a space to study or spend time with friends. What the university is doing Lori McDonald, the university's vice president of student affairs, said so far, her staff has not seen as many students spending time in the two new centers as they did when that space was the Women's Resource Center and the LGBT Resource Center. 'I still hear from students who are grieving the loss of the centers that they felt such ownership of and comfort with,' McDonald said. 'I expected that there would still be frustration with the situation, but yet still carrying on and finding new things.' Katy Hall, a Republican state representative who co-sponsored the legislation, said in an email she wanted to ensure that support services were available to all students and that barriers to academic success were removed. 'My aim was to take the politics out of it and move forward with helping students and Utahns to focus on equal treatment under the law for all,' Hall said. 'Long term, I hope that students who benefitted from these centers in the past know that the expectation is that they will still be able to receive services and support that they need.' Concerns ahead Research has shown that a sense of belonging at college contributes to improved engagement in class and campus activities and to retaining students until they graduate. 'When we take away critical supports that we know have been so instrumental in student engagement and retention, we are not delivering on our promise to ensure student success,' said Royel M. Johnson, director of the national assessment of collegiate campus climates at the USC Race and Equity Center. Kirstin Maanum is the director of the new Center for Student Access and Resources; it administers scholarships and guidance previously offered by the now-closed centers. She formerly served as the director of the Women's Resource Center. 'Students have worked really hard to figure out where their place is and try to get connected,' Maanum said. 'It's on us to be telling students what we offer and even in some cases, what we don't, and connecting them to places that do offer what they're looking for.' That has been difficult, she said, because the changeover happened so quickly, even though some staffers from the closed centers were reassigned to the new centers. The new way of doing things Last fall, the new Center for Community and Cultural Engagement hosted a fall event around the time of National Coming Out Day in October, with a screening of 'Paris Is Burning,' a film about transgender women and drag queens in New York City in the 1980s. Afterward, two staff members led a discussion with the students, prefacing that talk with a disclaimer saying that they were not speaking on behalf of the university. Center staffers also created an altar for students to observe Día de los Muertos, held an event to celebrate Indigenous art and has hosted events in observance of Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Black History Month. But some students lament the loss of dedicated cultural spaces. For Taylor White, a recent graduate with a degree in psychology, connecting with fellow Black students through BSU events was, 'honestly, the biggest relief of my life.' At the Black Cultural Center, she said, students could talk about what it was like to be the only Black person in their classes or to be Black in other predominantly white spaces. She said that without the support of other Black students, she's not sure she would have been able to finish her degree. This article was produced by the Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education.
Yahoo
20-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
‘Stars of the future': Eastman student group organizes Black History showcase
ROCHESTER, N.Y. (WROC) – The Eastman School of Music held its Black History Month showcase Wednesday night. The event was held by the school's Black Student Union (BSU) and featured performances from students with the goal of promoting music by Black composers and showcasing works of Black students at Eastman. Peek behind the curtain: How RBTL chooses shows 'To put our very excellent students from the Black Student Union on stage to celebrate music by African American composers is an incredible thing and I'm so excited that we get to do this,' said Crystal Sellers Battle, the Associate Dean of Equity and Inclusion. 'What I want the performers – students who are performing to feel, is that as I say in my opening comments, they are their ancestors wildest dream, and I want them to live in that moment on stage and enjoy it and be a place where they can show the world what they do. Then those who are in the audience, I want them to really get to know some of these names and faces and realize that they might be seeing stars of the future.' The Black Student Union has put on a Black History Month showcase each year since its organization got its start in 2018. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
