, a 天美影视传媒 professor of electrical and computer engineering, has experienced sexual harassment and assault in the male-dominated field of engineering.

In her early days as an undergraduate, she was expected to meet male students’ sexual needs. In graduate school, she was subjected to sexist comments, and in her academic and industry career, she faced inappropriate physical contact in the field and at academic conferences.

鈥淚 thought things had changed,鈥� Wilson said. 鈥淏ut then I still hear similar stories from women today.鈥�

Wilson is working to end the prevalence of sexual harassment in engineering. She and her colleague of Calvin University are co-authors of 鈥�,鈥� published in April by Cambridge Scholars Publishing.

In addition, Wilson will be teaching a department-level class, EE397, to go along with the book in spring 2023.

鈥淭here are huge holes to understanding what鈥檚 going on in the workplace,鈥� Wilson said. 鈥淭he book and the course are about raising student awareness and helping them understand how to strategize toward a better work environment no matter where they are in the hierarchy.鈥�

The book starts by setting the groundwork for why sexual harassment is wrong, describing its legal aspects and the harmful effects on victims. It then examines the groups impacted and what harassment looks like in the university and the workplace, before moving on to contemporary factors, such as COVID-19, U.S. presidents, and social movements like #MeToo and Black Lives Matter. It concludes by looking at solutions for tackling harassment, with a focus on civility training and other strategies that positively motivate people to do better and intervene if they see harassment occur.

This book isn鈥檛 a traditional textbook. It uses anecdotes to help connect students with the experience of sexual harassment.

鈥淚n the culture of engineering, there’s a lot of pressure to not speak about difficulty,鈥� Wilson said. 鈥淚f you’re a good engineer and you’re underrepresented, you tough it out. How do we overcome that? I think it’s only by talking about it and by telling stories, along with the data.”

Wilson said there is an unwritten rule about harassment in engineering to just 鈥渟hut up and deal with it.鈥� This message is conveyed not only by the male-dominant majority but also by those who have advanced in the field while quietly enduring abuse. This tendency to keep things quiet explains why things haven鈥檛 changed, even as gender representation in engineering has diversified, she said.

Karen Thomas-Brown, the associate dean of diversity, equity and inclusion in the UW College of Engineering, said Wilson’s and VanAntwerp鈥檚 book is effective for 鈥渦ndergraduate students who may have never experienced harassment or heard about the law. Students are going to be able to say, 鈥極h, so this is not just a bunch of women saying you shouldn’t do this to us. There are laws.鈥欌��

Thomas-Brown 鈥� who, as the lead of the college’s Office of Inclusive Excellence, plans to use a deliberate, data-driven approach to create change 鈥渢op-down and inside-out鈥� 鈥� is creating a suite of required college-level DEI courses, including a general course on diversity in society, a course on race, and a course on justice, equity, diversity and inclusion in engineering.

A fourth course 鈥� on sex, gender and harassment, paired with Wilson’s and VanAntwerp鈥檚 book 鈥� will be added to the suite. Next spring’s department-level course will serve as a pilot, assessing what holes there might be in the book or course before rolling it out to the entire college.

Wilson is hopeful about the potential for change in engineering.

鈥淢ost people I know in this field 鈥� they want a good culture,鈥� she said. 鈥淭here’s a lot of kindness in engineering that is often hidden under our norms and our image. And I think that we should capitalize on that kindness and concern for society to build a better future internally.鈥�

She wants to create the change for her field that she鈥檚 undergone herself. Wilson has come a long way from the young woman who kept quiet about the harassment she experienced.

鈥淚 cannot emphasize enough how I’ve changed in the process of writing this book,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t’s much harder to shut me up. I’m much more outspoken. I am more willing to be culturally uncomfortable. I learned the only way I’m going to do my best and contribute to change is just to be who I am and speak. I have learned to keep speaking even when there鈥檚 silence on the other end.鈥�

Digital technology shapes how many children today interact with the world. The COVID-19 pandemic intensified this wired existence, with everything from school to playdates taking place online.

With this in mind, , a hydrologist and 天美影视传媒 professor of civil and environmental engineering, and , a UW master鈥檚 student in electrical and computer engineering, set out to show children how technological breakthroughs predated the internet and were inspired by the natural world.

In their children鈥檚 book 鈥�,鈥� illustrated by Hatice Sena Balkan, Hossain and Zhou write about the work of Ismail Al-Jazari, a 12th-century polymath considered by many to be the 鈥渇ather of robotics.鈥� The book, published by Mascot Books, explores the origins of eight of Al-Jazari鈥檚 inventions, including a four-cycle gear system, a blood measurement device, an elephant-shaped water clock and a robot that helps wash and dry hands.

A few years ago, Hossain discovered Al-Jazari’s work, 鈥淭he Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices.鈥� Hossain was amazed by the inventions and robots in the book and was eager to learn more.

Around the same time, Hossain met Zhou as part of the College of Engineering鈥檚 industry capstone program, where they worked with teammates to create a remote-controlled culvert inspection vehicle called the HydroCUB. Hossain and Zhou worked together well and decided to collaborate on sharing a medieval story relevant to children today.

Hossain answered questions from UW News about the book.

What鈥檚 the most important thing you want kids to get from the book?

We want them to know that the real world, outside of the digital world where they might be spending most of their time, can be a fascinating and wonderful place. The natural world is a laboratory that can show them how water works and moves. A pioneer of modern-day robotics invented robots by borrowing principles from the real world. That鈥檚 the message we want our kids to take: Spend more time outside watching and learning from nature and less time with computers.

What鈥檚 your favorite invention in the book?

I like the one about the robot that automatically dispenses water to clean and perform ablution, or washing. While the user is cleaning themselves, the robot plays a flute-like sound, which was also an invention, and then hands the user a towel. Every sequence of the task is timed and organized.

Can you share more about how you came to work with Zhou on this book?

When I met Qishi Zhou, I found we partnered really well on water issues, combining my understanding of the needs of the water community 鈥� the broad community that works on water issues for research, industry, policy, planning and utilities 鈥� with the expertise available from the electrical and electronics engineering design community to solve real-world problems. The partnership was based on the development of robots and gadgets to solve societal problems, improve quality of life and address societal needs. This was almost like a microcosm of what Ismail Al-Jazari did 800 years ago when he used automation to create tools to improve quality of life.

How does your interest in Al-Jazari relate to your expertise as a hydrologist?

I became interested in Al-Jazari because he used water as a core concept to drive the automation architecture of his devices using simple concepts of hydrostatic pressure and water flow laws. As a hydrologist, this is what we also study and use, but it never dawned on me that such concepts could be used to drive automation and even build robots when there was no electricity. It just drove home the concept that water is as powerful and relevant as today鈥檚 electronics, computers and information technology. This thought makes me feel quite proud as a hydrologist.

Outside of your work as a hydrologist, you specialize in filmmaking and the communication of science. What do you think is most effective at sharing the wonder of science with kids?

I don鈥檛 think there is one perfect or single way. But I do think there has to be a great story that will get kids hooked and want to know more. Often, that鈥檚 a story that kids can relate to, based on their personal experiences 鈥� so a story that humanizes the topic and is of a broad and uncommon perspective, with fun action that appears counterintuitive or is against mainstream thinking.

As a UW doctoral student in social work, studies how the transgender community comes together to support each other. Harner, who is trans, has personal experience with the topic.

鈥淭he narrative that we hear in the media is how hard it is to be trans,鈥� they said. 鈥淟ike with any marginalized experience 鈥� yeah, there are difficulties. But the experience of being trans is more about joy and community for me.鈥�

Last year, UW registrar Helen Garrett that, for the first time, the UW would allow graduates to use their chosen first and last names for their diplomas, effective July 2021. The policy change was the result of efforts led by Harner and a that earned over 30,000 signatures, demonstrating the power of the trans community.

With the policy change, graduates now can the name they want listed on their diploma. Graduates from past years also can request a replacement diploma.

Prior to the policy change, UW only allowed full legal names on diplomas. If students had adopted another name 鈥� for example, because their gender no longer matched what was assigned to them at birth 鈥� then their identity wasn鈥檛 reflected on this important document.

Harner, who is graduating this summer, said that every graduate deserves a diploma they can be proud of after the years of hard work it takes to earn a degree. Students go to class, and in many cases also teach and publish, using their chosen names. Seeing a diploma with anything else 鈥渇eels really empty.鈥�

A name mismatch on a diploma also might inadvertently out a trans individual and threaten their safety, Harner said. Using the chosen name shows the university鈥檚 commitment to each graduate.

鈥淚t’s about that recognition and that feeling of seeing yourself on that diploma that you work so hard for,鈥� they said. 鈥淏ut it’s not only about the name. It’s about how we treat trans people in our culture and how we treat people generally when it comes to respecting self-identification, autonomy and differences.鈥�

When Harner was graduating with a master鈥檚 degree from Arizona State University, they discovered that ASU had a restrictive policy around diploma names. Harner talked to a supervisor in the registrar鈥檚 office, and their chosen name was included on their diploma. But ASU didn鈥檛 make a universal policy change.

At the UW, Harner again contacted the registrar鈥檚 office and learned about the university鈥檚 policy. They decided it was time to work toward a lasting change that applied to everyone.

鈥淔or some of my students, especially if they鈥檙e first-generation, the diploma is really powerful,鈥� Harner said. 鈥淚t was heartbreaking and frustrating for me to see my students graduating and saying, 鈥楾hey鈥檙e making me put my legal name on my diploma.鈥� That really kicked my butt into gear.鈥�

In spring 2021, Harner contacted Garrett, the registrar, about the policy and learned that the Faculty Senate had to approve any change. Harner then reached out to Chris Laws, the incoming chair of the Faculty Senate. Both Garrett and Laws told Harner they were personally supportive, but Laws told them that the Faculty Senate doesn鈥檛 meet over the summer.

Harner knew that the Faculty Senate had a lot on its plate, especially in the middle of the pandemic, and that there was work to do to make sure that the policy change stayed on its list of priorities. That鈥檚 where their knowledge about community and community organizing came into use.

On July 9, 2021, Harner launched a petition drive titled 鈥淒emand UW Allow Trans Student Chosen First Names on Diplomas.鈥� They reached out to their network of students, the Q Center, LGBTQIA+ community groups and UAW 4121, the labor union representing UW academic workers and postdoctoral researchers.

Word spread. After 24 hours, the petition had 1,000 signatures, and after the first week, it had 3,500. The petition ended up with nearly 32,000 signatures. It also included hundreds of from people sharing their support and experiences. People spoke to the harm of policies that don鈥檛 affirm the trans community and how the current policy might dissuade people from sending their children to the UW.

Over the next several months, Harner emailed Laws for updates, talked to the UW Daily and kept the effort moving forward. They also drew on experience growing up as a young queer person in Nebraska, knowing when to push but not push too hard. The work paid off.

Garrett announced the policy change on Dec. 17 and Harner was . They thanked Garrett and Laws for their action on the issue as well as the those who showed grassroots support.

“The Office of the University Registrar, along with the registrars at UW Tacoma and UW Bothell, are glad we can now offer students the ability to decide the name they want to appear on their diploma,” Garrett said. “We take the self-sovereignty of student identity very seriously and endorse any enrollment process that allows for this. We so appreciate the leadership demonstrated by Vern Warner to move the diploma name policy along our roadmap, and welcome continued partnership and feedback from our students anytime.”

Harner said the policy change around diploma names makes the UW more inclusive, sending the signal to trans students and researchers that they are welcome here.

Still, there continue to be barriers for trans and other marginalized people to take part in academia 鈥� at the UW and across academia. Change needs to occur if higher education is going to live up to its ideals and produce research that improves people鈥檚 lives, especially when the research is about marginalized communities, Harner said.

鈥淚t’s really important to me that the work about a community is driven by the community itself,鈥� they said. 鈥淔or me, it’s really just about being embedded in my community and letting what I’m hearing drive the work 鈥� not just my own curiosity as a researcher. It鈥檚 about what鈥檚 going to be impactful.鈥�

Clarification on 6/9: The policy change allows students to indicate their chosen first and last names for their diplomas. A previous version of the story said the policy change only allowed students to indicate a chosen first name.

Last fall, 天美影视传媒 junior Caitlin Hillman headed to the Engineering Annex on her first day back since COVID-19 shut down campus. She was there for her inaugural meeting with the UW team for the 鈥� a four-year, multiuniversity competition in which students design and modify a car.

Hillman arrived an hour and a half early, so the team invited her to hang out while they worked on the car. She soaked up the flurry of activity around her.

鈥淚t was nice because I hadn’t had this whole team aspect since I was in high school,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t felt like,聽鈥楾here’s a ton of crazy things going on, but we’re going to have fun.鈥欌��

Sponsored by the U.S. Department of Energy, General Motors and MathWorks, the EcoCAR Mobility Challenge asked students to use electrification, advanced propulsion systems and automated vehicle technology to modify a 2019 Chevrolet Blazer. Students were charged with improving the car鈥檚 energy efficiency, safety and consumer appeal.

It鈥檚 an opportunity for students 鈥� across four years 鈥� to take a car from design to a consumer-ready product. The challenge culminated each year with a multiuniversity competition, and the final challenge took place from May 9 to 20 in Phoenix.

Like many student experiences, EcoCAR was interrupted during the pandemic. The was kept from working on the car for nearly a year. Then when they were allowed to return in winter 2021 they were limited in the number of people in the garage at once and the hours they could work. After the team regained full access to the garage this fall, they came together to push the project over the finish line 鈥� working hands-on as a team again.

The UW team modified the Chevrolet Blazer to blend electric and gas propulsion as it accelerates and reaches high speeds. Team members added adaptive cruise control, which automatically speeds up and slows the car according to the speed of the car in front of it, and a feature establishing connectivity between the car and traffic lights, adjusting the car鈥檚 behavior depending on the color of the light. The students also developed an app that teaches people how to use these features.

All this work was accomplished by a team of roughly 100 UW students, who rotated on and off depending on the dates they entered school and graduated. They were organized into six 鈥渟wimlanes,鈥� groups responsible for different parts of the project, including propulsion systems integration and system safety. The communications 鈥渟wimlane,鈥� which Hillman led, included sponsorships, website management and hosting events at area schools to get young people interested in STEM.

Students worked with an adviser at General Motors, along with faculty advisers.

“Growing up, I was more into rockets, and I didn’t really consider automotive engineering. Once I joined EcoCAR it transformed me into a car person. I鈥檓 obsessed now,鈥� said Noah Lin, a senior and UW EcoCAR鈥檚 engineering manager. 鈥淵ou can’t normally work on a car and talk to the engineer who made it.鈥�

Colleges across the country apply every four years to take part in EcoCAR. At the end of this cycle, 11 teams competed, and the UW was the only West Coast team that qualified.

At each year-end competition, teams were judged on different benchmarks showcasing their cars’ design, architecture, on-road safety and acceleration, energy consumption, autonomous features and more, in a series of events and presentations. They drove their completed cars at the final competition. The UW team placed tenth at the end of the challenge, disadvantaged against teams whose work on their cars was interrupted less by COVID restrictions.

But it鈥檚 not about winning, Lin says.

鈥淚 don’t really consider it a competition,鈥� he said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 because our teams help each other a lot. We’re more one giant team than 11 separate teams.鈥�

Case in point: A week before the Georgia Tech team was due to ship its car to Arizona, it faced a crisis. The electric motor in its car requested too much torque and its half shaft, which sits between the motor and the wheel, sheared in half. The UW team had a spare half shaft 颅鈥� and it already had a close relationship with the Georgia Tech team.

The UW team shipped its half shaft to Georgia Tech, whose team went on to in the overall competition. For its efforts, the UW team earned the EcoCAR Collaboration Award.

With its four-year cycle, EcoCAR gives students experience working on a big project with a schedule similar to the four-year design process in industry. And the type of engineering design they get to do is applicable to any field, making them attractive candidates for many employers. And it shows: EcoCAR alumni have a 95% hiring rate after college.

Bailey Deck, a UW senior and propulsion system integration lead, didn鈥檛 know much about cars when she started with the team as a freshman. But she learned a lot by jumping into the project and doing the work.

“As a woman going into engineering and in the automotive industry, it can be intimidating, and not knowing anything can feel like a major roadblock to feeling comfortable or feeling like you have space in the industry,鈥� she said. 鈥淭he biggest thing I learned is about asking for help 鈥� being vulnerable with not knowing things and learning how to teach yourself through a collaborative project.”

Deck translated her experience into the sustainable infrastructure field and is starting a job at McKinstry after graduation.

Ultimately, learning from each other and getting their hands dirty 鈥� together 鈥� is what made EcoCAR so meaningful for many students who had long been isolated by the pandemic.

鈥淚f I were by myself and I was just working on a car, it would be enriching but I wouldn’t love it half as much,鈥� said Lin the day after the end of the final competition. 鈥淲hat really made EcoCAR so amazing was working with the people there. It’s hitting me now that I’m going to be sad to not work with them anymore. My best memories of EcoCAR are the ones with all of them.鈥�

Joyce Yen honored with the Presidential Award for Excellence in Science, Mathematics and Engineering Mentoring

On Feb. 8, President Joe Biden Joyce Yen and 14 other individuals and organizations as recipients of the (PAESMEM). is the director of the UW鈥檚 , a program that works to eliminate underrepresentation of women faculty in STEM at the UW and beyond.

Established in 1995, PAESMEM recognizes the critical roles mentors play outside the traditional classroom in the academic and professional development of the future STEM workforce.

鈥淭his award not only validates the importance of mentoring, but it also elevates the intersection of excellence and diversity and those pushing the STEM ecosystem to be better,鈥� Yen said. 鈥淚 truly love the work I do fostering communities and cultures in STEM that support and advance inclusion and belonging.鈥�

In March, Yen was about the award, the work of the ADVANCE Center and the challenges of increasing women鈥檚 participation in STEM academic fields. Launched in 2001 with funding from the National Science Foundation, the center partners with faculty, chairs and leadership across campus to remove barriers for women faculty and develop accountability for institutional change.

Yen is following in the footsteps of two of her mentors, and , as PAESMEM awardees. Denton, the original principal investigator of the ADVANCE IT grant, was honored in 2003, and Riskin, the faculty director of the center, was honored in 2020.

Riskin nominated Yen for the award.

鈥淛oyce鈥檚 impact on the careers of so many faculty in STEM at UW and across the country has been profound,鈥� Riskin said. 鈥淪o many people are in rewarding careers thanks to Joyce鈥檚 efforts and support. I am so thrilled she was selected for this honor.鈥�

The National Science Foundation, which manages PAESMEM on behalf of the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy, provides each recipient $10,000.聽 Award recipients also receive a certificate signed by President Joe Biden.

The White House has invited the awardees from 2020 and 2021 to Washington, D.C. from May 24 to 26 for events that will include professional development activities as well as an awards ceremony and dinner. Both Yen and Riskin are planning to attend.

Professor Nathan Kutz elected SIAM fellow

, UW professor of applied mathematics, has been elected as a 2022 fellow of the (SIAM). Fellows are chosen for their exemplary and outstanding service to the community.

Kutz was recognized for his innovative contributions across many disciplines of applied mathematics. Most recently, he has pioneered contributions that integrate modern machine learning methods with traditional dynamical systems modeling. These innovations have paved the way for emerging methods to be applied to complex systems where many traditional applied mathematical methods have failed.

鈥淚 believe this award ultimately is a reflection of the exceptional graduate students and postdocs I have mentored in my time at the UW,鈥� Kutz said. 鈥淭hey have been the driving force and inspiration behind all the years of progressive developments leading to new paradigms and innovations in applied mathematics. I am truly thankful for the time I have had with each one of them in my journey of exploration.鈥�

Kutz joins the UW鈥檚 Anne Greenbaum, Randy LeVeque, Robert O鈥橫alley and Fred Wan as SIAM fellows.

鈥淭he department is honored to welcome a fifth SIAM Fellow among its ranks with the recent recognition of Professor Nathan Kutz,鈥� said , professor and chair of the Applied Math department. 鈥淩ecognitions like these reflect the outstanding quality present in the department, in these and many other areas of research.鈥�

Alexina Kublu wins 2022 Inuit Language Recognition Award

, an instructor in the UW , is one of three people to receive the 2022 . Kublu teaches Inuktitut, the Inuit language of Canada.

The award is given out by the Inuit Uqausinginnik Taiguusiliuqtiit board, the language authority created by the Legislative Assembly of Nunavut. Nunavut is a territory of northern Canada that stretches across 4 million square kilometers of the Canadian Arctic, and Inuktitut is one of its official languages.

Kublu, the former Languages Commissioner of Nunavut, teaches at the Nunavut Arctic College and the UW remotely from her home in Iqaluit, the capital of the territory. In December 2021, she taught classes to aspiring teachers as part of the Nunavut Arctic College鈥檚 teacher education program, which prepares students to become classroom teachers in the territory鈥檚 schools. The students in those classes nominated her for the award.

Kublu once lost her native language, so teaching it to others is personally meaningful for her.
Starting in the early 20th century, the Canadian government established racially segregated hospitals to treat Indigenous people for infections like tuberculosis. Children and adults received treatment, , for months or years at a time. Sent to one of these hospitals as a child, Kublu forgot how to speak Inuktitut while she was away.

But she learned her language again, thanks to her grandmother. That experience shaped how she teaches the language.

鈥淚 think I’m more able to see my language from an analytical point of view,鈥� Kublu said, 鈥渞ather than just something I speak.鈥�

Kublu teaches Inuktitut for the UW as a part of the , offered through the Canadian Studies Center. The fellowship supports students as they acquire a foreign language and conduct research related to Canada. In 2004, the Canadian Studies Center got its first fellowship application to learn Inuktitut. Since then, they鈥檝e awarded 38 of these fellowships to 17 students. Many of the students are conducting research in the Arctic, where the language is spoken.

The UW is the only institution in the U.S. offering students the chance to learn Canadian Inuit languages and the only institution in the U.S. awarding the Foreign Language and Area Studies Fellowship in Indigenous languages.

Nadine Fabbi, managing director of the Canadian Studies Center, says that Kublu鈥檚 award shows the high caliber of training fellows are receiving.

鈥淭his award just proves that Kublu is not only one of the foremost linguists in Inuktitut in Canada, but she鈥檚 also a good teacher,鈥� Fabbi said. 鈥淚’m just proud that this is a caliber of teaching that’s occurring for these fellowships. It鈥檚 a boon to the program to see that our language teachers are also the top of their field.鈥�

Many of us started pandemic projects over the past two years, getting creative with activities like baking bread and learning to sew.

and created something, too.

The married couple, both professors in the UW Jackson School of International Studies, are co-editors of the first , published online in September 2020 and in print in January 2022. They worked with dozens of collaborators around the world to add the topic to the respected collection of Oxford Handbooks that presents surveys of original research.

鈥淭he handbooks are kind of like those conversations with one of your faculty members who knows the field really well,鈥� Robert said, 鈥渂ut it鈥檚 in a written form available for anyone.鈥�

That鈥檚 why Saadia calls it 鈥渁n ideal project for the pandemic.鈥� It required experts to take their research and put it into an accessible format: the platform, which is available to many through the subscription of their academic institutions.

This volume鈥檚 46 essays span the breadth of Japanese politics, from describing the political system to examining the country鈥檚 status within the region and world. It gives its audience 鈥� students and scholars 鈥� an overview of the field, while also providing a baseline of knowledge for anybody interested in Japanese politics.

First approached by Oxford University Press about the project in 2017, the couple decided what topics to cover and chose leading experts to contribute essays and research. Robert took the lead on domestic politics and Saadia headed foreign relations.

As a unifying theme, they asked every author to evaluate Japanese democracy, especially relevant at a time when democratic systems around the world are being challenged. The authors concluded that Japanese democracy is robust and healthy. In one measure, a by the nonprofit Freedom House, the country rated 96 out of 100.

Unlike the United States, Japan has not been as impacted by forces like populism, polarization and challenges to electoral integrity, Robert said.

鈥淛apan鈥檚 democracy seems to be flourishing,鈥� he said, 鈥渆ven as America鈥檚 democracy seems to be increasingly under threat.鈥�

Saadia said a country鈥檚 internal democratic processes influence stances it takes in the region and on the world stage. Japan鈥檚 processes can help people understand its role in the Asia-Pacific region as China rises in power.

鈥淛apan is clearly on the side of the democracies,鈥� she said. 鈥淛apan is very purposeful, it鈥檚 very powerful and it鈥檚 not a junior partner to the United States. So how democracy helps Japan take that stand going forward is extremely important for understanding regional stability.鈥�

Robert and Saadia are proud of the contribution they鈥檝e made to the field 鈥� and how the Oxford Handbook Online platform 鈥渆qualizes access鈥� to their volume by making it more searchable, easier to assign in classrooms and more accessible to students on limited budgets.

They also enjoyed working with top scholars, who don鈥檛 get paid for their contributions but share their research as a service.

鈥淚t was terrific to learn from the best,鈥� Saadia said. 鈥淚 loved it. The handbook was really a joy to edit in that sense.鈥�

Another joy? Robert said it was working with his 鈥渇avorite collaborator ever.鈥� While many couples learned the limits of their relationships during the pandemic, Robert and Saadia discovered just how well they work together. 鈥淚 would write a book with Robert again,鈥� Saadia said. 鈥淚 think that鈥檚 good testimony to a wonderful collaborative relationship.鈥�

As societies evolve to become more inclusive, languages are changing too. Words once in common use are being reconsidered as inaccurate or harmful, and more inclusive words are taking their places. People are using or creating pronouns that more closely match their gender. To describe nonbinary people, gender-neutral pronouns are being added to languages like , and .

In the United States, use of the singular 鈥渢hey鈥� as a pronoun for nonbinary people was added to Merriam-Webster鈥檚 Collegiate Dictionary in 2019 with little contention, even becoming the dictionary鈥檚 for that year.

But when Le Robert, a respected dictionary in France, tried last November to add a gender-neutral pronoun 鈥� 鈥渋el,鈥� a pronoun becoming widely adopted by the nonbinary community 鈥� . Political figures, including a member of the French Parliament and the First Lady, came out strongly in opposition. French Minister of Education Jean-Michel Blanquer went so far as to say, 鈥淚nclusive writing is not the future of the French language.鈥�

This controversy made the work of , associate professor of French at the 天美影视传媒, especially relevant. Alongside Vinay Swamy of Vassar College, Mackenzie co-edited and contributed to a volume called , or 鈥淏ecoming Nonbinary in Contemporary French.鈥� It was released in February by the academic press 脡ditions Le Manuscrit in Paris.

鈥淎lmost everything in the French language is gendered in ways we don’t have to think about in English,鈥� Mackenzie said, pointing out there is no neutral gender for nouns and adjectives in French like there is in Latin, from which it derives.

In French, the default when the gender is unknown or when referring to a group of people of mixed genders is to use the masculine form of the word. 鈥淪trict grammarians will argue that the dominance of masculine forms has nothing to do with social reality. Sociolinguists tend to argue that there is a feedback loop between linguistic rules and social norms,鈥� Mackenzie said. 鈥淚t’s a very active and legitimate debate.鈥�

The volume incorporates the voices of eight contributors, including Mackenzie and Swamy, from the United States, France and Canada. Along with academics, there are perspectives from a user experience researcher, two activists, an author who is a linguist and a cartoonist. Together, they describe 鈥渢he many ways in which French speakers and learners have long been creatively navigating the constraints of their language in order to create new cultures and communities that reflect who they are.鈥�

Mackenzie answered questions over email about why the French gender-neutral pronoun caused such a hubbub 鈥� and the role of tensions with the United States.

Is the French language more resistant to change than other languages?

LM: The answer depends on where the French language is being spoken! In France itself, I would argue that yes, there is a lot of resistance to change. Much of it comes from the authority of the French Academy, founded in the 17th century by the Cardinal Richelieu, which still exists today. It’s a government institution whose mission is literally to defend the French language 鈥� there’s no equivalent in most other countries. They have a very prescriptive attitude toward language, and their linguists often issue clarifications and proclamations about what they call 鈥渓e bon usage鈥� or 鈥渃orrect usage.鈥�

One of their main preoccupations is to find acceptable equivalents to popular Anglicisms in French. They see English as one of the main threats to French. Certainly, the question of nonbinary French is seen by some as an unwelcome influence from Anglophone culture.

In other Francophone countries, such as Canada, Belgium and Switzerland, there seems to be more acceptance of change as a natural part of language evolution, and they are less fiercely resistant to the influence of Anglophone culture. In former French colonies or overseas territories, the language issue is so tied up with the violence of colonial history that it’s hard to compare. French may be an official language spoken in the government, but it replaced and/or coexists with indigenous languages in ways that make the question of change really complicated.

How does this controversy reflect the politics of France?

The previous answer is relevant here in that the French Academy is still partially funded by the government. Language in France is political and tied up with national identity in ways that can surprise outsiders.

The controversy about gender-neutral pronouns is bound up in the debate about 鈥渓e wokisme,鈥� which is a new French term 鈥� ironically, an Anglicism 鈥� implying that progressive movements are somehow not French, and that U.S. activism is fracturing French society from the outside. The French are quite attached to a concept called universalism, which holds that individual differences are not as important in political life as the collective cohesion of the state. For adherents of universalism, insisting on the rights of specific minority groups can be destabilizing to the body politic.

Dismissing gender-neutral pronouns as 鈥渓e wokisme鈥� is a way to delegitimize them by associating them with something that’s not French. Of course, nonbinary people exist and have always existed in France 鈥� they are not being planted there by a nefarious U.S. woke agenda 鈥� but it’s very hard for them to convince their government of that!

Tell me about the range of perspectives you’ve gathered in this volume.

Our authors discuss strategies for teaching inclusive French beyond the binary, the ways in which young genderqueer French people play with grammatical rules to express their sense of self, the relationship between feminism and trans rights, and the role of popular media and culture in normalizing non-normative genders. They also discuss the need to go beyond the reflexive dismissal of nonbinary identity as an 鈥淎merican import鈥� by respecting the fact that French nonbinary people exist on their own terms and the idea that the French language might be less binary than it might seem at first.

Our volume is more interested in describing these changes as they are happening, rather than issuing a set of prescriptions for what we think should happen. Nonbinary French speakers are changing their language to reflect their identity, and we have been lucky to be able to observe and to shine a bit of light on what they are doing.

What is the way forward to make the French language more gender-inclusive?

I think we’re witnessing it in real time, which is really exciting. There are more and more media outlets and publishers using so-called 鈥渋nclusive writing.鈥� This is a set of strategies that allow you to keep from defaulting to the masculine forms of words, for example by bringing in the feminine form, too; by combining forms with a punctuation mark called the ; or by using an word (one that does not change form and/or does not change gender).

These strategies are still binary, of course. We are also seeing French nonbinary people finding creative ways to avoid binary gender entirely by coming up with new forms and systems. In time, some of these forms and systems will acquire legitimacy, in the same way that 鈥渢hey/them鈥� is becoming normalized in English. It’s language change in action.

When language changes to reflect social reality, there is always resistance, but in hindsight it can be hard to imagine what the fuss was about. Some of us remember the fierce resistance to neutral terms such as 鈥渇light attendant鈥� or 鈥渕ail carrier,鈥� terms which are completely normal now and used even by the most gender-conservative speakers! I think we’ll get there with 鈥渢hey/them鈥� in English, and that French equivalents will likewise become more standard, but that it will take a bit longer for both linguistic and political reasons.

For more information, contact Mackenzie at louisam@uw.edu.

is a professor of anthropology at the 天美影视传媒 whose expertise is Ukrainian culture and society. The daughter of Ukrainian Americans, she鈥檚 been wanting to return to Ukraine to finish research on her next book. Now, she can鈥檛 wait to go back, and she might not be going back alone.

鈥淢y daughter is 17, and she was like, 鈥楳om, you know I’ve been talking about that gap year in Ukraine. Maybe I can help rebuild,鈥欌�� Bilaniuk said.

While her family fled the country during World War II, Bilaniuk has colleagues and close friends in Ukraine. Watching the events there has been 鈥済ut-wrenching,鈥� she said, but it鈥檚 motivated her to take action.

Bilaniuk helped two visiting scholars from Ukraine 鈥� Sofiia Fedzhora, a Fulbright Foreign Language teaching assistant, and Olena Bidovanets, a graduate student in global health 鈥� organize a rally supporting the country on the UW campus last week. She鈥檚 also attended other rallies and been part of other organizing efforts.

鈥淚’m torn between feeling completely disempowered and afraid of what can happen 鈥� in terms of the massive killing and loss of life,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd I am inspired by what these people are doing and their strength of spirit and readiness to lay down their lives.鈥�

Everyday Ukrainians are joining the , a volunteer branch of civilian reservists led by professional soldiers, and fighting back in the midst of Russian tanks and bombings. And if they aren鈥檛 joining the resistance through combat, they are finding , whether it鈥檚 by distributing food, giving blood or more.

These are the signs of a 鈥渘ew kind of nation鈥� that Russian President Vladimir Putin didn鈥檛 expect to encounter, Bilaniuk says.

When Putin first came to power, the Ukrainian people were emerging from the Soviet era, and they were used to the state taking care of them, she adds. That changed over time, reaching a turning point with 2014鈥檚 Revolution of Dignity. Government forces killed protesters, and then-President Viktor Yanukovych was ousted from power, which also led to Russia鈥檚 annexation of Crimea and intervention to establish the separatist regions in Donbas. The Ukrainian people鈥檚 mistrust of government that followed led to an increase in volunteerism and grassroots organizing.

鈥淧eople realized that it’s their country, and they need to forge it into what they want it to be,鈥� Bilaniuk said.

Ukrainians are now fighting for their lives and the vision they have for their country: 鈥淭hose outside of Ukraine say, 鈥榃e don鈥檛 want World War III.鈥� For Ukraine, this is already World War III.鈥�

Bilaniuk is a linguistic anthropologist who on how language in Ukraine is related to social divisions deeply rooted in history and ideology. Both Russian and Ukrainian are spoken 鈥� bilingualism that鈥檚 reflected, for example, in the two versions of the name for the nation鈥檚 capital: Kyiv (pronounced KAY-YEEV), which is the Ukrainian pronunciation of the name, and Kiev (pronounced KEE-YEV), the Russian counterpart.

During the Soviet era, the Russian language was encouraged, and Ukrainian was suppressed. Since Ukrainian independence in 1991, though, speaking Russian or Ukrainian was more a sign of your profession or whether you lived in urban or rural environments 鈥� where, respectively, Russian and Ukrainian are more common 鈥� rather than a sign of nationalism.

But that changed, Bilaniuk says, when Putin politicized language in 2014. He said Russian-language speakers were being oppressed by the requirement to learn Ukrainian as the language of state, using that as an excuse to intervene in Donbas. Since then, speaking Ukrainian has become 鈥減otently symbolic,鈥� and motivated more people to learn the language.

Now many leaders of activist groups fighting the Russian invasion use Ukrainian, even if they are ethnically Russian or grew up speaking Russian.

Bilaniuk is leveraging her expertise on Ukrainian culture and has spoken to news media about the perspectives of local Ukrainians.

She says local Ukrainian community groups are focusing on several priorities: Fighting misinformation spread by the Russian government that Ukraine is a fascist puppet of the United States; and countering messages within the United States that intervention in Ukraine is an extension of imperialism.

Community groups are coordinating aid and have already chartered a jet to take supplies, including diapers, food and bulletproof vests, to Poland for distribution in Ukraine. There is also a lobbying effort to encourage the state government to break off ties to Russian businesses.

For those in the U.S. who feel helpless watching what鈥檚 going on in Ukraine, Bilaniuk has a simple message: Look to the Ukrainian people.

鈥淚n Ukraine they’ve tasted freedom, and they do not think that a life without that is worth it. So they’re willing to lay it all on the line,鈥� she said. 鈥淭hey are rejecting the pathos. They鈥檇 say, 鈥楧on鈥檛 cry to me. Don鈥檛 tell us how afraid you are. Worry, yes, but do something.鈥欌��

Bilaniuk is a panelist for the event taking place on Zoom at 4 p.m. on Monday, March 7. The event is sponsored by the UW鈥檚 Ellison Center for Russian, East European and Central Asian Studies; Jackson School of International Studies; Center for West European Studies; and the European, Russian, and Central Asian Initiative.

The 鈥淛eopardy! College National Championship鈥� kicked off Feb. 8 on prime time, bringing together undergraduate students from 36 U.S. colleges and universities.

Kaden Lee, a UW junior from Medical Lake, Washington, majoring in aeronautics and astronautics, appeared in the tournament on Feb. 11. Lee, who uses the pronouns she/they/he, competed against Jess Agyepong of Howard University and Liz Feltner of Northeastern University. Feltner moved on to the tournament鈥檚 semifinals, and Lee came in second place.

Lee has been playing competitive trivia since high school, where they won the state Knowledge Bowl tournament with their high school team. They now compete on the UW鈥檚 team for , which Lee describes as 鈥渄efinitely a little more on the academic side鈥� than 鈥淛eopardy!鈥�

Lee鈥檚 journey to 鈥淛eopardy!,鈥� already chronicled in interviews with and , began with an unsuccessful try in high school. In early 2021, Lee got another shot at 鈥淛eopardy!鈥�, this time for the college tournament. Lee made it to the audition stage, where they played a practice game and interviewed over Zoom, then went to Culver City, California, around Thanksgiving.

UW Notebook talked to Lee about the experience of competing, the people they met, 鈥淛eopardy!鈥� strategy 鈥� and life after 15 minutes of fame. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Thank you for representing the UW. We were all really excited to see you on 鈥淛eopardy!鈥�

KL: We haven’t had another contestant since 2000, so we haven’t had a contestant since roughly when I was born. It was also kind of surreal to be the only person from the entire Pacific Northwest, because I was representing a whole region. There were mostly a lot of East Coast schools.

Representing a public school is another interesting point, because you’re going up against seven-out-of-eight Ivy League schools 鈥� you’re going up against MIT. So it’s just nice to be on the same stage competing and know that I’m there at the same caliber.

Mostly, I tried not to compare myself too much to the other people there, because I felt like I would have been comparing myself to the idea of what I thought the school is. In actuality, I think that education is education. Education is more of what you put into it than anything.

How much did you get to spend time with the other contestants and connect with them?

KL: Pretty much every moment that we weren’t busy filming I was probably hanging out with somebody. My big fear when I showed up was that everybody was going to be very competitive. And we showed up, and it was the most joyous, jovial environment possible. Many of us just were elated to be there because we all shared a very common bond: watching this quiz TV show since we were children and then getting to meet each other.

You’re not allowed to have your phones, because you can’t spoil the results and you can’t be videotaping anything. All we have to do the whole time is talk to each other 鈥� so we better like each other 鈥� and by the end of it we all pretty much did. I loved every single person that I met. We still hang out. We have a big group chat together.

What did you do when your episode aired?

KL: I kind of hopped around to a bunch of places. I did stuff on Friday night when the game aired, and then I did stuff on Saturday night when it was on Hulu.

It’s fun watching 鈥淛eopardy!鈥� with people who don’t normally watch it. Usually when I watch, it鈥檚 with people who are all pretty competitive. It was fun to watch it with people who haven’t seen 鈥淛eopardy!鈥� in a while and then watch the genuine excitement they feel when they get one right.

That’s my favorite 鈥� seeing a person get a question who never thinks that they’ll get a question. I love celebrating when other people get stuff right. That鈥檚 why I kind of take on more of a reading role [in trivia competitions]. I like to give people the opportunity to prove how intelligent they are, mostly to themselves.

Let’s get into the nitty gritty of the game. What categories were you excited to see?

KL: I was very excited when I had a literature category, because in Quiz Bowl I tend to specialize in lit. It didn’t go well for me 鈥� and I was very upset about it because I know both of the books for the questions I got wrong.

The 鈥淔amous Aquarians鈥� category was a weird one. I remember not quite understanding what that category was going to be about right off the bat and just wanting to stay away from it.聽 I liked 鈥淣otable African Americans鈥� 鈥� that was a really good one because it covered a lot of history content that I knew.

I love literature, I always love art, but on my board, specifically, I think I was really excited when I saw a question with the word 鈥淪nohomish鈥� in it. Then Liz beat me to it.

A lot of how I played was essentially either just looking for Daily Doubles or playing in a slightly random way in order to maybe throw people off.

I saw in one of your interviews that you discussed your strategy for tackling the board. You said you just wanted to be comfortable.

KL: There’s a lot of discourse right now about how you should play 鈥淛eopardy!鈥� And a lot of people say you should play with that strict bottom-up strategy [starting with highest value clues]. And the real truth is that you should play that bottom-up way if you’re always in control of the board, but you’re not always going to be in control of the board 鈥� especially when playing against someone as good as Jess.

She was one of the most threatening people at the whole tournament, based on talking to people and then knowing her background, knowing she had been such a prolific Quiz Bowl player. And her demeanor going up to the stage: I could tell that she was very focused and very much wanted to do well. And her buzzer speed was just insane. I know her buzzer percentage [the percentage of times she buzzed in] was definitely higher than mine.

Knowing that Jess was probably going to be able to have control of the board, I knew that I wasn’t really going to be able to dictate the flow of play. I was more concerned about getting onto a category and then knowing what category to choose. The advantage of that is that the other players have to react to what category you say.

How did you prepare for 鈥淛eopardy!鈥�?

KL: I stood while reading through [an online archive of 鈥淛eopardy!鈥� questions]. Or having people read for me and then standing while doing it. Because when you sit at home on your couch it’s great, but it’s an entirely different experience standing up with bright stage lights at 9 a.m.

I liked practicing while I was out of breath, because I felt like, if I could keep my mind straight enough to think about the categories and think about the answers while barely being able to breathe, it would work. I鈥檇 do that, while I was either walking or running.

Sometimes I would practice with a little desk lamp facing me, so I was used to being flooded out with light, which definitely did help because I was used to feeling light directly on me.

What advice do you have for people who want to get on 鈥淛eopardy!鈥�?

KL: If you want to buckle down and try to study all of the material, there are a lot of guides on how to do that. But you can’t just drop everything in your life and start studying. I’m a college student. I had to do homework.

The biggest thing I would say is to take the to try out for it, because you never know. I didn’t think I would ever make it. And I got on, and I was shocked. I cried in the Cedar Hall Residents Office about it. I’m an RA, and I was doing my office hours at the time. I got the call and I freaked out.

Is it true you can鈥檛 go on 鈥淛eopardy!鈥� again?

KL: I believe you can be on 鈥淛eopardy!鈥� only one time. Now I don’t have to worry about trying to get better at 鈥淛eopardy!鈥� anymore. Watching it is so nice, because I can miss a question and say, 鈥淥h well, that’s not a big deal.鈥� I can go back to being a casual observer. I don’t have to worry about trying to optimize my play and thinking, 鈥淥h, you should bet correctly,鈥� and 鈥淲hat math do I do here?鈥� I now watch the show like a TV show, and that, in itself, is kind of beautiful.

Answers: What is the NAACP?, What are apples?, What is vandalism?

Elvi Olano had been working for only a month as a custodian when she had an experience she鈥檚 never forgotten. While she was cleaning a bathroom, a professor walked in and yelled at her for keeping him, and the students around him, from using it. When she apologized, he said, 鈥淵ou鈥檙e ridiculous.鈥�

Olano, an immigrant from the Philippines, didn鈥檛 have strong English skills at the time, so she didn鈥檛 know what 鈥渞idiculous鈥� meant 鈥� although she could tell he was angry from the tone of his voice. As the students stared at her, she started to cry.

A friend helped her report the incident, and news of it made its way to the department chair. The chair called a meeting the next morning to make it clear behavior like that wasn鈥檛 acceptable. But for Olano, remembering the humiliation still hurts, 16 years later.

鈥淭hey should respect us,鈥� she said, referring to professors, students and all those who benefit from her work.

The is calling on the UW community to do just that. The volunteer-led effort, which is not affiliated with UW, is advocating for custodians, lifting their voices and raising awareness about their important roles on campus. As part of the project, an art exhibit called 鈥�(in)Visibility鈥� is hanging in UW Tower through March. It features photos taken by 16 custodians, paired with their testimonials.

The UW Custodian Project was started in March 2020 by Evalynn Fae Taganna Romano, the daughter of two UW custodians who earned her bachelor鈥檚 degree, and master鈥檚 degrees in social work and in public health, from the UW. Custodians were continuing to report to work while the COVID-19 pandemic shut down much of campus life.

Inspired by her parents 鈥� who dedicated a total of nearly six decades to cleaning UW buildings 鈥� Romano brought food, coffee, hand-sewn masks and thank-you cards to custodians once a week, with support from friends, businesses and community organizations.

From there, the project grew from a way to show appreciation to include direct services and a larger advocacy effort. Many campus custodians are immigrants, refugees and people of color, groups that often are more vulnerable due to health and social inequities.

鈥淐ustodians might not feel comfortable telling leadership to their face what they need, and I think it’s really important to think about how to create intentional spaces for them to do that,鈥� Romano said. 鈥淯W has a responsibility to take actions and structure policies that recognize the value and ensure the safety of their essential workers.鈥�

Romano based 鈥�(in)Visibility鈥� on a method she learned about while pursuing her master鈥檚 in public health and later used for her thesis. Called , it incorporates voices of community members in research. She started recruiting participants for photography-based storytelling sessions in August 2020 to learn more about the health impacts of their workplace and home. She then asked custodians to take photos and conducted group sessions with the custodians to collect their testimonials.

The exhibit made its debut in the Art Building in September 2021 鈥� the building Romano鈥檚 mother has been caring for since 1997 鈥� with the idea that it would rotate to a different building on campus each quarter.

The photos, documenting custodians鈥� lives on and off campus, reflect the time we live in. One picture entitled 鈥淢y Yellow Shield鈥� shows a custodian鈥檚 cart. In the accompanying quote, the custodian talks about how the cleaning materials in the cart shield us from COVID-19.

Gina Tabasan took a picture of one of the surgical masks she receives at work each day. “I was thinking, will this help us for preventing COVID?鈥� Tabasan said in an interview. 鈥淥r how will it help if we don’t have the shot yet? How will it help if it鈥檚 wet?”

Olano took a picture of her squash plant. She eats squash every day because 鈥渋t’s one of the fruits that can be a vitamin for health” 鈥� something that has been particularly important to her as she looks for protection from COVID-19.

These photos capture the anxiety custodians experienced during the height of the pandemic.

“It was horrible, it really was,鈥� said a custodian, who wishes to be identified by her initials, K.P. Although UW provided some protective equipment, K.P. said it was unnerving going into an uncertain environment. 鈥淲e didn’t know what we were going to be exposed to. We had to do all this extra deep cleaning.鈥�

Another theme of the exhibit is the pride the custodians have in their work. Photos show clean floors, custodians on the job or the machines they use.

鈥淏eing a custodian is not as easy as people think,鈥� Tabasan said. 鈥淎 nurse or a doctor, they save lives. We save them, too, because without us, buildings are dirty. Students and staff can get sick. We are the army protecting you from the garbage.鈥�

Photos also show things or practices that bring comfort, like birds on campus or a walk during break time. K.P.鈥檚 photo is of artwork with lines from a Native American proverb, reflecting her heritage: 鈥淟ive strong as the mountains. Walk tall as the trees. Be known by the tracks that you leave.鈥�

Romano said her childhood was filled with memories of going to other custodians鈥� homes with her parents. When she was a student, she鈥檇 drop in at lunchtime potlucks. Tabasan and Olano get relief from their jobs by taking breaks together, an activity that has been restricted during the pandemic. Many extend this feeling of camaraderie to the UW community.

鈥淚 can’t speak for all custodians, but I know that there are a lot of them who see people on campus like family, especially the people they interact with,鈥� Romano said. 鈥淢uch like you would with your family, they see it as their job to protect them and make sure that they’re safe and healthy.鈥�

And sometimes people show that the feeling is mutual. Olano remembers a professor who offered to help her with the U.S. citizenship test. Olano was scared that she wouldn鈥檛 be able to pass, but the professor took time to get to know her, which made Olano comfortable enough to try. The professor then tutored her every day for three weeks.

“It was the happiest moment I had here. I passed the citizenship test,鈥� Olano said. 鈥淚 cannot forget her.”

The custodians interviewed for this story say that they don鈥檛 always feel the care they give is returned 鈥� for example, when people throw garbage on the floor. But there are also many who say hello and express thanks, a gesture the custodians all said they appreciate.

“I love to be here. I love to see all the faces. I love to talk. I love to say 鈥榟i鈥� and 鈥榖ye,鈥欌�� said Elsa Tesfai. 鈥淪ome people will talk to you about their lives, and they come to me like a human being. I feel so happy when they tell me their story, because they don’t just say, ‘She’s a custodian. Why do I have to speak with her?’鈥�

Tesfai arrived in the U.S. in 1991 as a refugee from East Africa with two children. She went to community college but for only two quarters. It was hard to get childcare, and she had to take a bus across town. Now, she watches students pursue a dream that wasn鈥檛 available to her. Missing the connection with the people on campus, along with the fear of COVID-19, is what made the height of the pandemic so hard for her.

“It was ugly because no one was here. Even though we got paid, I didn鈥檛 have peace in my heart,鈥� Tesfai said. 鈥淚 have to see them getting their education. For me, if I don’t see them, I’m suffering.”

鈥�(in)Visibility鈥� is on display in UW Tower on the lobby level past the elevators through March 31.