Originally posted by Ryo-Ohki
So how about a black medical school applicant who has as much wealth, income and educational preparation as a white or Asian applicant? Do you still advocate AA for him?
jlee is absolutely correct. People always bring up this hypothetical case but on average black medical school applicants have substantially lower incomes than white applicants.
Also the effects of racism and discrimination are tough to quantify - how could you possibly take into account the effects of not having enough role models (there are extremely small numbers of black faculty members and physicians)? How can you take into account the effects of prejudicial attitudes or stereotypes?
Also you have to consider that even if a black student is well off - how is he/she compared to his/her peers at his school? Often times, good public/private schools can also be stratified by income/ethnicity. The black student might be the only black student in the school and he/she might be substantially less well off than his/her peers.
Also the rich black applicant is not isolated from society - more often than not, people don't make distinctions between rich and poor blacks. Negative portrayals of blacks in society and the media can have unquantifiable impacts on academic success. Take a look at Claude Steele's work for example.
I found a small snippet of some of his research online:
http://www.umich.edu/~urel/admissions/legal/expert/steele.html
"My research, and that of my colleagues, has isolated a factor that can depress the standardized test performance of minority students--a factor we call stereotype threat. This refers to the experience of being in a situation where one recognizes that a negative stereotype about one's group is applicable to oneself. When this happens, one knows that one could be judged or treated in terms of that stereotype, or that one could inadvertently do something that would confirm it. In situations where one cares very much about one's performance or related outcomes--as in the case of serious students taking the SAT--this threat of being negatively stereotyped can be upsetting and distracting. Our research confirms that when this threat occurs in the midst of taking a high stakes standardized test, it directly interferes with performance.
In matters of race we often assume that once a situation is objectively the same for different groups, that it is experienced the same by each group. This assumption might seem especially reasonable in the case of "standardized" cognitive tests. But for Black students, unlike White students, the experience of difficulty on the test makes the negative stereotype about their group relevant as an interpretation of their performance, and of them. Thus they know as they meet frustration that they are especially likely to be seen through the lens of the stereotype as having limited ability. For those Black students who care very much about performing well, this is an extra intimidation not experienced by groups not stereotyped in this way. And it is a serious intimidation, implying, as it does, that they may not belong in walks of life where the tested abilities are important, walks of life in which they are heavily invested. Like many pressures, it may not be fully conscious, but it may be enough to impair their best thinking.
To test this idea, Joshua Aronson and I asked Black and White Stanford students into our laboratory and, one at a time, gave them a very difficult 30-minute verbal test, the items of which came from the advanced Graduate Record Examination in literature. The bulk of these students were sophomores, which meant that the test would be difficult for them--precisely the feature that we reasoned would make this simple testing situation different for our Black participants than for our White participants. We told each student that we were testing ability.
Black students performed dramatically worse than White students on the test. As we had statistically equated both groups on ability level, the differences in performance were not because the Black students had weaker skills than the White students. Something else was involved. Before we could confirm that that "something else" was stereotype threat, we had to control for the possibility that the Black students performed worse than the White students because they were less motivated or because their skills could be somehow less easily extrapolated to the advanced material of this test. We concluded that if stereotype threat and not something about these students themselves had caused their poorer test performance, then doing something that would reduce this threat during the test should allow their performance to improve, to go up to the level of equally capable White students. We devised a simple way to test this: We presented another group of Black and White sophomores, again statistically equated on ability level, the same test we had used before--not as a test of ability, but as a "problem-solving" task that had nothing to do with ability. This made the stereotype about Blacks' ability irrelevant to their performance on the task since, ostensibly, the task did not measure ability. A simple instruction, yes, but it profoundly changed the meaning of the situation. It told Black participants that the racial stereotype about their ability was irrelevant to their performance on this particular task. In the stroke of an instruction, the "stereotype spotlight," as psychologist Bill Cross once called it, was turned off.
As a result, Black students' performance on this test matched the performance of equally qualified Whites. With the stereotype spotlight on, Blacks performed dramatically worse than Whites; with it off, they performed the same. Thus, stereotype threat of the sort that we argue characterizes the daily experiences of Black students on predominantly White campuses and in a predominantly White society, can directly affect important intellectual performances such as standardized test performance.
But it has broader effects too. Stereotype threat follows its targets onto campus, affecting behaviors of theirs that are as varied as participating in class, seeking help from faculty, contact with students in other groups, and so on. And as it becomes a chronic feature of one's school environment, it can cause what we have called "disidentification"; the realignment of one's self-concept and values so that one's self-regard no longer depends on how well one does in that environment. Disidentification relieves the pain of stereotype threat by breaking identification with the part of life where the pain occurs, which necessarily includes a loss of motivation to succeed in that part of life. When school is the part of life where stereotype threat is felt--as for women in advanced math or African Americans in all areas--disidentification can be a costly and life-altering adaptation. "