Two student cultural clubs have chosen to cut ties with the University of Utah after members say they faced new limits on what they could talk about during events — including no conversations about race or identity — and had their funding stripped in the continued fallout from the state’s anti-diversity law.
Administrators also suggested that the Black Student Union consider changing its historic name so “no one would feel excluded,” said President Nevaeh Parker.
“No way,” she said. “We refuse to go backward. We’re not erasing the legacy and the community we’ve built.”
Instead, she and the other leaders of the BSU posted a widely-shared letter on Instagram in October explaining their decision to withdraw from the U.’s sponsorship. They followed the Pacific Islander Student Association, or PISA, at the U., which had had done the same two months earlier.
Now, both groups are no longer formally associated with the state’s flagship school. Club leaders say that operating independently is the only way they can have a voice in a state they feel is actively trying to keep them from having one.
“We’ve been running as an organization for 32 years, and we can’t stop there,” said PISA President ‘Alisi Fihaki.
The restrictions on clubs are the latest development in the rollout of HB261, which was passed by the Republican-majority state Legislature in January and signed into law by Utah Gov. Spencer Cox. The controversial bill took aim at diversity, equity and inclusion, or DEI, efforts across the state’s public institutions of higher education.
Utah’s bill was touted for being more narrow than what’s been enacted in other red states. Instead of a full elimination and budget cut, all Utah colleges and universities were required to make resources generally available to all students, with generic support and success centers that aren’t based on specific identities. Any programming based on race or gender had to go.
But the impacts have been more far-reaching than lawmakers promised and than many students expected. It was a shock to some in July when most schools in the state — including the U. — shuttered their longstanding cultural centers. Some have since been replaced by general student centers.
The law and the bill’s sponsor had explicitly allowed cultural centers to remain open, as long as the spaces were open to all. Some schools, though, have said because they wouldn’t be allowed to offer resources at them, they would not be worth maintaining. And Utah’s higher education commissioner said shutting them down was “an inevitability” anyway.
Student clubs were to remain untouched, Rep. Katy Hall, R-South Ogden, said when presenting HB261 during the legislative session — as long as “they don’t exclude people who want to be in their group.”
Hall also said: “I don’t think it’s going to have as big of an impact as you might think.”
Both PISA and the BSU said their events were always open to anyone who wanted to join and learn. But they say they were told by the U. that they would have to make additional changes to abide by the law.
The irony is, Parker said, now they’re feeling shut out.
The U. says it had to follow the law
The University of Utah says it had no choice but to enforce new restrictions on the cultural clubs. In response to questions from The Salt Lake Tribune, a U. spokesperson pointed to guidance from the Utah System of Higher Education, which oversees the public colleges and universities in the state.
That guidance read: “Student organizations operating as formal administrative units are subject to the provisions of HB261.”
BSU and PISA were formally sponsored by the school, the U. said. That means they received funding from the school and from donors, were assigned a university adviser and that both groups applied to the new law.
The school’s own rulebook defines sponsored clubs as “integral to the mission and culture of the university” and “inherently linked to the university.” Student government falls under that, too.
Other student clubs that are “registered” don’t fall under the new rules because they don’t get money from the university. They also don’t have the same access, such as not being allowed to use university trademarks and not having a reserved space on campus.
The U. sent out a letter to the leaders of sponsored clubs on June 28, noting they “may be at risk of non-compliance” and advising them to reach out to the school’s Office of General Counsel to work through concerns. It suggested that those who didn’t think they could comply with HB261 volunteer to become “registered” groups instead.
The letter mentioned that sponsored clubs couldn’t take public positions on political or social issues outside of the university’s mission. And it said any events held had to be for educational purposes.
But both BSU and PISA leaders say they feel misled. None of the information they received over the summer, before the new school year started, said they couldn’t continue to hold the same events they had been, which were open to all. And no guidance indicated they couldn’t discuss issues, like the biases they say they’ve dealt with — as long as they didn’t take a formal stance.
Nothing said club social media posts would need to be reviewed by a university staff member. And nothing said they would lose their funding.
The Tribune reviewed the letters sent out to students, as well as a presentation given to staff, and confirmed those details were not provided in the materials.
“We had been told that we’d having funding, space, storage, everything we had before,” Fihaki said. “Then everything flipped right before the semester started.”
Fihaki and Parker both said they’d been operating on budgets of $11,000. Now, they were going to have nothing. That means they haven’t purchased snacks for student gatherings and haven’t funded the bigger events they’ve traditionally held — like BSU’s annual Soulfest about Black culture, or PISA’s annual high school conference.
“We were trying so hard to stay within the lines of sponsorship,” Parker said. “We really struggled with making this decision.”
The university confirmed it is no longer distributing funds to identity-based sponsored clubs. Those resources have instead been reallocated to the generic Center for Cultural and Community Engagement (which replaced the former Center for Equity and Student Belonging) and Student Leadership and Involvement.
Any funds the clubs brought into their accounts prior to the change were returned, except for donations, which will require a separate analysis because of tax implications.
In a statement, the U.’s spokesperson Rebecca Walsh said changing student clubs’ status “from ‘sponsored’ to ‘registered’ preserves their independence to continue working with a community of students, faculty and staff without limitation on their communication and activities.”
Black Student Union wants a safe campus space
Every public college campus in Utah — a predominantly white state — has a majority of white students. At the University of Utah, just 1% of the student body is Black.
For Sadie Werner, a Black student who was adopted by white parents here, finding the Black Student Union was vital. It gave her a space to meet others who understood her experiences, from being stared at as she walked to class to being called the N-word on campus, she said.
The club became a support system, a safe space, a family. “It was so validating,” she said.
When the cultural centers shut down and the Black Student Union felt pressure to change, Werner said, her mental health started to decline.
“We, as the Black community on campus, could not speak about our opinions, our history,” Werner said. “It seemed like even the Civil Rights Act was off-limits. It feels dystopian. I can’t talk about it, but I know when you look at me you see a Black woman first.”
Black student unions specifically formed out of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 — including the one at the U. Werner had previously been the president of the club and stepped down in protest of the U.’s restrictions.
In their Instagram post, Werner and Parker, along with Sandrine Mimche, the vice president of BSU, wrote about the unions’ histories.
Former faculty member Ronald Coleman recalled in a 1989 article in The Daily Utah Chronicle, the student newspaper at the University of Utah, that he experienced racism and bigotry when he attended the school and played on the football team. The union at the time organized major protests — particularly against housing discrimination after he and other Black football players were denied off-campus apartments because of their race.
The union has fought hard over the years to improve the environment at the U. That was celebrated in 2020 when the BSU teamed up with student government on campus on a joint resolution to create the Black Advisory Council — focused on recruiting and retaining Black students, faculty and staff.
The U. also started a George Floyd Memorial Fund — named for the Black man killed by police in Minneapolis in 2020 that spurred nationwide protests — to help support Black students at the school in his honor.
But now, the Black Cultural Center that led both the fund and the council has moved to close under HB261. In their post, the BSU leaders called that “truly heartbreaking.”
“Our community has suffered under the weight of this bill and its destruction from the moment it passed,” they said.
Parker said she, Werner and Mimche felt they could no longer be silent. They had hoped the university would have spoken up against the bill, but when it didn’t, they decided to.
“To all students who have felt lost, frustrated, confused, disappointed and saddened by these changes — you are not alone,” they wrote. “We see you. We love you. We need you here on this campus. We have not forgotten about you and we will continue fighting for your place at the University of Utah and beyond. The Black Student Union exists to serve you.”
They’ve felt empowered by the response to their posts, with other students and community groups expressing solidarity. But there’s worry, too.
Parker doesn’t want the BSU to die out. She is scared she could be the union’s last president if they don’t find funding separate from the university and ways to continue engaging with students. There’s currently about 200 members.
The club’s leaders have set up an online fundraiser to collect money from donors interested in supporting them. And people can also reach out by email at BSUoftheUofU@gmail.com.
“I want to take our power back,” Parker said.
She envisions a community of U. students that meet regularly for poetry slams, guest speakers, rollerskating, studying or eating. She wants Black students on campus to be celebrated. “We have so many different ideas,” she added.
Most of all, she wants the club to remain a place where anyone — particularly those like Werner — can find support for who they are.
Pacific Islander Student Association worries about future members
Destinee Tui, the vice president of PISA, said being the first group to break away from the U.’s sponsorship was difficult, something she and Fihaki agonized over.
“I’d be lying if I told you it was an easy decision,” Tui said. “It wasn’t easy for us.”
Pacific Islander and Native Hawaiian students are the smallest minority on the U.’s campus, making up about 0.3% of the population. Being sponsored by the U. gave PISA a platform, and they largely used it to try to get more students from that background to attend the school.
PISA annually held a high school conference with about 500 students; its largest-ever event was hosted in spring. It introduced prospective students to campus life and explained how they could apply for scholarships.
Now, they’re looking at not being able to afford to have such students visit. It’s cost about $3,000 from their university bank account each year.
“It’s hard to do without funding,” Fihaki said.
But Fihaki and Tui said, like the BSU leaders, that they couldn’t stay tied to the U. when they felt like that meant they couldn’t be themselves.
Tui said their club was specifically advised not to talk about or hold any events that mentioned the colonialism that many Pacific Islander communities have faced — with administrators saying it violated HB261.
“They’re having us restrict ourselves from mentioning it,” she said. “At the same time, that’s an event that happened. And you can’t take that away.”
PISA leaders mentioned Utah’s anti-DEI bill in their Instagram post on Aug. 6 announcing the club would withdraw its sponsorship from the school.
“Our mission and values do not align with the guidelines,” they wrote. “We acknowledge that we will be forfeiting any funding from the university, but we as leadership would rather redirect our efforts in maintaining our safe space for our members, current and prospective.”
Tui and Fihaki said PISA has existed on campus at the U. since 1992 — before most students in the club today were born.
“We can be your home away from home,” Tui said. “We have a lot of members who are not from Utah. They’re from California or Hawaii and all around the world. And if they’re having trouble, we’ll always be there. If you need someone to drive you to the doctor, we will do that.”
Fihaki worries about how they’ll reach students now and, without resources, how they’ll support them.
“I think it’s worth the effort,” she said. “But it’s so stressful. We basically have to be our own advisers now.”
They held a small event this fall for club members — about 80 — to meet the leaders and grab a sticker.
They want to return to bigger events, like study halls, dances, cultural cooking events and basket-weaving demos. In place of the high school conference, they’d like to visit high schools around the state to talk to Pacific Islander students.
Like BSU, they’ve set up a fundraiser through GoFundMe, and they say anyone can reach out to their email at uofu.pisa1@gmail.com.
“We’re doing the best we can for PISA and also future members who are going to come to the university,” Tui said.
‘We will remain here’
The U. isn’t the only school where clubs are being roped in under the new law’s restrictions.
At Utah State University, student body President Matthew Richey said during a campus-wide forum last month that the new rules are “not conducive” to cultural clubs holding events any longer.
Previously, identity-based clubs that operated under USU’s Inclusion Center received $1,000 annually. That money could be supplemented by fundraising, and groups could hold large events like Fiestas Americas or a Native powwow.
Now — with the closure of the Inclusion Center — those clubs have been moved under the university’s student association. No clubs there, said USU spokesperson Amanda DeRito, receive ongoing funding through the school.
“They can apply for funding each year in a case-by-case process,” she said. “This funding is limited to $500 per club per academic year and USUSA club funding cannot be used for food, travel, prizes or contracted speakers.”
In place of the clubs, the school’s new Center for the Study of Community, once it opens, will hold general cultural events open to anyone. At other schools, the impact was greater still. Weber State University closed all eight of its cultural centers.
At the U., both students and faculty have sent petitions to the administration calling for the new anti-diversity rules and center closures to be reversed.
“These centers were open to all students, but underrepresented students deserve to have named, visible support on campus,” read the letter signed by more than 300 graduate students and undergraduates.
There has been no formal response from the university. Meanwhile, Werner said, a group she sees as antagonistic at the U. — the conservative club Young Americans for Freedom — continues to hold events, including ones that talk about race.
YAF, which is registered and not sponsored, hosted a speaker on campus last month who has called DEI efforts “modern day slavery of the mind.”
“It’s hurtful and degrading,” Werner said.
YAF drew attention last year after it held a showing of an anti-transgender film on campus. The student group Mecha, which is largely led by and for students of color at the U., stormed the room and shouted down the YAF speakers until the event had to be canceled.
Campus police broke up the confrontation, arresting members of Mecha for infringing on YAF students’ right to free speech. Several students in Mecha were later criminally charged. And the U. decided to pull the club’s sponsorship, making it now, too, a registered student group.
Parker said that was part of what prompted Black Student Union leaders to make their own choice about cutting ties with the school — rather than waiting for the university to do it or to add new rules or to force them to change their name.
Mecha also commented on BSU’s post about leaving the U., writing: “Solidarity! The university can try to shut down our spaces and resources but they can’t shut down what we represent!”
Parker agreed. “We are here. And we will remain here,” she said. “We are the Black Student Union.”