Will Colorado Universities Step Up for Faculty and Students of Color?

Racial tensions in the University of Colorado system are under public scrutiny once again, and this time with one of its own regents at the center. In March 2025, CU Regent Wanda James, the first Black woman elected to the board in over 44 years, called out a university-backed health campaign for utilizing racist tropes about the Black community. The campaign, titled “TEA on THC,” was produced by the Colorado School of Public Health and framed marijuana use in ways James said were offensive and unethical. Each image depicting the impact of THC on the brain used a Black character. James demanded that the images be removed and the funding for the campaign pulled.

The fallout was swift. 

James became the subject of a formal investigation by her own board, was targeted by a smear campaign website, and faced accusations of a conflict of interest due to her ownership of a cannabis dispensary. 

Following the aftermath, she framed the response as part of a broader national pattern: “We are watching book bans, attacks on reproductive rights, efforts to erase Black history, and the suppression of Black and women leaders, all fueled by a national Republican agenda. And now, in Colorado, Democrats on the Board of Regents are standing with them.”

James wasn’t the first to allege that CU had a racism problem. Just 2 years earlier, a 48-page “shadow report” was circulated alleging that four tenure-track women of color in the School of Education had been pushed out due to persistent bullying, surveillance, and institutional neglect. The report was signed by dozens of students and faculty who alleged that CU Boulder fosters a hostile work environment for faculty of color and described the treatment of Black women professors as “excessive, obvious, and undeniable.”

“The University of Colorado Boulder has a continual history of rampant and unbridled antiblackness,” the report claimed. “The systematic bullying, denigration, and surveillance of Women of Color faculty, and Black women faculty, in particular, was excessive, obvious, and undeniable. To obfuscate the reality that their treatment within this school has been anything other than horrific, unprofessional, and inhumane is both fatuous and fictitious. We bore witness and were made privy to countless examples of institutional disrespect and disregard against the Women of Color faculty in both formal and informal settings.”

Together, these incidents paint a picture of a long-standing pattern of racial tension and institutional failure across the CU system. To understand how CU got to this point, it’s worth tracing the roots of faculty discontent back over a decade.

Greg Cronin, a white former professor who spent over 20 years at CU Denver, now runs a blog where he documents what he calls a pattern of institutional racism within the university system. But his relationship with CU wasn’t always adversarial. His concerns began after a 2010 travel ban that the university issued in response to the devastating earthquake in Haiti.

“The University of Colorado Denver put out a public announcement on Facebook that forbid faculty, staff, and students from going to Haiti to help,” Cronin told Yellow Scene Magazine. “I think the excuse they used was that it was a dangerous situation.”

At the time, Cronin found the ban troubling but didn’t initially think of it as racially motivated.

“It didn’t even cross my mind that it was racist,” he said. “It crossed my mind that this is just wrong. Of course, when there’s a natural disaster, it’s dangerous. That’s what natural disasters do, they create a dangerous situation, but it’s wrong not to go there and want to help.”

According to Cronin, CU Denver had never issued a travel ban like this before and never has since. He spoke out publicly, and within a week, the university lifted the restriction. In 2018, CU praised a group of students for traveling to Nepal to aid earthquake recovery efforts there. The contrast raised difficult questions: Why were students encouraged to help in Nepal but outright banned from helping in Haiti? The implication, some argue, reflects broader systemic issues namely, that compassion and institutional support often follow racial lines. Scholars have long criticized the way institutions implicitly treat whiteness as the default, or even as more “worthy” of care. For instance, in 2022, Black refugees fleeing war in Ukraine were repeatedly turned away at borders while white refugees were welcomed. Likewise, CU seemingly treated Haiti, a predominantly Black country differently than other countries in crisis sending a subtle but damaging message about who deserves aid.

After the ban was lifted, Cronin and several colleagues traveled to Haiti. He speaks fondly of the experience, saying he learned more from Haitian students and faculty than he could have ever expected. But he also believes that his decision to speak out marked a turning point in how CU treated him.

“The first time in my entire career that I failed to meet teaching expectations was the year I taught in Haiti and advised the first Haitian to earn a master’s in Marine Conservation,” Cronin said.

Cronin says the Haiti ban was the first time he personally witnessed what he would later come to see as institutional racism at CU but it was far from the last. One of the most glaring patterns, he argues, is how CU evaluates faculty work: especially work that engages with communities of color. In academia, the distinction between “research” and “service” carries weight. Research advances a faculty member’s chances of earning tenure. Service work, while valuable, is not typically counted in the same way. Cronin alleges that CU often labels community-engaged scholarship with BIPOC communities as “service,” while similar work with white communities is classified as “research.”

This trend has been especially visible in cases like that of Dr. Lupita Montoya, a latina former assistant professor at CU Boulder who was denied tenure in 2016. Montoya had been recommended by both colleagues and experts in her field, but the university claimed her work did not meet the research requirements. Supporters say Montoya’s work was undervalued because it focused on issues affecting marginalized communities, such as air quality in Navajo Nation, labor conditions in Colorado nail salons, and educational access for first-generation BIPOC students. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Montoya worked with frontline workers and vulnerable communities to improve air safety, so for many, it was frustrating and disheartening to see her work dismissed as falling outside the bounds of “real” research or service.

A subsequent investigation recommended that her case be re-evaluated, but the university refused. 

In an interview with Diverse: Issues In Higher Education, Dr. Angela Bielefeldt, an engineering professor who served as one of Montoya’s primary tenure reviewers, said the dean’s handling of external letters was “non-standard” and called the decision to deny Montoya a second review, “baffling.” Montoya herself has publicly stated that she believes race and gender played a role in her denial. As reported by the Boulder Daily Camera, she filed a complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC), alleging that CU Boulder discriminated against her based on her race and sex.

In the end Montoya was denied and her concerns about discrimination were mostly dismissed. However, this was not the first time concerns about the treatment of POC staff was raised nor would it be the last. Just seven years later, the aforementioned shadow report signed by dozens of students and faculty would be released that documented the departures of four women of color from CU. The report paints a picture of vitriolic hostile culture that made remaining at the university untenable for the professors to remain. The authors wrote:

“We bore witness and were made privy to countless examples of institutional disrespect and disregard… which include but are not limited to public attacks on their personhood and their scholarship; installments of surveillance disguised as protection; harassment, bullying, and gossiping by students, faculty, and staff; downplaying of their achievements and their deep-set commitments to their students.”

It is easy to draw connections between Montoya’s fight for tenure and the alleged hardship faced by these professors. In each instance, women of color had their work devalued, their role undermined, and their departures quietly swept aside. However, some argue the shadow report highlights a more specific tendency of CU: antiblackness.

“CU has an antiblackness problem,” Regent Wanda James told Yellow Scene. While she acknowledged racism across the system, she was clear: when it comes to Black faculty, the hostility is more untrenched and unquestioned. Her concerns echo the shadow report, which decried CU Boulder’s “continual history of rampant and unbridled antiblackness.”

It may not be obvious why the distinction between racism and antiblackness matters, but Montoya’s story helps clarify it. Women of color who aren’t Black can absolutely face racialized barriers in academia. However, what many advocates say they are trying to name is how Black faculty in particular face a set of deeply ingrained patterns that often go undiscussed. In particular, many have flagged a lack of black leaders..

In her interview with YS, James was direct,  “CU has failed to hire Black leadership forever.”

She’s not alone in her concern. In March, former Denver mayor Wellington Webb called for an investigation into the university system’s hiring practices and its failure to elevate Black leaders.

“What leads to this is the fact that since 1876, only two Black chancellors have been appointed at CU, which is a disgrace of 149 years,” Webb wrote in an email to the Board of Regents.

The numbers tell a stark story. In 2023, CU Denver Anschutz had more than 110 white tenured faculty members for every one Black faculty member. Among professors working toward tenure, the gap was 43 to one. CU Boulder’s 2020 data revealed a similar imbalance: over 45 white faculty for every Black professor. 

Dr. Hillary Potter, a Black associate professor who’s spent over two decades at CU Boulder seems to believe that the numbers reflect the reality of the black experience.

“At least in my experience, for me, there has been this disregard of my voice,” she told 9News. “It just feels like we’re going backwards.”

Potter went on to say that she still hears painful stories from Black students, staff, and faculty, stories that, when brought to the administration, are routinely “ ignored.”

In response, to Webb’s email and the resulting discourse, the Board of Regents issued a formal reply emphasizing that all hiring policies undergo a comprehensive review and pointing to a recent vote affirming those procedures:

“All regent laws and policies are reviewed using a comprehensive and transparent process that includes input from regents, legal, the campus communities, and members of the public… Our laws and policies reflect adherence to state and federal laws. We appreciate your interest in this matter.”

But Webb said the response fell short.

“My disappointment in the chairwoman’s letter is she does not acknowledge that there’s a problem,” he told 9News. “You can’t fix a problem if you don’t acknowledge there’s a problem.”

CU’s response was not out of character for the university. Students and faculty have reported a perception that any criticism or conversation about race fall on deaf ears to administration

During Cronin’s era, he was asked to join the African Student Union because of his willingness to “go to bat” for his students. 

“Black students would often say that they felt unheard in the classroom when they worked up the courage to speak up,” he said. “I’ve heard Black students say that they felt uncomfortable or intimidated to raise their hand and speak up in class.”

Cronin formed the student group Wake Up, Speak Out with his students. The purpose of the group was to “speak out” about the challenges that students of color faced at CU. The leadership was composed of four white males who came together to create the group. Cronin shared that students of color were nervous to serve a leadership role in the group or raise complaints against the university due to the possibility of facing negative consequences. 

“Our black students feared retaliation if they spoke out about racism at CU Denver,” he said. 

According to Cronin, CU Denver is shaped by white leadership and those who do speak out about racist actions are punished. Students of color are intimidated into staying quiet, instructors who strive to be allies are pushed out, and leaders who expose harmful behavior are undermined. The impact of such a culture goes beyond just harm to mental health as universities where students of color experience frequent microaggressions and exclusion tend to see worse academic outcomes for those students.

It’s a pattern Cronin says he witnessed firsthand. He told Yellow Scene that during his time at CU Denver, Black students failed at far higher rates than their white peers.

“Our Black students get Ds, Fs, and Ws [withdrawals] at a rate 50% greater than our white students. A contributing factor to the failure of Black students is that they don’t have Black faculty role models to help them navigate the difficulties of getting an undergraduate degree.”

The greater context and culture surrounding are what push many to react so strongly to Wanda James’ ongoing dispute with the university. What began with a Black regent raising concerns about a racist graphic has now escalated into calls to censure her rather than a candid conversation about race. This conversation is also colored by tensions on the national stage as higher education responds to crackdowns on DEI. 

In January of this year, Colorado Public Radio reported that the CU system had removed its Diversity, Ethics, and Inclusion webpage following an executive order from the Trump administration. More than 50 universities, including CU Colorado Springs, are now under federal investigation, some for so-called “race exclusionary practices,” others for allegedly “failing to rein in antisemitism”, as part of a broader crackdown on DEI efforts.

As of writing this, CU’s DEI webpage remains down.

CU Boulder has quietly renamed its diversity page the “Office of Leadership Support and Programming.” CU Boulder and CU Denver did not respond to email requests for comment.

The removal and rebranding efforts come at a moment of contradiction. On one hand, DEI is being targeted nationally and painted as divisive or even illegal. On the other, faculty and students at CU say efforts to support and retain people of color have never been more urgent. The question, then, is not whether DEI is controversial. It’s whether CU will stand behind the people who say they are being harmed.

“We want to help,” said Regent James. “Black leaders want to engage. We want to bring different conversations and see CU do better. But too often, we’re put in the position of being the only Black person in the room, and when that happens, it’s only a matter of time before we’re blamed for the problems we came to fix.”

However, before CU can fix anything, it has to admit something’s broken.

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