The Arrival and the “Culture Shock”
In the summer of 1996, a new cohort arrived at Notre Dame, met by a sensory experience that was as jarring as it was beautiful. For Quincy Starnes and Jeff Sandate, the transition involved nerve-wracking, small-propeller flights into South Bend and the immediate realization that Indiana’s humidity rivaled that of Houston. The campus felt “too quiet,” filled with the hum of insects and the inescapable scent of ethanol from the nearby plant. Joe Rolón, serving as a mentor, recalls the “white-wall” aesthetic of the campus being suddenly transformed by the arrival of a diverse group of peers. This initial “culture shock” was not just environmental but social. Ayana Fakhir navigated this transition through two lenses: the intimate bond with her Balfour summer roommate, Adriana Holguin, followed by the stark reality of the fall semester with a roommate from Minnesota who had never met a Black person in the flesh.
The Architecture of Community
The Balfour-Hesburgh Scholars Program served as a vital “shelter” before the storm of the fall semester. For four to six weeks, the scholars lived in the tight quarters of Zahm Hall and St. Edward’s Hall. Despite the cramped conditions and lack of air conditioning, this proximity built a “tribe.” For Quincy, who was the “Great Black Hope” of his family and had never found it necessary to study in high school, the program was a rigorous academic recalibration. Mentorship provided the necessary tools to navigate the transition from the Balfour “foothold” to the anonymity of massive lecture halls like Psych 101. This community was essential as they were eventually spread across campus—migrating from the initial intimacy of the summer to the geographical distance between the “Golf Quad” and the South Dining Hall, including Ayana’s transition from Knott Hall to McGlinn.
The Crucible of Resilience
The true strength of the Balfour-Hesburgh Scholars Program was tested in the “crucible of resilience” brought on by personal tragedy. Quincy shared the heartbreaking account of his father’s passing just hours before he landed for fall break; it was his Balfour friends who sent flowers and checked on him, providing the emotional scaffolding that kept him from leaving. The bond was so deep that it transcended campus borders; when Michael Gonzalez lost his sister, Joe Rolón took it upon himself to physically travel to New Mexico to be present for his friend. This “tribe” was cemented by tangible actions, such as when Guillermo Rodriguez stayed the night in Joe’s room to offer silent support after the death of Joe’s grandmother. Whether through a shared “Yellow Cab” ride or a midnight vigil, the Balfour network transformed from a social club into a lifeline.
Forty years later, the outcomes of the program speak for themselves. The participants have become theater department chairs, esteemed OBGYNs, attorneys, and the Assistant Dean for Student Life at Princeton. Their success is a “paying it forward” legacy, particularly for Quincy, who serves as a Black male educator in the South, providing the same representation he once sought. The Balfour-Hesburgh Scholars Program was not merely a “try”—it was a resounding success. It proved that when students are given the space to be authentically themselves without “masking,” they do not just survive; they lead.
