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Positive change is neither for the timid nor the closed-minded. What can Americans learn from applying an international perspective to the question of affirmative actions?

Many Americans may presume that affirmative action is an American idea. But no, it was first established in India in the 19th century under the colonial rule of the United Kingdom. As we know, the caste system in India restricted the "untouchable" castes from attending schools or working. In 1965, the untouchable caste held just 1.6% of senior positions; nowadays, that percentage has risen to 11%.

It's not just India. Many other post-apartheid countries, such as South Africa, Brazil, China and France, have instituted some form of affirmative action policy to redress historical grievances.

Of course, many Americans think that America is exceptional, therefore not comparable to India, especially its caste system. In "Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents," American journalist ‎Isabel Wilkerson analogized the racism in the United States ‎with its counterpart caste systems in India and Nazi ‎Germany — all systems that stratified society into racially defined ‎groups, used as the basis for either inclusion and ‎exclusion.

America's abiding sin is racism, which is akin to ‎‎(though not identical with) the caste system. According to ‎Wilkerson, race and caste "can and do coexist in the same culture and serve to reinforce each other. Race, in the United ‎States, is the visible agent of the unseen force of caste. Caste is ‎the bones, race the skin."‎

While some believe that affirmative action is an effective way to redress historical discrimination, I would argue that there is more to the story of admission, especially at the Ph.D. level, where students are normally fully funded by their departments. I will illustrate from my observations at three higher education institutions — ‎the University of Miami, the University of ‎Pennsylvania and the University of Minnesota.

When I first arrived in the United States as an ‎immigrant at age 19, I applied to the ‎University of Miami to pursue my ‎undergraduate education. Although I ‎submitted my application dossier after the ‎deadline, the university accepted ‎my candidacy, largely because I had a ‎generous donor behind me who agreed to fund my ‎education in its entirety.

From the perspective of the administration, we international students represent money. While at the University of Miami, I met many international students whose stories mirrored my own — rich and generous funders and therefore ‎administrations eager to accept us immediately. We ‎are good for business, for the money ‎we bring in and for our diversity. ‎

When I graduated from the University of Miami with my bachelor of arts, I applied for ‎many master of arts programs in top-notch ‎schools. My application was accepted in ‎virtually every program to which I ‎applied, again largely because of the money I brought and the diversity I represent. Although I was accepted by Columbia and many other prestigious ‎schools, I eventually chose the University of ‎Pennsylvania, home to the ‎best graduate school of education in the ‎country, if not the world. I spent over a year ‎at Penn, and I received a good education, met ‎interesting colleagues and earned an Ivy ‎League credential. ‎

When I graduated from Penn with a master of ‎science in education, I contemplated ‎Ph.D. programs. From my perspective, I had a ‎B.A. from Miami and M.S. from Penn, which I expected would make my application dossier ‎competitive. I chose the best Ph.D. education ‎schools in the country. I was an international ‎student, could pass as a student of color, had ‎two prestigious degrees under my belt, always ‎maintained excellent academic performance. I was optimistic about my prospects of securing a fully funded Ph.D. program.

Yet, in a twist, I was rejected ‎from virtually every Ph.D. program to which I ‎applied, except at the University of ‎Minnesota. I was surprised. Why was my ‎application readily accepted at the B.A. and ‎M.S. levels but not at the Ph.D. level?

Here is my international perspective on the question of admissions justice in higher education: At the Ph.D. ‎level, what matters most is a candidate's fit with potential advisers. Especially in the social science fields, many ‎American professors are looking for ‎candidates whose research interests mesh well ‎with their interests; this leads to their ‎discriminating against international students ‎whose interests are often perceived as ‎irrelevant to the local American context. ‎Conversely, this gives Americans an extreme ‎natural advantage, since they can naturally ‎mesh well with the faculty.

I have observed this trend over and over, and ‎at three higher education institutions. ‎At the bachelor and master levels, where ‎international students are expected to pay ‎enormous tuition, the admissions process is ‎very welcoming to international students. But at the Ph.D. level, where ‎international students (and all students for that matter) are often fully funded to pursue research, ‎we see low populations of international students — unless ‎they are paying, since some Ph.D. programs are ‎not fully funded. ‎

So at the Ph.D. level race is both irrelevant and relevant. It is irrelevant because what admission committees are looking for is goodness of fit. It is relevant because being from the same race as the faculty will increase the chances that there is an alignment between research interests. Where there are international faculty on an admission committee who share a candidate's national identity, I am sure that candidates' chances of being admitted will increase.

Abdulrahman Bindamnan is a University of Minnesota Ph.D. student.