​Diversity is about inclusivity—creating a place for underrepresented voices and perspectives. In academic discourse and practice, however, diversity-as-inclusivity often amounts to a matter of volume. It celebrates self-assertion and rewards consensus; groups that speak with an unwavering or (supposedly) unified voice garner greater attention. But true diversity—and the potentially transformative forms of intellectual exchange that it fosters—is also, crucially, a matter of receptivity. Beyond creating a space for assertive and unified voices, diversity requires that we attend to other, relatively silent modes of expression, including contemplation and adaptation. These lower registers of human action are easily lost in the din of self-assertion, but they are nevertheless crucial for a humanistic culture that strives for true diversity.
 

Beyond inclusivity, then, diversity is predicated on humility, a keen ear, and a perceptive eye. It recognizes and amplifies silent and subjugated voices. This vision of diversity-as-receptivity encapsulates my contribution to social and intellectual life at ****** University. My research and teaching on the social and cultural history of modern Asia is precisely concerned with recognizing and recovering these silent forms of knowledge and action. As an educator, I am likewise committed to helping my students find a voice for articulating their own values and insights, and to cultivating a sincere appreciation for those of their peers.
 

As a region, Southeast Asia lacks both volume and harmony. The sheer linguistic and cultural diversity of the region means that it does not speak with a unified voice; it is more cacophony than chorus. Moreover, overshadowed by the rich political and cultural centers of South and East Asia—not to mention their contemporary economic and geopolitical import—Southeast Asia lacks the self-assertive volume that is rewarded by the diversity-as-inclusivity paradigm. By focusing on outside forces—whether Sinification, Indianization, imperialism, or development—to explain its history, scholars have marginalized local forms of agency. For these reasons, Southeast Asia is an object lesson in the needs for a receptivity-centered definition of diversity. It takes an open heart and an inquisitive mind to perceive and appreciate the lessons of adaptability and resilience that the region’s history has to offer, and these insights inform my approach to both teaching and researching the past in Southeast Asia.
 

My educational journey has provided a number of lessons about the merits of diversity in education. When I enrolled at Wake Forest University (NC) for my Masters, I encountered a relatively homogenous student body and saw its effects on social and intellectual life both inside and outside of the classroom. It was only then—in retrospect—that I truly came to appreciate the socioeconomic diversity that I had taken for granted during my undergraduate days at Mary Washington College (VA)—a state-supported liberal arts college. At Cornell, I learned a new sense of diversity, as I watched students from the STEM fields bring divergent interests and inclinations to my history classroom. My experiences as a professor at Wheaton College (MA)—where nearly half the students in my survey course on Modern China were international students who hail from China—have only strengthened my resolve with respect to diversity. Armed with these experiences, I am able to help my students trust in the value of their unique contributions to intellectual exchange and to appreciate those of their peers.
 

As a scholar-educator at ******* University, I will continue to seek out the silent and inarticulate registers of human life, and create an intentional sphere for their examination. I will weave the Thai language into the rich tapestry of sociolinguistic life on campus, and encourage a vision of diversity that surpasses volume and self-assertion in favor of receptivity and active engagement.