At Arizona State University’s commencement a few weeks ago, Teach for America Founder Wendy Kopp advised the newly-minted graduates to remember the importance of inclusion and diversity and the need to break down barriers that keep “millions of children from exercising their talents and achieving the quality of life they deserved.” (Zócalo is affiliated with ASU.) She called this generation “smart, savvy, discerning, amazingly connected” and capable of making a profound difference by seeing each other as members of the same team.

Kopp’s vision of the world, and how young people should engage it, stands in stark contrast to the world described by many of the candidates out on the hustings this year. I don’t recognize that picture portrayed by politicians eager to divide us; Like Kopp, I have an abundance of confidence in the future, precisely because the young men and women in their caps and gowns are already fighting to build the kind of world we all want: Fair, just, and creative, with the capability to fix even the most complex problems.

Politics and political rhetoric don’t define the entirety of our civic engagement, and so these graduates are right to believe in both the future and their power to shape it, without being deterred by dire partisan machinations. And these graduates’ sense of empowerment to contribute to society doesn’t stem from naiveté, but from the foundation for lifelong learning and adaptation they’ve acquired with their college education.

But what will it take for these graduates to pursue their goals and succeed in this deeply-polarized America? The answer is a simple and powerful technology: Teamwork. And the good news is that the same hyper-connectivity that at times poisons our political discourse with its unfiltered, raw immediacy can also be leveraged for collaboration and constructive teamwork.

Indeed, Wendy Kopp’s concept for Teach for America is a model of how to leverage networks of well-intentioned and talented people wanting to make a positive difference in their communities. For more than 25 years, the organization has recruited recent graduates from top institutions to sign a two-year contract to teach in K-12 schools located in low-income areas throughout the country. Several studies have concluded that the program consistently provides effective, high-quality instruction to students who can benefit from it most. I am proud that 40 graduating Sun Devils have been selected to teach in TFA classrooms this coming fall.

In a similar spirit, at ASU we are committed to expanding the benefits of a college diploma to a larger swath of people. And we seek creative forms of teamwork that can further this mission. One of our responses is an unlikely partnership with Starbucks to create a path to educate more of our nation’s population, encourage upward mobility, and respond to the challenges of social and economic inequality.

Our resulting College Achievement Plan (CAP) provides a means for more people to complete their college education without being burdened by crushing student debt. A key aspect of this ongoing initiative is an evolving use of technology to enhance our digitally immersive course offerings. We are seeing the results with more than 5,200 Starbucks employees enrolled since 2014 and more than 100 graduates this spring.

The fruits of this effort can be seen in the achievements of people like store manager Michelle Brown, a Sacramento, California, mother of two who had struggled both financially and with demands on her time before dropping out after two years of college. Through the CAP program, she just completed her bachelor’s degree in organizational leadership at ASU, and she will see her own daughter head to college this fall.

Brown’s story is not unusual: There are thousands and thousands of smart, capable, and passionate people who for a variety of reasons had not completed their college degree on a traditional track. It is incumbent upon us as a society, and especially those of us privileged to work in higher education, to find innovative ways to connect with these people who have so much to contribute. The effort is not only about fulfilling their individual potential, but the nation’s as well.

If we leave it up to our politicians to define the narrative around America’s prospects, we may be convinced that failure is at hand—and that teamwork is not a key to success. But that is neither a winning proposition nor true.

Michelle Brown and her fellow graduates are wise to take their cues and inspiration from the Wendy Kopps among us, and to fight together for the future they want. That is the future we all need.

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You may have heard at the end of August about Starbucks’ pumpkin spice latte which contains, with every autumnal sip, Class IV Caramel Color and a tiny bit of 4-methylimidazole (4-MEI), a chemical produced when the coloring breaks down. Worries about caramel coloring and 4-MEI led the Food and Drug Administration to post a Q&A to reassure consumers that the agency has no reason to believe there is any danger from these chemicals in the amounts found in a pumpkin spice latte.

Around the same time, the Washington Post reported on the explosive growth of new food additives with little direct federal oversight and that the largest food industry trade group intends to create a database for the FDA of food additives with the scientific findings used by companies to determine that they are safe to use.

As a chemist, I can tell you that no chemical is perfectly, 100 percent safe all the time, under all conditions. Even I occasionally do a double take when I hear about the ingredients in some of our foods. But our fear of chemicals–what is often called chemophobia–needs to be tempered. The trend seems to be toward banning ingredients because they’re made in a lab rather than the result of a natural process. As a chemist, I’d caution all of us against assuming “natural” chemicals are safe. A chemical isn’t any better or worse depending on whether it was made in a lab or in nature. Chemicals are tools, and their effects can vary greatly by the we amount use and how we encounter them.

Let’s take the case of azodicarbonamide (ADA), the “yoga mat chemical” that came to public attention earlier this year when it became widely known that Subway used it in the manufacture of its bread. Giving chemicals like ADA monikers based on a single product in which they’re found or a single task they perform implies chemicals are–to borrow a phrase from Alton Brown–“unitaskers.” Chemicals aren’t single-use tools, like a trendy margarita machine. Chemicals are multi-use tools, like a conventional, top quality blender that can make smoothies, shakes, soups, sauces, and cocktails.

In addition to appearing in yoga mats, ADA is also a dough conditioner, helping gluten “give dough and the bread its body,” Penn State food scientist John Coupland explained in a blog post called “So what is azodicarbonamide actually doing in bread?” How does ADA do this and also aid in the production of foam plastics? As Derek Lowe explains in his post “Eight Toxic Foods: A Little Chemical Education,” ADA helps to puff up plastics by breaking down into lots of gases, which help make the foam bubbles. “But the conditions inside hot plastic, you will be glad to hear, are quite different from those inside warm bread dough,” he notes. In bread-baking conditions, ADA reacts with the flour proteins to link these proteins together into a sticky, elastic gluten network. As a result of this reaction, ADA breaks down to biurea, a chemical that is easily flushed out by the body and poses no health risk. In baking, ADA can also break down to semicarbazide and urethane—two chemicals that may pose a health risk. This sounds scary, but we must remember that amounts matter. The FDA caps the safe amount of ADA in foods at 45 parts per million, which is likely far more than was in a Subway sandwich. Subway pointed out that ADA “is used in most bread and by most brands”—but they still removed it from their bread. What will Subway do with its bread instead? Likely use another chemical that does the same job—a chemical that is also considered safe to use at levels set by the FDA.

Caramel coloring, 4-MEI, and ADA aren’t the only ingredients that have us looking closely at our foods. In March, the chemical trisodium phosphate (TSP) stoked concerns because of a video dubbing TSP the “paint thinner chemical” and questioning its presence in the children’s breakfast cereal Trix. TSP is used by painters; Savogran, a manufacturer of “removers and cleaners, solvents and repair products,” describes one of their TSP products as a heavy-duty cleaner ideal “for removing heavy deposits of greasy grime, smoke, soot stains and chalked paint from walls, woodwork and floors.”

But that is bulk TSP. It appears in much smaller amounts in food. As Dictionary of Food Ingredients authors Robert S. Igoe and Yiu H. Hui explain, TSP functions in food as “an emulsifier in processed cheese to improve texture [and] maintains viscosity and prevents phase separation in evaporated milk and is also found in cereals.” TSP helps with the texture and appearance of foodstuffs–and this isn’t its only function in food.

TSP also helps keep the meats we eat safe. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), the chemical is among several antimicrobial agents that have been approved by the FDA that are “generally recognized as safe.” “When immersed in and/or sprayed in a dilute solution on chickens, it can significantly reduce bacteria levels,” the USDA says. One of the bacteria TSP is effective at knocking out is salmonella, which causes about 1.2 million illnesses, 23,000 hospitalizations, and 450 deaths in the U.S. every year, according to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates. A small amount of TSP to help ensure food safety? To me, this is a good use of a “paint thinner” chemical.

On the flip side, even “natural” compounds can become harmful. Endurance athletes who drink plenty of water, but no additional sodium, could lower their blood’s concentration of sodium to a dangerous level (hyponatremia). This condition can cause nausea, muscle cramps, confusion, and slurred speech and, in extreme cases, lead to seizures, coma, and death. We may take herbal remedies assuming they’re somehow safer than drugs, but if a chemical affects us, it’s a drug–whether it’s a “natural” tea or an over-the-counter cold tablet. No chemical gets a free pass. This includes the chemicals we use in food.

It may seem scary at first when we hear an unfamiliar chemical name in a food item, but we need to dig deeper. The amount we’re exposed to matters. We have to consider whether we swallowed chemicals, injected them, spilled them on our skin, or inhaled them. We have to consider whether we were exposed to a little bit of the chemical every day for weeks or a big amount all at once. It can seem daunting to dig deeper, but there is a lot of good information out there from the FDA, Department of Agriculture, food scientists at universities, and reputable science writers.

The harm of chemophobia is that, as chemist and science writer Chad Jones wrote: “Irrational fear leads to irrational decisions.” Instead of immediately signing a petition to ban a food additive, let’s look for existing information and carefully consider benefits and risks before making a decision. Perhaps that decision will be to seek a ban or a voluntary stoppage (in the vein of Subway). But perhaps our decision will be that the benefits outweigh the risks or that, in a particular case, there isn’t a reasonable risk.

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How author likes her cup:

How author does not like her cup:

But as much I enjoy the baristas inside my SBUX, I’ve grown to appreciate my porristas (“cheerleaders”) outside even more. They are the several dozen day laborers who take over the parking lot outside The Home Depot every day.

I used to dread them. They would stare at me. They would whistle. They would call out for me. I’d think of comebacks–“En tus sueños!” (In your dreams!), “Ya quisieras!” (You wish!) and my favorite, “No seas naco!” (Don’t be so low-class!)–but none actually made it out of my mouth. One day, I did flick one of the guys off, which only made me feel naca.

I couldn’t understand why the whistling and catcalling got to me so much. A part of me felt small and helpless, and another part would think, “How dare they think they could ever have a girl like me?”

Then, when I was on the verge of finding a new morning coffee spot, something in me clicked. I realized how much I am actually like those men: born in Mexico (check! ), dark skin (check!), dark brown eyes (check! ), pin-straight, thick, dark hair (check, check, check!). I’m fighting to make a living, trying to be successful, trying to make my family, which is thousands of miles away, proud. Take away the Ann Taylor suit and I have more in common with them than with most of my friends or colleagues.

After that, my attitude changed. The next morning, I pulled into the parking lot, got out of my car, and cheerfully greeted two of the workers: “Buenos días! ”

Friends and porristas now.

Since that day, the catcalls have subsided and the leering has become almost familial. Now, whenever I see my porristas, they cheer me up. Just like the hearts on my cup.

Dulce Vasquez, managing director of Zócalo Public Square, was born in Tampico, Tamaulipas, and moved to South Florida at age seven.

*Photos by Dulce Vasquez.

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In Los Angeles, at least at 9 o’clock on weekend mornings, it’s the Starbucks at Santa Monica and Westmount Drive. I’ve been going here at least two days a week since around 1998. The baristas know me by my order. “Short drip?” they chirp before I approach the counter. Short coffee, I want to correct them.

You could say all Starbucks are the same: the same smell of burnt beans, ostentatious drinks whose names require practicing, racks of mugs nobody buys, Norah Jones. But more than 90 percent of the customers at my Starbucks are gay – more regular-guy-and-his-dog gay than six-pack abs gay – and they’ve made it into a genuine social center, even more so than a bar. I’m among that 90 percent, but I don’t socialize there. For me, it’s a place for cheap(ish) adequate coffee and bland music that won’t distract me from The New York Times, inviting but not comfortable enough to stay longer than it takes to read the Arts section and the editorials. If I time it right, I can score an already-read Times from the discard bin at the front door.

I could brew my own coffee, but making a whole pot is wasteful. I prefer to get out of the house first thing, and Starbucks is the perfect distance for a morning walk. The Coffee Bean is several more blocks away, with only five tables, louder music, and no Times. The smaller Starbucks next to the Coffee Bean has even less seating, so there’s no point. I could drive to an independent coffeehouse, but I hate driving, and indies are too homey. They almost shout, “What’s your rush? Play Scrabble.” And call me crazy, but I like being known by my drink order rather than “Larry.” Maybe I’ve lived in a big city too long.

They remodeled the gay Starbucks last year and they doubled the seating area. But as with freeways that become clogged a week after they’re widened, almost every seat is usually occupied. There’s a communal bench where you’re almost forced to chat up whoever is across from you. I don’t have the time to do that. Like I said, I’m there for coffee and the Times.

The place has shifting moods. Afternoons mean writing partners enthusiastically hammering out story lines (“The hooker is also a hedge fund manager!”). Evenings bring awkward first dates with guys who met online with high hopes. Late evenings are filled with the more somber whisper clicking of scripts being created on laptops (FADE IN: A stiletto-heeled hooker, with the steely resolve of a hedge fund manager). I rarely visit during those times.

On weekend mornings, though, everyone seems to know each other and is interested in getting to know everyone else. Even the occasional family who’s just checked out of the pink Ramada next door, carrying suitcases and scolding their children in German accents, will chat up a group of guys.

The place has been, for me, the perfect place to be among people, yet anonymous. But lately I’ve begun feeling like a short drip hermit.

I blame my mother. Twice in the last month she has told me how she can’t wait to come back to visit Los Angeles so she can go to “that nice Starbucks” and meet some more of those “nice gay men.” I assume she is willing to spend upwards of $450 on a plane ticket to see me as well, but she hasn’t said that in so many words. With every visit she eschews the usual tourist attractions. For her, the gay Starbucks is Los Angeles, and she acts like it’s her own AARP cotillion. In 20 minutes she will talk to more people there than I have since the Clinton presidency–this from a woman who usually views strangers with fear and a little loathing and carries her purse in a plastic CVS bag to deter muggers.

“You could be friendlier,” she said after the last time I took her there. I was indoors reading the Times Book Review while she was on the patio discussing dog training with a guy who had two Chihuahuas. It’s not a matter of being friendly, I try to tell her. I socialize, just not there. It’s hard to explain that I actually go to a Starbucks for the coffee.

She has no interest in going to a Starbucks in Akron. The weather is lousy, so no patios. Presumably gay men there brew their own. If she doesn’t make it out here this year, I might just send her a few Norah Jones CDs.

Larry Buhl is a Los Angeles-based freelance reporter and writer who covers medicine, technology, entertainment and politics.

*Photo by Larry Buhl.

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