Whiteness As Fashion

Nike Techs vs Quarter-Zips

By Julian Rodriguez

Illustration by Justin Chen

Hanging in every Columbia student’s closet is their class sweatshirt, gifted to them by the Student Council. In recent memory, these have always been simple crew necks. However, in a March CCSC meeting, the Class of  ’29 representatives announced that they would wear a new garment: the quarter-zip. This decision was made because a survey of the then-freshmen class revealed that an overwhelming majority prefer quarter-zips. What appears to be a simple fashion choice instead demonstrates how whiteness dominates every aspect of American society, from fashion to language to self-image. 

The rise of quarter-zips did not begin at Columbia. Last November, a TikTok by @whois.jason announced that he was done with Nike Techs and was moving on to quarter-zips, spawning a new fashion debate on the app. Centered on how young people present themselves, the trend asked viewers to choose a side in the war of ‘Nike Techs vs Quarter-Zips.’ 

The Nike Tech Tracksuit is an iconic part of streetwear. Combining athletic comfort with stylish design allowed the set to move beyond the realm of sports to become a staple for casual outings or lounging. Most popular amongst young Black and Brown men in urban areas, the Nike Tech has also become a sort of symbol of this demographic, a representation of who these young people of color are. Quarter-zips, on the other hand, are a historical staple of white closets. Popular among tech and finance bros, country club members, Preppies, and Socs, the quarter-zip represents white affluence in a suburban setting. The quarter-zip has also persisted within Ivy League style, aligning students at top, predominantly white institutions like Columbia with the image. 

In TikToks with millions of views, content creators and commenters described the quarter-zip as ‘classy’ and ‘elegant.’ By celebrating this symbol of white affluence, the quarter-zip not only elevates style but also privilege. In her article in the Harvard Law Review, “Whiteness as Property,” Cheryl Harris explains how being white goes beyond skin color; it’s a state of being, and a list of privileges. Whiteness can be bought or sold and given or taken away. Historically, the definition of whiteness has changed in order to serve the ruling class, with Irish and Italians only gaining the title in the late 19th to early 20th century. 

Whiteness is also something that can be put on every morning. ‘Passing’ refers to individuals of nonwhite heritage who are perceived or present as white. Passing has a long history within minority groups, whether individuals do it intentionally or not. People of color have used an ability to pass as white to secure employment, housing, and social status ever since the color barrier existed. However, passing can extend beyond having a racially ambiguous complexion. To “own” whiteness, individuals code-switch, or shift their behaviors, dialect, or appearance, to assimilate to the white ideal. Donning a quarter-zip aligns the wearer with whiteness, regardless of the color of their skin. When there are privileges associated with being white, those who aren't born with those privileges will seek them out.

The quarter-zip trend continues the legacy of passing in a viral way. Content creators will compare “Nike Tech Dudes” with “Quarter-Zip Guys,” showing clear disdain for those who wear Nike Techs while praising the quarter-zip. In another popular TikTok, @siradiotv depicts men who wear Nike Techs as violent, engaging in drug dealing and gang activity. Nike Tech wearers are called “thugs” and “YNs” by the video’s creators and commenters. In the same TikTok, the attitude shifts completely once the quarter-zip is donned. In a quarter-zip, these same Black and Brown men are “respectable,” “handsome,” and “educated and well-spoken,” in the words of creators and commenters. A quarter-zip makes the wearer an upstanding, successful, and contributing member of the community, and those still in a Nike Tech are “not my type of crew no more, not my type of people.” In other words, Black and Brown people use the quarter-zip as a way to present themselves as something closer to white, a new form of passing in the dominant culture.

Commenters on the same video see the transition as “lowkey better for ur future” and “good for our community.” But these praises miss the impact that the trend has on people of color. These TikToks, typically created by Black and Brown men, sow seeds of internalized racism. Creators of color are explicitly telling their viewers that to be perceived as a valuable member of American society, you must adorn yourself in the symbol of the dominant culture, while rejecting and vilifying a symbol of minority communities.

Columbia students have continued the trend. While the quarter-zip was already a staple of Ivy League style, the Class of 2029 leaned into the movement when they ditched sweatshirts in favor of CC ’29 quarter-zips. With the historic whiteness of these institutions, and the overturning of affirmative action, this adoption of the quarter-zip is only one more example of the hold that whiteness has on higher education. Aligning Columbia with the quarter-zip reinforces the idea that success is a “white person thing”. And yet, success, much like Columbia students, has no defined look. Education and elegance can live in the stitching of the Nike Tech just as well as they can in the quarter-zip.