In a sense, Galvan — part Tewa Native, part Scottish, part Mexican — feels as if he himself has been buffeted by a different sort of gale, this one professional, set in motion in the fall of 2001. Back then, he was working for the University of Washington as a continuing education coordinator/tribal liaison for the university’s Center for Health Education and Research (CHER). His job, he says, was to help bring HIV/AIDS awareness to Native peoples. A year later, he was fired.

In its termination letter, the university said he was being released for “several incidents” pertaining to “lack of professional behavior with one of our subcontractors,” difficulty with an office mate who subsequently “requested an office change,” and an interaction where a potential consultant had concerns about Galvan’s behaviors toward “his co-worker and toward women.” (The university listed his position’s job duties as “providing consultation, training, and technical assistance to tribal subcontractors.”)

Galvan says while there was a discussion over “cultural differences over the way the university wanted the Native Americans” to structure presentations, a discussion over unprofessional behavior never occurred. He adds that in an academic office that had approximately 95 percent women and 90 of them were white, he claims he experienced discrimination, based upon his race and his gender. “There’s a mind set there that’s hard to change in academia,” says Galvan. “It’s a mind set and privilege they can’t see.”

He took the university to court in 2005, claiming discrimination on basis of race and gender, and wrongful termination. The case, in two rulings handed down last month in King County Superior Court, was dismissed.

What would have helped him to prove his case, Galvan says, is information on the resolution of racism and sexism complaints filed by people of color against the university from 1992-2002. He also believes documentation on identifying the complainants in regards to race and gender would benefit as well.

But the University Complaint Investigation & Resolution Office (UCIRO) has said that it does not track or identify complainants according to race or ethnicity.

“I would think that UCIRO would have a database and would have in that database figures under who’s filing,” says Marc Brenman, executive director of the state’s Human Rights Commission. Such data, says Brenman, would make it easier if, perhaps, UCIRO wanted to show trends in regards to complaints filed.

UCIRO did, however, provide statistics on the number of racism and sexism complaints filed during the university during the decade from 1992 - 2002. In that time, 279 complaints were filed. Three of those were deemed to be fully supported; seven were partially supported. The rest were ruled to have “no determination or finding” or “no cause,” or found to be “unable to conclude” or “not supported.” One of the not supported complaints pertained to Galvan’s allegation.

In the courtroom, Galvan’s legal counsel, John Scannell, tried to argue that the type of discrimination his client experienced at the university amounted to adverse impact, referring to employment policies that, while appearing reasonable on their face, are biased against protected groups. Scannell says that when he requested statistics to prove this, the university replied they didn’t have them. “That should have been held against them,” says Scannell.

Jill Lee, assistant director of UCIRO, concedes that her office does not collect data on individual complainants if it doesn’t pertain to the complaint being made. She says UCIRO wouldn’t ask complainants to classify themselves as anything — for example, being over 40, which is a protected class — “that isn’t in relation to their complaint.”

She offers that she doesn’t know if any place at the university has such information. To her memory, she says no one else has asked for what Galvan has. “Given that it’s the only time that I know of,” says Lee, “I would say that it’s not a widespread concern.”

Barry Knake, who helped craft federal employment guidelines during the Carter administration and was to be called as an expert witness for Galvan, says the university is required to collect information relating to adverse impact. “They’re absolutely abridging Mr. Galvan’s rights here,” says Knake. “But what’s one person’s red tape is another person’s due process.”

Since his dismissal, Galvan says hasn’t been able to secure steady employment, facing the possibility that, unable to pay his home equity loan, he may lose his house by summer’s end. If that happens, he says he won’t be able to live in Seattle any longer.

As for his appeal, he says he will keep trying to prove that what happened to him was discrimination. “It’s a reflection of academia nationwide,” says Galvan, “and of institutions in America.”