Guilford College has many yearly traditions — Serendipity, Guilford Madness, and Lakefest, among other events. However, it’s necessary to add one more pressing annual recurrence to this list: the debate over the fate of our mascot, the “Fighting Quaker.”

For the past few years, the leader of the latest Guilford mascot rebrand campaign has been Presidential Fellow and local Quaker Joan Mitchell. Though she’s heading the movement now, Mitchell is hardly the first to call out “Nathan” — the cartoonish, aggressive Quakerman bearing the name of early Guilford founder Nathan Hunt — for his failure to embody the communities he is meant to represent.

“On one hand, [the Fighting Quaker] is offensive to Quakers, and I have spoken to many in the area who don’t like it, and on top of that, does it represent the students and alumni of Guilford?” Mitchell posed. “And that’s really what we should be asking ourselves: Is that who we are?”

Over the years, inevitably, demographics at the college, the global identity of Quakerism, and even the perception of mascots will evolve. With that in mind, Mitchell highlights that an aggressive Quaker misrepresents a faith known for pacifism, an irony that has sparked reactions ranging from amusement to embarrassment among students and alumni alike. Furthermore, Nathan’s physical depiction — a stern-faced white man — fails to reflect either Guilford’s diverse student body or the modern Quaker majority in 2025.

“If we really wanted to represent a Quaker person with our mascot, it would likely be a Black woman from Kenya,” Mitchell noted, emphasizing that while many students, alumni and stakeholders advocate for a mascot tied to the school’s Quaker history and faith, an accurate representation would look very different from the current design. 

However, there are many affiliated with Guilford who believe that the mascot has no responsibility to represent the current condition of the world, but rather to reflect where the school came from. It may be a surprise then to learn that the Fighting Quaker was never an official decision made by the school, nor was it always the mascot. 

For much of the 20th century, Guilford’s mascot wasn’t just a logo — it was a role played by students, often members of the cheerleading squad. Yearbook photos from the 1940s even show both a “Quaker Man” and a “Quaker Woman” taking part in sporting events, but the official logo of the school had always been the smiling, passive Quaker Oats Man that we are used to seeing in our pantries. 

According to Herb Appenzeller, Guilford College’s late Jefferson-Pilot professor of sport studies, emeritus, in his book “Pride in the Past”  the modern version of the Fighting Quaker emerged in 1968 when athletics department staffer John Lambeth sought a new logo to reflect a more aggressive athletic program. 

Duke Hilliard, then a high school student, designed several versions of a Quaker, including a smiling one, a bespectacled one, and a scowling, combative one. The coaching staff immediately chose the most aggressive-looking design, which quickly became popular among athletes and alumni. But even then, the decision sparked debate. Some campus publications criticized the choice, and internal disputes arose when certain sports, like volleyball and soccer, were left out of early logo revisions.

Mitchell noted how the current design was never the product of a broad campus consensus. 

“The football team made the decision unilaterally, and it was adopted through use,” she wrote in a 2023 email to the Guilford Student Body Association. “It was controversial at the time.” 

More than 50 years later, that controversy has only intensified — especially since, unlike adding a golf club to represent the 1968 men’s golf team, a male human mascot cannot be so easily altered to reflect women’s athletics. Mitchell believes Guilford should take inspiration from schools like Elon, which transitioned from the “Christians” to the “Phoenix,” and move away from human mascots, which not only constrict the population that can be represented but also caricature a “living breathing people group.”

“This is an opportunity to engage the entire Guilford community and create investment from all stakeholders, not just a few,” Mitchell said. “One thing these other organizations did was involve all of their stakeholders in the decision-making process.”

Included in the Guilford community that would be involved in decision-making are alumni who have been vocal on both sides of the debate. Some see the potential mascot change as concession to “wokeism,” comparing it to the Washington Redskins’ rebrand as the Commanders, while others view it as a necessary and overdue decision.

“I dislike the visual representation of our mascot, who is essentially just a frowning, old white man — it’s not a symbol I feel connected to or inspired by,” Kristie Wyatt, a 2003 Guilford alumna, said in a survey by The Guilfordian. “As an alum, I’m actually embarrassed to wear Nathan as a logo or display him on a flag or swag, unlike my other alma mater or even the colleges I’m affiliated with through friends and my spouse, whose mascots I proudly support.”

For Mitchell, making this process a collaboration between past, present, and future Guilfordians is vital, especially for alumni. However, she also acknowledges a larger issue overshadowing the mascot debate: Guilford’s financial struggles.

“I’d say to students, yes, the financial situation is something to be aware of, but it’s not something you need to carry the burden of,” she said, emphasizing that joining clubs and enjoying college should be students’ main concerns during their time on campus instead. “Once you’re an alum, you’ll realize that it’s not your responsibility to figure out where the money goes … The people in charge will handle that.”

Mitchell also believes that rather than being a financial drain, a mascot change could instead help raise funds. “We could set up fundraising options, where alumni could contribute to vote for different mascot options. It could become a fun, community-driven project with a celebration at the end.”

“There’s also the argument about cost, but I disagree,” she added. “I think people would actually buy more merchandise. You could have stuffed animals, soft items — things people would purchase. It could spark fun conversations too.”

While some worry about the financial implications of a mascot change, Mitchell sees it as an opportunity to generate excitement and even boost school spirit through new merchandise. But beyond the logistics, the real question remains: What could Guilford’s new mascot be?

Guilfordians want a non-human mascot — something that still represents the school but is also a symbol students and alumni would genuinely enjoy seeing on merchandise, sweatshirts, and plushies. To help visualize the possibilities, local artist Daniel Hresko created a few concept sketches to spark discussion.

One concept draws inspiration from George Fox, the founder of Quakerism, with a fox mascot incorporating the distinctive Quaker hat. Other suggestions have included a secondary logo to accompany Nathan; squirrels, a familiar sight on campus; and even a fat goose, which, as Mitchell pointed out, is “so much more intimidating than people think.”

“It’s limited only by people’s imaginations,” she added. “The idea is to get more publicity and raise awareness. The next step would be to set up interest meetings and form a committee to move this forward. If there’s enough student interest, it would be easy to convince the Board of Trustees to assign a committee to explore it.”

As the debate over Guilford’s mascot continues, Mitchell emphasizes that waiting for the “perfect” moment isn’t the answer.

“We can’t just wait for the right time,” she said. “I think it’s time to start.”

Mascot discussions may flare up annually, but real change requires action. With growing student and alumni interest, a potential rebrand isn’t just about replacing an outdated logo — it’s an opportunity to reshape school spirit, create a mascot the community can rally behind, and build a new tradition that future Guilfordians can embrace.