Mr. Wolfe said he took responsibility for the anger and frustration on campus, asserting that conversations with community leaders, students, faculty, donors and others led him to his decision, more than just the football players’ threatened boycott. 
 
 “What was starting to become clear was the frustration and anger was evident, and it was something that needed to be done that was immediate and substantial for us to heal,” Mr. Wolfe said at a news conference. 
 
 As the two resignations were announced, the Board of Curators unveiled a slate of new initiatives to address racial tensions on campus, including hiring a diversity, inclusion and equity officer for the entire University of Missouri system. The university will also provide additional support to students, faculty and staff members who experience discrimination; create a task force to create plans for improving diversity and inclusion; and require diversity and inclusion training for all faculty, staff members and incoming students. 
 
 Josh Earnest, the White House press secretary, praised the protests as showing “that a few people speaking up and speaking out can have a profound impact.” 
 
 Officials said Mr. Loftin would remain at the university in a research role. 
 
 Opposition to the administration reached a peak in the last week. A graduate student, Jonathan Butler, who was a veteran of the Ferguson protests, held a highly publicized hunger strike, saying he would not eat again until Mr. Wolfe was gone. Protesters formed an encampment on campus. A coalition of Jewish groups told Mr. Loftin that they were “dismayed” by his lack of action after a swastika was drawn on a dormitory wall. Deans of nine of its schools called for Mr. Loftin’s removal. 
 
 On Monday morning, the student government demanded Mr. Wolfe’s ouster, and much of the faculty sent word to students that classes were canceled for two days, in favor of a teach-in focused on race relations. ||||| On the campus of the University of Missouri, graduate student Jonathan Butler has been starving himself in an effort to remove the school’s president Tim Wolfe from his position. Today, on the seventh day of his protest, Butler won. 
 
 Butler’s protest was never a solitary one—he is the face of a student group calling itself Concerned Student 1950—but the speed with which it metastasized and engulfed the university had to have surprised Wolfe. 
 
 Butler and his allies were, broadly speaking, protesting the treatment of minority (primarily black) students on Missouri’s campus. Butler said that he would not eat until Wolfe—the president of the University of Missouri System, which encompasses both the flagship campus in Columbia as well as smaller colleges across the state—resigned his position. Wolfe, even in the face of growing attention and pressure, as the story became a national one, had refused to do so. On Sunday he stood his ground in a statement, but by then, his position had clearly become untenable. 
 
 
 
 On Saturday night, the black members of the school’s football team announced that they would not practice nor play until Wolfe was no longer the school’s president, and Butler had resumed eating. On Sunday, the team’s coach, Gary Pinkel, released a statement saying that his coaching staff and team were united, and would not participate in any football activities until Wolfe resigned or was removed. That was going to include the team’s next game, on Saturday, against Brigham Young University, which is scheduled to air on an ESPN network. 
 
 At Missouri, an SEC school, football is big business. Pinkel, the coach, makes $4 million per year; Wolfe, the president, made less than $500,000. The football program institutionally supporting its black players protesting along with Butler was probably this situation’s greatest possible escalator—it’s what made Butler’s protest into a topic of coverage for ESPN—but the players, too, weren’t acting alone. A group of teachers called the Concerned Faculty Group announced this morning that they would be conducting a two-day walkout in support of Butler and Concerned Student 1950. The school’s student government also released a statement this morning demanding Wolfe’s resignation. State legislators, including Columbia’s representative and the chairman of the state House’s Committee on Higher Education, both of whom are Republicans, also called on Wolfe to resign. Wolfe was under attack from just about every conceivable side, and despite his obstinacy, his resignation was not a question of “if,” but “when.” 
 
 So, what brought us here? It’s perhaps easiest to work backwards. On October 10, during the school’s annual homecoming parade, Butler and other members of Concerned Student 1950 blockaded the vintage convertible that was carrying Wolfe. According to witnesses, the driver of the convertible revved the car’s engine while it was stopped before eventually bumping into Butler. The group was also heckled by parade attendees. Wolfe was reportedly silent during the protest. 
 
 Butler began his hunger strike in response to Wolfe, over the subsequent month, refusing to acknowledge that demonstration or the reasons for which it was carried out. The aim of the homecoming parade protest was to draw attention to what Butler and Concerned Student 1950 say is an inhospitable campus climate for minorities. In a letter announcing his hunger strike, Butler referenced several incidents: 
 
 On September 12, student body president Payton Head wrote on Facebook that he had been called a “nigger” while walking through campus. It was not the first instance, and the school’s Legion of Black Collegians say the slur was also used against them while they were rehearsing a play outdoors on October 5. In his Facebook post, Head also wrote about the on-campus oppression faced by LGBT, disabled, Muslim and female students. 
 
 On October 24, a swastika was drawn in feces on the bathroom wall of a residence hall. 
 
 In September, the university announced it was removing the hospital privileges of Colleen McNicholas, a doctor who performed abortions at a Planned Parenthood clinic in Columbia. Per the Kansas City Star, state law dictates that “a doctor can only perform abortions if he or she has clinical privileges at a hospital within 30 miles of where the abortions are taking place.” The school’s decision effectively ended abortion in Columbia. 
 
 Earlier in the fall semester, the school announced that it was revoking health insurance subsidies for graduate students. After an immediate backlash, the policy was reversed. 
 
 Though these were the recent incidents that sparked the protest that led to Wolfe’s resignation, the oppression felt, and indignities suffered, by minority students and faculty did not, of course, begin just this semester. Cynthia Frisby, a professor at the school’s historic and loudly trumpeted journalism school, has lived in Columbia for 18 years. She wrote in a Facebook post that she had “been called the n word too many times to count.” She also wrote specifically of several disturbing incidents of racism: 
 
 Some of you may recall my most recent experience while jogging on Route K in May of 2015 when I was approached by a white man in a white truck with a confederate flag very visible and proudly displayed. He leaned out his window (now keep in mind I run against traffic so his behavior was a blatant sign that something was about to happen). Not only did he spit at me, he called me the n-word and gave me the finger. Of course, I responded with “Oh yea, get out of your car you coward and say that to my face.” He then raced off. Typical. Others of you may recall that after the Zimmerman trial, I wrote about my experiences being called the n word twice while I was on my jog. And yes, I have had a few faculty call me the n word and treat me with incredible disrespect. Yes, faculty. I have had a student who said he couldn’t call me Dr. Frisby because that would mean that he thinks I am smart and he was told that blacks are not smart and do not earn degrees without affirmative action. Yes, true story. I have so many stories to share that it just doesn’t make sense to put them all here. 
 
 In my final year as a student at Mizzou, cotton balls were thrown onto the lawn of the Black Culture Center, which is centrally located on campus, during Black History Month. In 2011, a racial slur was spray painted onto a statue outside a residence hall. In 2012, racist flyers were posted in another dorm. 
 
 In the wake of the graffiti incident, the school launched a “diversity initiative” called One Mizzou, which then-chancellor Brady Deaton called his “proudest moment.” But One Mizzou, as a concept and a name, was discontinued this summer at the behest of the students who it was supposed to benefit. A campaign that was initially supposed to promote tolerance and inclusion on campus had morphed into a generic marketing slogan for the school itself. The baby steps had led nowhere. 
 
 The co-opting and eventual euthanizing of One Mizzou were emblematic of a simple fact that is as true in Columbia as it is in America: The University of Missouri, and the community in and around it, were aware of, and attentive to, the experiences of its minority students only in the worst of moments. When asked to confront and address the commonplace indignities minority students experience at his university during the homecoming parade—a celebration, not a crisis—Wolfe, the ostensible leader of that community, had no response. He will be gone, though not forgotten—certainly not by his peers, who may now find themselves asked to acknowledge, and fix, problems they didn’t know existed. 
 
 [image via AP] ||||| (Via Jonathan Butler, on Facebook) 
 
 UPDATE: The president of the University of Missouri said Monday morning that he would resign amid escalating protests. In response, Jonathan Butler announced that his hunger strike was officially over. 
 
 This is only the first step! More change is to come!! #TheStruggleContinues #ConcernedStudent1950 — JB. (@_JonathanButler) November 9, 2015 
 
 Earlier: 
 
 Jonathan Butler is in pain, but he has no intention of giving up. 
 
 As of 9 a.m. Monday, it has been a week since the 25-year-old University of Missouri graduate student has eaten, a hunger strike he began in an effort to oust university president Tim Wolfe and bring about change to what he and other campus activists see as a school administration that has been unacceptably unresponsive to a series of racist incidents on campus. (Here’s an interactive timeline of incidents on campus prepared by the MU student newspaper, the Maneater.) 
 
 In a letter to the Board of Curators, the governing body to which the university president reports, Butler vowed that he would not eat until Wolfe was removed from office. 
 
 “I will not consume any food or nutritional sustenance at the expense of my health until either Tim Wolfe is removed from office or my internal organs fail and my life is lost,” Butler wrote in a letter announcing his protest. 
 
 Butler’s act of protest, in concert with other activism coordinated by a group of students who called themselves Concerned Student 1950 — a nod to the year that black students were first admitted to the university — has seized the nation’s attention. And, on Saturday night, members of Missouri’s football team announced that they would join the protest, and would not practice or play until Butler’s demands were met. 
 
 [Missouri football players threaten to boycott season amid racial tension] 
 
 The Board of Curators has called an emergency meeting for Monday morning to discuss the unrest. Meanwhile, the news media has flocked to the Columbia, Mo., campus, where more acts of protest and civil disobedience, including walkouts by graduate students and black faculty members, are planned. 
 
 We spoke with Butler on Sunday night about his protest, his motivations, and the larger Black Lives Matter protest movement. Here is a Q&A edited for length and clarity. 
 
 Tell me more about you personally. Where are you from, and what are you studying? 
 
 Butler: I’m 25 years old. I hail from Omaha, Nebraska, and I did my undergraduate studies at the University of Missouri, I got my bachelor’s in business administration with an emphasis in marketing, and now I’m pursuing my master’s degree in educational leadership and policy. I enjoy school, skateboarding. You know, I enjoy life. 
 
 And how did you end up in activism? What happened that leads you to find yourself one week into a hunger strike? 
 
 Butler: I really look to the example of my grandfather and my mother, who were both raised in the church. And they did a lot of community engagement. And they used their talents, my mother both in education and my father having a law background, really to do advocacy for the community, and I think as a young child that’s where it started. 
 
 But when you talk about most recently on campus, in terms of protesting and mobilizing communities, that really came from my experience organizing during Ferguson, after the murder of Mike Brown. Because the University of Missouri is only two hours away from Ferguson, and being able to have that experience, I had never seen that many black people and I had never seen that many black people mobilized in that way. So, it really struck a chord with me, to really have a passion for inspiring and building up my black community. 
 
 So what are you fighting for through this hunger strike? 
 
 Butler: For me, I’m fighting for justice. It’s really plain and simple. 
 
 When you localize it to the hunger strike it really is about the environment that is on campus. We have reactionary, negligent individuals on all levels at the university level on our campus and at the university system level, and so their job descriptions explicitly say that they’re supposed to provide a safe and inclusive environment for all students … but when we have issues of sexual assault, when we have issues of racism, when we have issues of homophobia, the campus climate continues to deteriorate because we don’t have strong leadership, willing to actually make change. So, for me, I’m fighting for a better tomorrow. As much as the experiences on campus have not been that great for me — I had people call me the n-word, I had someone write the n-word on the a door in my residence hall — for me it really is about a call for justice. I’m fighting for the black community on campus, because justice is worth fighting for. And justice is worth starving for. 
 
 It’s been a week since you ate. How are you feeling? Are you planning on stopping? 
 
 Butler: No one really understands what my body is going through. My body is literally shutting down. I definitely have pain all over, shortness of breath. I’m overheated one minute and then I’m shivering the next, so there is just a lot that my body is going through right now. But I don’t really try to focus on that, I’m trying to focus on the fact that I really am encouraged by the activism that’s going on. There are a lot of white allies that are coming on board, there is a lot of education, people are talking about this in classrooms. 
 
 In a statement he issued on Sunday, President Wolfe made it clear that he doesn’t intended to resign. What is your response to that? 
 
 Butler: I’m completely fine with that because my request last Monday was for the curators to step in. We’ve gotten to the point where we’ve addressed Tim Wolfe, and he’s shown time and time again that he’s not sincere about helping students. So, to me, that means it’s time for new leadership, it’s time for someone who can help the university be financially stable but also make sure that we are an amazing experience for students of all identities. 
 
 This protest gained an increased level of attention over the weekend when members of the football team said they would boycott their games and practices until your hunger strike was over. Did you know they were going to join you in protest? 
 
 Butler: I had no clue this was going to happen. One hundred percent of the support I’ve received has been unexpected, but it has been a 1,000 percent appreciated. I just received a call over the weekend that some of the football players had heard about what was going on and they really felt passionate about it because they felt that they are all too often separated and put into this athletic bubble away from the rest of our community, and they really wanted to reach out and bridge that gap. And so for me it was a blessing. It was really heartwarming and encouraging really because I didn’t think that I had people in my corner in the beginning. 
 
 Do you see your activism as part of the Black Lives Matter movement? 
 
 Butler: It is, but it’s not. The Black Lives Matter movement, in terms of what that means and the symbolism of reaffirming black existence, black humanity, and so in that realm with what we’re doing with our education sessions, what we’re doing with our rallies, what we’re doing on campus is definitely bringing about this awareness that we deserve to exist in these spaces on campus and we deserve to have our lives valued. And so in that sense, it’s a part of the Black Lives Matter movement. But in another sense, this is really unique to campus just because of the example that we got from some of those who were organizing in Ferguson. There are three queer black women, who used their knowledge from Ferguson organizing in creating an organization called MU for Mike Brown. And from that, that’s really where a lot of what has been going on on campus has been morphed from. So, it is part of the Black Lives Matter movement, but not necessarily in the cookie cutter way. 
 
 A lot of people who otherwise wouldn’t pay attention to this type of protest now are because of the solidarity you received from the football team. For those who are just tuning into this story, what do you want them to know? 
 
 Butler: The campus climate here at the University of Missouri is an ugly one, it’s one that often we don’t talk about and it’s one that, when issues come up, whether it’s sexual assault, whether it’s Planned Parenthood, whether it’s racism, it gets swept under the rug because we want to rest on our traditions and rest on all these values that we hold in high esteem. And I think the message is that underneath all of that there is a lot of dirt and there’s a lot of pain and there’s a lot of hurt. There’s things that need to be changed. And at the end of it all, even if you don’t really understand what I’m saying, even if you can’t really understand systemic oppression and systemic racism, is the fact we can’t be at a university where we have values like “Respect, Responsibility, Discovery and Excellence” and we don’t have any of those things being enacted on campus, especially in terms of respect. I’m on a campus where people feel free to call people the n-word, where people feel free as recently as last week, to used [their] own feces to smear a swastika in a residential hall. Everything that glitters is not gold. We really need to dig deep and be real with ourselves about the world we live in and understand that we’re not perfect but understand that just because we’re not perfect doesn’t mean we don’t start to understand and address the issues around us. 
 
 Related: 
 
 Black grad student on hunger strike in Mo. after swastika drawn with human feces 
 
 Missouri football players threaten to boycott season amid racial tension 
 
 With $1 million at stake, U. of Missouri’s president now taking protests seriously 
 
 This post has been updated.
– Jonathan Butler can finally savor a good meal—and the taste of victory. The 25-year-old University of Missouri graduate student, who began a hunger strike on Nov. 2, posted a tweet Monday in the wake of school President Tim Wolfe's resignation: "The #MizzouHungerStrike is officially over!" Butler also addressed a buoyant crowd about their months of protests against racism and sexism on campus, the New York Times reports. "It should not have taken this much, and it is disgusting and vile that we find ourselves in the place that we do," Butler said. He became central to the campaign when he announced that he would consume no "food or nutritional sustenance" until Wolfe was out or Butler's "internal organs fail and my life is lost," the Missourian reported at the time. Butler found powerful allies when black players on the Missouri football team, and then the coaching staff, refused to play with Wolfe as president, Gawker reports. (Gawker notes that coach Gary Pinkel earns $4 million per year and Wolfe less than $500,000.) "It was really heartwarming and encouraging really because I didn’t think that I had people in my corner in the beginning," Butler told the Washington Post on Sunday. What drove Butler to take such drastic action, which he says gave him pain, shortness of breath, and wildly fluctuating body temperatures? "The campus climate here at the University of Missouri is an ugly one," says Butler. "I'm on a campus where people feel free to call people the n-word, where people feel free as recently as last week, to used [their] own feces to smear a swastika in a residential hall. Everything that glitters is not gold."