Slinka-Petka | Let’s change the mascot

The whistle blow fills the Palestra, the lights flash, players sprint onto the floor, and then … the Penn’s Quaker walks out.

And all of the momentum is gone. 

While, arguably, our mascot is superior to some such anathema as Harvard’s “Crimson,” we’re not exactly in a totally different league. The Quaker has historical importance, remnants of Philadelphia’s namesake as “Quaker City.” For some, this is what makes our Quaker special. He’s traditional and an homage to Penn’s extensive history as one of the oldest universities in the United States. 

To love the quaker is a perfectly fine assertion, however in the modern age of 2026, it’s less popular when compared to mascot giants like Texas’ Bevo, Ohio State’s Brutus, Oregon’s Duck, or Alabama’s Uga. While the job for mascots at other universities such as West Virginia boast a competitive, highly selective, and coveted mascot position, trying to get anyone to be the Quaker is like pulling teeth. 

I don’t blame anyone for it either. The Quaker is largely unconnected from Penn’s identity, both nationally and from within. Culturally, students rarely speak of the mascot, likely only to comment on its peculiar and vaguely creepy design. During games you might see the Quaker combing through the stands to stop a couple of fans for a photo. But he’s definitely not fighting off crowds of admirers. 

I’ve personally witnessed small children run the other way. Can’t say the same would happen to Uga. Often, you’ll see the Quaker awkwardly sitting alone in the rafters, throwing a spare fist in the air when something exciting happens. Go Quakers!

And of course, we can’t criticize the Quaker without discussing what makes him such a flop. If Penn had a roaring sports culture, he would be an icon of camaraderie and spirit. He would soar across Franklin Field to be met with cheers and toast. But Penn’s sports culture cannot support a mascot that’s even slightly unloveable. Obviously that’s on us. But unfortunately, it’s not changing anytime soon. Penn’s March Madness appearance was barely a topic of conversation. Even in our great successes excitement is sparse. 

Penn students care about their careers and money and world domination, not their mascot. What will connect us when we’re long graduated is our clubs, social circles, and Pret orders. The Quaker is rarely connected to Penn or its student experience. 

Mascots at large universities aren’t just decorations. They create traditions. They lead chants. They make rituals that students learn when they arrive and repeat when they graduate. At schools like Ohio State or Oregon, the mascot is recognized by students before they even step on campus. It gives people the shared language of school spirit before they even have friends there.

No one outside of Philadelphia, or even outside of Penn’s campus, understands the relevance of the Quaker. Most people head straight to google “What even is a Quaker?” At least Stanford’s “Tree,” though a bit odd, has a distinct identity in the world of college athletics. Cosmo the Cougar is BYU. Otto the Orange is Syracuse. We’re not known for anything; the Quaker makes sure of it.  

So what comes next? What would Penn even change the mascot to? Making us something like the Penn Bears or Tigers would lack legacy. Connecting to our founder, Ben Franklin, with the Kite or the Bifocals would be even worse.

Of course, there’s something appealing about keeping the Quaker simply because he’s always been there. Penn is proud of its age and its traditions; the mascot reflects that history. But tradition only works when people still feel connected to it. Right now, the Quaker isn’t a shared symbol but a leftover one.

Penn doesn’t need to erase its history to change its mascot. It just needs something students actually feel is theirs. Most Penn students couldn’t tell you the last time they genuinely rallied behind the Quaker. The identity that actually resonates on campus already exists: it’s excellence, Philadelphia, and the idea of building something new. A mascot drawn from those qualities would feel earned and something to celebrate. The point isn't to become another school with a random animal on the jersey. It’s to pick something that makes students want to show up.

Penn doesn’t have to become Ohio State overnight. Nobody is asking for a mascot that rides motorcycles or does pushups after touchdowns. But if Penn actually wants students to stay past halftime, it needs something that feels like part of the experience, rather than a relic of it. But right now, the Quaker walks onto the court and the crowd just watches. That’s the problem.

PIPER SLINKA-PETKA is a College sophomore from West Virginia studying health and societies. Her email is pipersp@sas.upenn.edu.