One semester, I
walked into our classroom eager to get to know the students and to explore the
content of the class. I walked into a room primarily filled with self-identified
Euro-American, middle-class students. Including myself, there were three
identified people of color. This is not necessarily new for me. For most of
my career I’ve taught in White spaces.
As I distributed
the syllabus something caught my eye. Sitting dead center in the classroom was
a young woman. She appeared like the typical student. But there was something,
something that made my breath catch in my throat. What drew my attention to
this one student in particular was the scowl she wore. I’ve had students look
at me cross-eyed from time to time. Shoot, I’ve even had a student throw paper
at me as a means of expressing anger. But there was something compelling about
this young lady. Something that brought me up short for a little bit. In that moment
I had to take a mental break to regroup. Her stare was that intense.
I thought her
expression would change once as the semester progressed. Well, I was wrong. For
the entire semester, there she sat—dead center with a look of hatred permeating
her essence. I decided that if she did not disturb the class then I would leave
her to her feelings. However, I cannot say that this young woman didn’t have an
affect on me. Now she might be an extreme case, just like the student who
banged on my office door yelling “bitch” and other expletives. Regardless of
how explicit or subtle these types of experiences, whether at the hands of
students or colleagues, they affect us. They affect us in the short term and
the long term. Sometimes, the affects are intense and at other times, they are
subtle (see "Paper Cuts Hurt Too"). Regardless, we have
to find space in our lives for living as a Black woman (or other minoritized
body) in these primarily White classrooms.
What I offer are
three tips that I hope will help you, over the course of the semester, navigate
these spaces and create the space that you need.
Creating space. Creating space is not just about
creating physical or even intellectual space. Others such as Manya Whitaker have documented
the challenges women of color faculty members face in creating such space. However,
what is sometimes missing in these discussions are other types of space that we
need to create in our efforts to survive and thrive.
Creating space
for me also involves the opening up of psychological space—a space where we can
(re)affirm that we belong in these spaces that sometimes tell us other.
Part of creating your space, in essence your sanctuary, might involve using
essential oils in your office so that you can generate and encourage synergy between the
senses. I combine scent, with music and visual reminders—art, books, etc.—to create
a sense of wholeness in my office. One element of creating such space requires that we
think critically of all that brings us joy, but not at a superficial level. I’m
talking about the type of joy that reaches you deep down in your core.
Putting it into practice:
Pause for a
moment and close your eyes. Ask yourself what can you do on a daily basis that
(re)affirms you in what might be a troubled space. Don’t worry about what you
think others might put on their list. Don’t worry about how your actions might
be viewed by others. Have a moment of honesty with you so that you can reveal,
in time, what nurtures you at your core. Listen to your heart not just your
head. Write down the first thoughts that come to mind. Now, ask yourself, what
can I do today, in a week, in a month to manifest these thoughts? If at first
you cannot imagine what you might be able to do, then don’t force yourself. As
you go through your day simply pay attention to what you do and how you feel
and then reflect on how you might align your actions in a way that supports
you.
Creating a mantra. Sometimes we find ourselves in
situations where we can’t easily retreat, where we have to square our shoulders
and keep moving forward. Again, using the case of the student I mentioned
above, I had to continue teaching the class. Consequently I had to find a way
of literally and figuratively shaking off her behavior each time I entered the
classroom. In such situations we need to center ourselves, we need something
that we can use to metaphorically bring us back and ground us. Creating a
mantra was helpful during this time.
When mantras are silently
repeated during meditation, they help us disconnect from the thoughts filling
our mind and slip into the gap between thoughts. Think of mantras as ancient
power words with subtle intentions that help us connect to spirit, the source
of everything in the universe (Deepak.)
I don’t think
that we have to wait for a period of meditation to benefit from a mantra. It is
technique of simply being that we can deploy at any time. A mantra can be one
word, a Bible (or other religious text) verse, or a song lyric. For me, the
mantra has to have meaning that is reflective of the particular stage of my
life cycle. In other words, it must resonate.
Putting it into practice
If you don’t
already have a mantra you can review readings that resonated with you to help
you create one. Again, pause for a moment, close your eyes, take a deep
breath and allow your thoughts to flow. What invites you in and says, “come in
and sit down”? What feeling do you want to focus on today, next week, next
month? Sometimes, my mantra is one word “peace”. At other times, it’s a
sentence. Once you have found a mantra that resonates with you, write it
down. Write it on note cards, on a note
on your phone or computer. Put it some place (or in my case places) where you
can see it and be reminded of it every day. Repeat it every day. Finally, don’t
be afraid to change your mantra as needed. When you walk into a situation that
makes your breath catch, or even before walking into such a space, repeat your
mantra. When you are sitting in that meeting and something is said that makes
you want to audibly gasp, repeat your mantra. Doing such creates space for us
to invite other feelings/responses.
Being Vulnerable: Sometimes we need to create space for
our vulnerabilities. This can be challenging given that academe constructs
itself as a place of “non-emotion”. One
way we can find an opening in this environment is to rely on our ancestors and
the wisdom they have left behind for us. The wisdom of our ancestors provides
us with a means of breaking the silence around our experiences. Recently, I
found myself relying on the wisdom of Audre Lorde to get through a rather
racist/sexist/classist/misogynistic episode. I felt as though I had been
abandoned and I simply could not articulate my feelings. Others reached out to
me, but I needed to retreat for a moment and allow myself to feel that my feet
were once again planted. I cannot explain how I meandered my way to the
writings of Audre Lorde, but I did. In her words I found comfort, theory,
explanations, and a voice. She showed me a way out of the muting that I was
experiencing. And so I clung to her words until I was ready to expose my
vulnerability and hurt to others.
Putting it into practice
Again, take a
pause for reflection. As painful a this might be, reflect on a moment that
caused you pain. Sometimes, it’s easy to stop there and put most of the focus
on the external event, without thinking of what really caused pain. I
encourage you to not only focus on the first level pain, but also what
underlies this pain. As you do this, you have to practice what I think is key
to being vulnerable—self-love. So as
you allow yourself a moment to think of this situation—do so without judgment
of self or others. The goal is to simply gather information. Once we can be
vulnerable, we can begin to heal. This is where Audre Lorde became important
for me. Her writings offered me that healing space. Who might you turn to help
you through your healing process? Who has articulated your pain in a way that
allows you to recognize your pain and that gives you the words to articulate
such pain? Who gives you a way out of that pain? Once you have identified the
pain and nurtured yourself in the words of your ancestors, consider writing
your story and sharing it with others. Give others an opportunity to be
vulnerable so that we can collectively heal.
The above
strategies have helped me to negotiate the often trouble spaces I encounter as
a Black woman in predominately White classrooms. What I can tell you is that
the key to it all is my willingness to be honest—to be honest when I am not
able to endure the challenges of being a Black, immigrant, woman in academe; to
be honest, when I need others to help “carry” me. It is this honesty, at and
individual and institutional level, that allows me to survive and thrive and to
have some level of success in academia. I wish you all a healthy semester.
