The Table: Stories from Black Women in Student Affairs E-Book

The Table Books

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Black women work twice as hard to have a seat at the infamous table. The table that once we have a seat at, we are told to be grateful for or else we could lose it—back to the kitchen, preparing meals that we may never have the pleasure of sitting down and enjoying. We are given no plate. No utensils. No napkin to clean up those accidental spills.

Instead of waiting for a seat at a table where we would have to compromise our stories or have them told by those who have not walked our paths, we decided to build our own table and invited some of our sisters to sit with us and indulge in its spread. This book is an anthology of the various trials and triumphs 11 Black women encountered while working in the student affairs sector of higher education. We are connected by our experiences navigating in spaces where we have sometimes felt disempowered but we have learned the trade of maneuvering in a professional environment, and world, dominated by white people.

This is just the beginning. We will be adding more chairs, assembling more tables and inviting others in our communities to have a seat where they’d like. No more unfulfilled appetites and unseasoned dishes. No more scrapes from biting our tongues. At this table, we define spaces. We center conversations. We invite fellowship. We serve you food for your soul and truth elixir for your thirst.

Leseprobe

The events and conversations in this book have been set down to the best of the authors’ abilities, although some names and details may have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

Copyright © 2018 The Table Books

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher or respective chapter author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

For information about discounts for bulk purchases, contact [email protected].

ISBN: 9781513651118

To Black women, from Black women

Contents

Sienna Abdulahad

Story 1

A Holistic Application of Black Girl Magic in Higher Ed

Acknowledgments

References

Ansley A. Booker

Story 2

“Stemtastic”: A Black Girl’s Journey Through Science Exploration

Acknowledgments

References

Sierra L. Hairston

Story 3

I Quit

Acknowledgments

Tabitha D. James

Story 4

Got Out Quick

Acknowledgments

Coretta King & Jillian Sturdivant

Story 5

Two Dope Women On The Mic: Path Toward Self-Empathy and Self-Empowerment

Teara Lander

Story 6

The Origin Story of a Token Black Girl

Tiffany R. Paige

Story 7

Finessed: How Can I Trust the Process When the Process Wasn’t Created For Me?

Acknowledgments

Chavonn Reed

Story 8

Innocence is Not Bliss

Acknowledgments

Leah Ward

Story 9

Swiss Miss: A Story of Surviving Abroad

Ashley Young-Waters

Story 10

“Look At My African-American Over Here”—45

Acknowledgments

Afterword

Sienna Abdulahad is a higher education professional with a decade of experience in online, experiential, social media and print marketing. She earned her B.S. in Marketing and Management from Siena College and an M.A.Ed. in Higher Education and Student Affairs from Virginia Tech. In 2018, she began serving as the Associate Director for Multicultural Affairs at Tulane University. She has experience working in multicultural programs and services, student activities, inclusion and diversity, and academic advising.

Sienna has always been committed to excellence when working with and for students. Throughout her time in the profession, she has proposed initiatives that challenge the status quo and counter the dominant narratives in our society. As a mother of two brilliant Black sons and the wife of a college professor, she has always been particularly concerned with the success of young, gifted, and melinated students who are historically and currently marginalized from kindergarten through higher education. She works daily to address their concerns, and identify opportunities that position them to thrive.

When she is not at work, Sienna prefers to spend time with her family and friends hiking, traveling, and reading. She is a member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Incorporated

and serves the sisterhood as a contributor to RealZetas.com. Sienna plans to pursue a doctoral degree in the coming years and become an active contributor to the body of research on the success of underrepresented students in higher education.

Black Girl Magic: Theory to Practice

This story is one narrative that demonstrates the function of Black Girl Magic as a framework for handling what life throws at Black women in our lifetime. It can be explained using a strengths-based, intersectional approach to depression identified by scholars, Quenette L. Walton and Olubunmi Basirat Oyewuwo-Gassikia, which builds upon the foundations of Kimberle Crenshaw’s theory on intersectionality. This framework has the potential to naturally align with the lived experiences of Black women in higher education. Its application supports the findings of Black women scholars in a field of study that informs our professional practice in student affairs. Furthermore, it is imperative to expand beyond experiences in the workplace to counter the narrative that work and life are mutually exclusive components of our reality which must be “balanced” separately. Moving toward a more holistic understanding of how the #BlackGirlMagic framework can be applied offers the opportunity for empathy and meaning making. For this reason I will focus on mental, emotional, and physical health, personal and professional relationships, the national/global social climate, and intersectionality throughout the chapter.

Perspectives: My Reality

I have not secured the bag I want professionally: a doctoral degree and a sweet position situated as a teaching student affairs administrator (which probably won’t happen after I share this story). However, I have come a long way from where my life began in Rahway, New Jersey. I spent my early childhood code switching between suburban Colonia, where I went to school, and “urban” Elizabeth, where I lived. I would have two sets of friends. One middle class, predominantly white group that lived near my grandmother. And one predominantly Black and Puerto Rican friend group that lived much closer to the poverty line near my great-grandmother. I learned to recognize and appreciate difference, navigate tokenization, and process bias incidents before I was ten. In 1994 we moved to Atlanta, Georgia where I went to high school.

Given my background, I met the expectations of my family members. This included achieving the ideal goals of full-time employment, healthy children, and a happy marriage. For them, that was securing the bag. As the eldest of my grandmother’s grandchildren, I am often held as that example for “doing things right” or #BlackGirlMagic. While I’m flattered at the assumption of perfection, there were obstacles, pitfalls, and second chances that got me through. I sure didn't get here alone or without battle scars. This is one reason I struggled with the concept of #BlackGirlMagic when I first encountered it online. The idea that I went to school, got married, and had children, all in the right order and everything about that path was clean and orderly didn’t sit right with me. I didn’t believe that this was a testament to being a magical Black woman. The truth is all my “accomplishments” were rooted in my ability to make one or two critical decisions in my personal life coupled with the support of women of color who exhibited unique ways of achieving and defining success. My godmothers, aunties, and my mom. It was more like #BlackGirlLogic than magic.

The first right decision was choosing a partner (well I guess he chose me) who authentically believes in equity. I can’t say this loud enough, but I would not be where I am today had I not walked into the local mall on the southside of Atlanta, looking for a job. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a job that day. But I met the most caring person in this world. I found an unconditional best friend who would stay with me no matter how outlandish I could get. Someone who was made for (just as brilliant, stubborn, and determined as) me. It’s possible he saw some magic in me because he would set his bar just a touch higher than I set it for myself, on every single aspect of life. Somehow, I rose to the occasion. It was our relationship that steered me toward a career in higher education.

Without this level of unapologetically Black love, I would not have continued my undergraduate degree in Marketing and Management after giving birth to two children in a two-year span. When I doubted myself, I was constantly reminded that he set the example as a father, husband, and full-time student pursuing a doctoral degree all at the same time. Everything we are today is deeply connected to our resilience and ability to thrive together no matter what. That, and not making the wrong decisions at extremely important points in our lives. I didn’t think any of that was magical. I think it’s synergistic and real.

As you can see, I have struggled to authentically apply this hashtag or corresponding philosophy to my life in any real way. Until I realized it was there all along and it would serve me well in a time of need. That is when I situated myself in the framework, ultimately changing my perspective.

Holistically Defining #BlackGirlMagic

In my experience #BlackGirlMagic has multiple interpretations. The first meaning is rooted in our ability to thrive in the face of oppression we endure in a society that gives us hate. The second focuses on the ways in which Black women navigate the complex roles we play in our communities. The third is based in our ability to empower one another through shared experiences. Together these meanings form a type of synergistic relationship that can be found playing out in the lives of Black women. According to scholars in the field of social work, the “key themes of #BlackGirlMagic are sisterhood, self-love, and positive affirmation from the voices of and about Black women and girls” (Walton & Oyewuwo-Gassikia, 2017). In higher education and student affairs, #BlackGirlMagic is critical to our ability to thrive in an environment that was not designed by or for Black women.

Sisterhood: Empowerment Through Shared Experiences

I began working part-time in the Division of Student Affairs at a mid-sized university after completing an undergraduate program at a small, private college in the Northeast. Determined to perform on a level that would position me for advancement (a.k.a. full-time status), I worked to make the position my own. I received awards, opportunities for professional development, and my supervisor seemed to genuinely believe I was thriving in my role. That progress came to a halt when the entire department’s leadership team experienced turnover. It was during my first few years working in the field, that I realized institutions are loyal to no one, and everyone is fair game when it’s time for a “cultural shift” or change in leadership. Especially professionals of color who served as advocates and role models with social capital on and off campus. As you can imagine this created acute stress regarding stability in the workplace.

During this time, I lost my greatest advocate in the division. She was a woman of color with the social capital I mentioned previously. Someone Brittney Cooper would call a “Strong Female Lead” (Cooper, 2018). Being the only woman and person of color on the executive leadership team at the time, she constantly said my name when professional development opportunities were on the table. She was not my assigned mentor, but she kept her door open to me whenever I needed to discuss anything. I would sit on her couch and pick her brain about living in the area, working at a PWI, and navigating the campus political culture. She was both a personal and professional role model and she saw some magic in me. She didn’t just say “That girl is going places”, grab some popcorn, then sit back and watch. She went out of her way to build my credibility around the university through exposure to conferences, training, committees, and service on the departmental leadership team. She used a little Black Girl Magic of her own, in the midst of a tumultuous time in her own career, to position me for success. She also connected me with other Black and Brown strong female leads who would eventually help me learn how to wield my own wand of influence.

Most of my mentor’s sponsorship didn’t come from me seeking her out for help. It came from her genuine interest in my success. In reality, this person was just being a great, yet underappreciated, supervisor. She did the same for each of her direct reports. However, I didn’t report to her. I always wondered, why she looked out for me? She told me recently that she recognized my potential and noticed that I was not being “utilized by the leadership” in productive ways. She didn’t just look out for me solely because I was another woman of color in the department. She did it because she knew I “could handle anything that came my way”.

Her words inform the third interpretation of #BlackGirlMagic. If one Black Girl is magical, two must be unstoppable. So why not affirm one another? This is a counter-narrative to the belief there is only one seat at the table for Black women. This is what Black girls affirming and empowering one another in a predominantly white (or any) professional environment looks like. I am forever grateful that someone cared enough to say my name at the right moment. Had another Black girl not said my name and offered affirmations when it mattered most, I don’t think I would have learned to look out for others and say the names of women of color who have the ability to lead in our field. It is our shared experience that connects us. We should not be ashamed to do what our counterparts do for one another everyday.

Thrive: In the Face of Oppression

By the end of that transition period in the division, my accomplice had moved on. I reported to four different supervisors between interim directors, deans, and assistant vice presidents. I struggled with inequity in the department regarding the treatment of women and people of color, including disparities in compensation and resources for professional development. Had it not been for another colleague, who had years of wisdom to share and a willingness to listen, I would not have stayed at the institution. She patiently rechanneled my attention to the most important things in my life at the time, my family. She encouraged me to choose my battles wisely and navigate with the future in mind.

Experiencing the glass ceiling of most undergraduate degree recipients, I decided to talk to my supervisor at the time, who was also woman of color. That meeting did not go well. I made the mistake of assuming the sponsorship I had received prior to this point, would transfer from one advocate to another. I quickly learned that my triumphant soror, Zora Neale Hurston, was right. “All My Skinfolk Ain’t Kinfolk”. The messaging and tone of that meeting communicate a lack of will to leverage apparent power to advocate for changes that would enhance the department. I was doing full time work for part time compensation and no benefits (including tuition reimbursement). I was seeking parity with my white colleagues who were doing less than what was expected of a full time employee with benefits. I received no real help from my supervisor. But I did get the motivation to move on.

I share this not to shame or call out others. But to note my realization that there may be counter-narratives to the third interpretation of #BlackGirlMagic. I began to account for internalized oppression when dealing with colleagues moving forward. I also began to recognize that many Black women in leadership roles limit their power because they don’t want to be perceived as promoting nepotism. In a world where no one is playing by the rules, Black professionals often balance putting their own credibility on the line when speaking up for another person of color. I assume it is easier to play your position than to justify why you advocate for women who look like you. Needless to say I was disheartened by the lessons I learned, but it would help when pursuing my next opportunity for professional growth.

I decided to meet with key leadership in the division who valued my work and my voice. Those conversations would later translate to recommendation letters. I determined it was time for a major change and talked it over with my family. I needed to take ownership of my professional development in a way that would never leave me vulnerable during times of extreme transition in this profession. At 29 years old, I submitted my application for the Master of Arts in Higher Education program and took the GRE, hoping that I would finally have the credentials to match my three years of demonstrated experience in student affairs. I also thought this would ultimately reduce the looming financial burden of student loan debt, another point of stress in my life.

It was during interview weekend that I started to feel whole again. The stressful part of my first three years in higher education would soon be over, or so I thought. The room, like the field of student affairs, was filled with many ambitious white women. Up to this point I was indifferent about my interactions with this population of aspiring higher ed professionals. But I had just witnessed the overhaul of an entire division at my institution and when all was said and done, white women and women who aspired to whiteness, were in most of the leadership roles. I didn’t know who I would be able to trust or even connect with in the cohort, if I was admitted to the program. So I searched for someone who at least looked like me.

During a late break between interviews with faculty, I decided to speak to the only other Black woman in the room. In my previous experience with other Black women competing for spots in a cohort for any reason, I felt the need to say something that let her know I was not a threat. In passing, I introduced myself and reminded each of us there’s room for both of us in this program. I said something along the lines of, “ It would be ideal if we both were accepted”. Just putting those words out there calmed the tension we often feel. Fortunately, that ideal became our reality. We were both accepted into the program and we supported one another through two years of being the “only” Black women in the cohort.