The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy [1 ed.] 9781623965044, 9781623965020

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The Duality of Women Scholars of Color Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy

A Volume in Research on Women and Education Series Editors Beverly J. Irby, Texas A&M University Janice Koch, Hofstra University

Research on Women and Education Beverly J. Irby and Janice Koch, Series Editors Defining and Redefining Gender Equity in Education (2002) edited by Janice Koch and Beverly Irby Gender and Schooling in the Early Years (2005) edited by Janice Koch and Beverly Irby Gender and Early Learning Environments (2011) edited by Beverly Irby and Genevieve H. Brown The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the (2014) edited by Gaëtane Jean-Marie, Cosette M. Grant, and Beverly J. Irby

The Duality of Women Scholars of Color Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy

Edited by

Gaëtane Jean-Marie University of Oklahoma

Cosette M. Grant University of Cincinnati

Beverly J. Irby Texas A&M University

INFORMATION AGE PUBLISHING, INC. Charlotte, NC • www.infoagepub.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The duality of women scholars of color transforming and being transformed in the academy / edited by Gaktane Jean-Marie, University of Oklahoma, Cosette M. Grant University of Cincinnati, Beverly Irby, Sam Houston State University. pages cm. -- (Research on women and education) ISBN 978-1-62396-502-0 (paperback) -- ISBN 978-1-62396-503-7 (hardcover) -ISBN 978-1-62396-504-4 (ebook) 1. Women in higher education--Cross-cultural studies. 2. Minority women in higher education. 3. Women college teachers. 4. Women scholars. I. Jean-Marie, Gaktane. LB2332.3.D83 2014 378.0082--dc23                 2013038077

Copyright © 2014 IAP–Information Age Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, or by photocopying, microfilming, recording or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America

Praise for The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transformed and Being Transformed in the Academy This book is a stellar collection of studies by women of color academics on the topics of educational leadership, mentoring and social justice praxis. In many ways, the contributors accomplish for their audience what they set out to investigate: a sense of belonging to support the academic trajectories of women of color in higher education. For emerging faculty of color, established scholars, and for those with a vested interest in understanding the dynamics that shape promotion, retention, and putting into practice a socially just framework in educational leadership, this book is a must read! The women scholars of this edited collection demonstrate rigor, perseverance and innovative approaches to developing methodologies and theories that serve to address the continued marginalization of women of color academics. —Nathalia E. Jaramillo PhD, Critical Studies in Education Te Kura o te Kotuinga Akoranga Matauranga Faculty of Education, University of Auckland In The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, Jean-Marie, Grant and Irby have made an important contribution to our understanding of an important and underexplored issue. For too long, women of color in the academy have suffered from institutional and interpersonal racism, yet their experiences have been marginalized, ignored or trivialized. This book is a collection of success stories and setbacks that should be required reading for all who work in university settings. There are insightful lessons here for women of color in academe, but also for those women and men who would be advocates and allies in their ongoing struggle for social justice. —Dr. Jeffrey S. Brooks, Professor of Educational Leadership at the University of Idaho and co-editor (with Dr. Noelle Arnold) of Confronting Racism in Higher Education: Problems and Possibilities for Fighting Ignorance, Bigotry and Isolation Jean-Marie, Grant and Irby use the power of voice and agency to examine the interconnectedness of race, culture and gender and the implications for women of color navigating the higher education context. This text will position the struggle of women of color in academia firmly within the mainstream discourse on social justice and equity. This is a must read for scholars and graduate students interested in a critical examination of the journey of women of color in academia. —Monika Williams Shealey, PhD, Professor and Dean College of Education, Rowan University More Praise on Back Cover

Contents Foreword.................................................................................................... ix Gaëtane Jean-Marie, Cosette M. Grant, and Beverly J. Irby Acknowledgments...................................................................................... xi Introduction: Historical and Contemporary Milieu on Women of Color Scholars in the Academy..................................... xiii Cosette M. Grant, Gaëtane Jean-Marie, and Beverly J. Irby 1. From Chair to Podium: A Narrative Experience of an African American Female Emerging Scholar’s Entry Into the Academy.......................................................................................1 Cosette M. Grant 2. Navigating the Academy: Exploring Barriers and Possibilities in Scholarship Through the Lens of an American Indian Scholar................................................................. 31 Hollie Mackey 3. Call Me by My True Names: An Emerging Scholar’s Transformation Within and Outside the Academy......................... 53 Natalie A. Tran 4. Transcending “Other” by Building Bridges in Pursuit of Social Justice: Experience of a Caribbean Female Faculty in the Academy................................................................................. 73 Gaëtane Jean-Marie



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5. Interrupting the Usual in the Academy: Creating a Sense of Belonging Among Latina Faculty...................................... 93 AnneMarie Nuñez, Elizabeth Murakami-Ramalho, and Elsa Ruiz 6. Grace at the Top: A Black Feminist Perspective on Critical Leadership in the Academy........................................................... 115 Lorri J. Santamaría 7. Remaining Connected to the Sociocultural Experiences of Underserved Populations: Volunteering and Advocacy in Research and Practice in the Academy.......................................... 133 Brenda Lloyd-Jones About the Authors................................................................................... 151

Foreword Gaetane Jean-Marie, Cosette M. Grant, and Beverly J. Irby

Judy Sorum Brown (2007) described the importance of listening to all voices in a brief poem where she references how everybody counts when the spider weaves the web. She indicated how no connecting point is missed. In this poetic musing in a book on educational leadership, Brown reflected on how “we are the lesser if you are missing from our midst” and as the “lesser,” we are incomplete. Finding one’s place in the academy, acclimating oneself and attaining tenure, potentially moving on to leadership positions in the academic institution or related professional organization is a lot like weaving a web. It takes purposeful action, thoughtful determination, and careful consideration of how to connect the threads. It requires that one paces herself and builds slowly towards her goal. How uniquely different that experience becomes if one is a woman of color in the academy is described within this edited volume in a way that reminds us that diverse voices are a necessary component of growth and change for the academy and that necessary transformations, from without and within, can be the product of listening to all voices. In Peggy McIntosh’s (1988) essay, “White Privilege and Male Privilege: A Personal Account of Coming to See Correspondences through Work in Women’s Studies,” which is still appropriate over 20 years later, we are

The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages ix–x Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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reminded that many times whites work from a base of unacknowledged privilege, which she coins an “invisible knapsack” (p. 2), and she continued to describe assumptions from everyday life that white people can make that are not often available to people of color. In examining that list, I thought of the lives of women of color in the academy and selected some underlining privileges that white faculty have that cannot be shared by their colleagues of color: 1. I can if I wish arrange to be in the company of people of my race most of the time. 2. If I should need to move, I can be pretty sure of renting or purchasing housing 3. in an area which I can afford and in which I would want to live. 4. I can be pretty sure that my neighbors in such a location will be neutral or pleasant to me. 5. I can speak in public to a powerful male group without putting my race on trial. 6. I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my race. 7. I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group. 8. I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority without feeling in my culture any penalty for such oblivion. 9. I can criticize our government and talk about how much I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a cultural outsider. 10. I can be pretty sure that if I ask to talk to “the person in charge,” I will be facing a person of my race” (McIntosh, 1988, pp. 5-9). In this edited volume, voices of women scholars of color share their stories and their research in an effort to contribute to the underrepresented voices of those who enter the academy lacking the invisible knapsack of privilege shared by most of their colleagues. Their voices have been missing, and we are lesser for it. Janice Koch PhD February 2013 References Brown, J. (2007). A leader’s guide to reflective practice. Victoria, BC: Trafford Publishing. McIntosh, P. (1988). White privilege and male privilege: A personal account of coming to see correspondences through work in women’s studies. Wellesley, MA: Wellesley Centers for Research on Women.

Acknowledgments This book was motivated by the collective interests and energy of eight women of color educational leadership scholars in academe: Gaëtane Jean-Marie; Cosette Grant; Brenda Lloyd-Jones; Hollie Mackey; Elizabeth Murakami-Ramalho; AnneMarie Nuñez; Lorri J. Santamaría and Natalie Tran, who formed Advancing Women of Color in the Academy (AWOCA) in 2010 out of the need to better connect a scholarly network of women of color through research on critical issues on or about women of color in the field of education. AWOCA is an interethnic, transdisciplinary and cross-institutional collaborative group dedicated to the advancement of women of color in the academy through the production of scholarly work that supports and promotes the retention and achievement of women of color scholars in the academy.   This book marks the first of many series of scholarship by AWOCA that focuses attention on the contributions as well as challenges to advancing women of color in academe. The idea for this special issue arose out of our own personal recognitions of the struggles and triumphs of women of color in the academy that we disclosed formally and informally, in National Education Conference forums, span over a few years. Therefore, our work here is inspired by our shared individual experiences, as well as our common collective experiences in academe. Our work is further stimulated by our observations regarding the status of women of color in academe in the nascent literature base that we have been able to contex-

The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages xi–xii Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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tualize and empiricize through scholarship. Moreover, we tested our work in response to earlier related scholarship, Jean-Marie and Lloyd-Jones’ books (2011) Women of Color in Higher Education: Contemporary Perspectives and New Directions and Women of Color in Higher Education: Turbulent Past, Promising Future, as well as Turner’s Book (2011) Women of Color in Academe: Living with Multiple Marginality. Although all women in academia are challenged with achieving a balance between career and family, women scholars of color (that is, African American, Asian American, Hispanic, Caribbean and Native American women) face additional demands that make advancement up the academic ladder even more toilsome. These challenges stem from a diverse array of factors, including inherent bias, cultural differences related to the role of women as primary caretakers and excessive institutional responsibilities. Women of color not only are expected to serve on institutional committees, but also to champion diversity initiatives actively. Collectively, these challenges can impair advancement. However, this book has responded to the myriad of challenges facing women of color in academe, while also building on the legacy of women of color and bringing to the forefront comprehensive lessons of their survival, perseverance and resilience, in spite of impediments. Heartfelt thanks are due to the Editors, Beverly J. Irby and Janice Koch, of this book series—Research on Women in Education—and for them believing in the worth and significance of the collective works represented in this book. And also, a special thank you to the contributing authors of chapters that are included in this book, to those reviewers who critiqued various chapters and drafts of this book and finally, thank you to the book endorsers—colleagues Jeff Brooks, Beverly Guy-Sheftall, Nathalia Jaramillo, Monika Shealey Williams and Caroline Turner.

Introduction Historical and Contemporary Milieu on Women of Color Scholars in the Academy Cosette M. Grant, Gaëtane Jean-Marie, and Beverly J. Irby

Historically, women of color, collectively defined as American Indian, Asian American, African American, and Hispanic (Ryu, 2010) in the academy, are marked with a legacy of exclusion and their struggle for inclusion (Grant, 2012). Research on the experiences of women of color reveal that the culture of academia has been described as less than a hospitable place to navigate the various aspects of academic life (Gibson, 2006; GlazerRaymo, 1999, 2008; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a, 2011b). In general, women of color have shared membership in marginalized groups, and they have experienced varied forms of discrimination in their efforts to fully participate in society (Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a; Lloyd-Jones, 2011; Santamaría & Santamaría, 2012). In further support of this, several scholars (Collins, 2000; Dillard, 1995; Glazer-Raymo, 2008; Harley, 2008; Mackey, 2011; Nuñez, & Murakami-Ramalho, 2011; Turner, Gonzalez, & Wood, 2008) have contended that women of color in the academy differ in experiences, background, and beliefs. Nevertheless, they are connected through a continuum of struggle that is to be accepted and respected, The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages xiii–xxii Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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and, thus, they are linked through their active voice in the academy by perspectives that traditionally have been marginalized. In particular, marginal positions in academic settings have been occupied by women faculty of color, and negative stereotypes and inequities continue to exist and create formidable barriers for women of color as they attempt to gain access and equity in educational environments. As such, women of color are less likely to gain access to networks and organizational systems for their success (Gibson, 2006; Grant, 2012; JeanMarie & Brooks, 2011; Tillman, 2001). However, as more women of color enter the academy, they are challenging traditional notions of research, disrupting structural barriers, and defining their voices as they navigate the Ivory Tower (Glazer-Raymo, 1999; Harley, 2008; Jean-Marie & LloydJones 2011a, 2011b). In general, women faculty of color identify with gender, ethnic, and racial bias in the academy as interlocking effects that compound the pressures of the workplace environment (Turner, 2002). They perceive that being both minority and female hampers their success as faculty members. While women scholars of color experience the intersection of race, ethnicity, and gender, the receptivity of their presence in the academy is not always acknowledged, and they often have to fight against the deservingness perspective that suggests they are unwelcomed or out of place (Miller, 2010). That coupled with many current faculty in educational administration preparation programs unwillingly admitting or not acknowledging that faculty of color provide various strengths, insights, and leadership that are important qualities to such a program is even more troubling (Grant, 2012; Quezada & Louque, 2004). As such, a lack of consciousness permeates and further demonstrates inequity and exploitation of women faculty of color in the academy. This nationwide challenge also pervades throughout all levels of the professoriate (Thomas & Hollenshead, 2001). Moreover, the marginalization of women of color in academe often translates into a feeling of invisibility (Grant, 2012). Because their research frequently has been viewed as insignificant, these women often have received little or no support for their intellectual pursuits, especially when their work has centered on racial, ethnic, and/or gender issues (Cox & Nkomo, 1990; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a, 2011b; Reyes & Halcon, 1988). Marginalization is further evidenced when women of color faculty are challenged to compromise their gender and/or racial/ethnic identities while their White colleagues hold unrealistic expectations, insisting that women of color are exemplary models of their racial/ethnic group that are somehow different from their particular group (Aguirre, 2000). Despite being on the margins, women of color need not consider their place in the academy as one of deprivation solely, but should instead be viewed,

Introduction  xv

and used as a site for developing a “community of resistance,” especially women of color (hooks, 1990, p. 149). As hooks (1990) explained: [M]arginality [is] much more than a site of deprivation in fact … it is also the site of radical possibility, a space of resistance. It was this marginality that I was naming as a central location for the production of a counter-hegemonic discourse that is not just found in words but in habits of being and the way one lives. As such, I was not speaking of a marginality one wishes to lose-to give up or surrender as part of moving into the center-but rather of a site one stays in, clings to even, because it nourishes one’s capacity to resist. It offers to one the possibility of radical perspective from which to see and create, to imagine alternatives, new worlds. (pp. 149-150)

Indeed, many women faculty of color thrive in their academic careers despite pervasive institutionalized racism and sexism. They are dismantling structural and social barriers that threaten authentic inclusion of women of color while making a difference. Numerous women faculty of color have documented their individual experiences of living and working on the margins in their professional careers (e.g., hooks, 1990; James & Farmer, 1993; Mackey, 2011; Miller, 2010; Nuñez, & Murakami-Ramalho, 2011); they have shared being “part of the whole, but outside the main body” (hooks, 1990, p. 149). Other scholars have documented that women of color encounter more barriers to professional socialization and success in the academic workplace than do their White female counterparts (Aguirre, 2000; Alfred, 2001; Jean-Marie, 2005). Hence, women faculty of color in the academy use their marginalized positions as spaces of resistance. Specifically, they reveal how their voices and actions of resistance collectively or individually transcend powerful, oppressive forces and enable themselves to cope and succeed outside the mainstream within the academy. Building on the legacy of women of color in the academy, this book provides empirical research on the present status of women faculty of color in higher educational settings. It provides a window into the presentday lived experiences of nine ethnically and culturally diverse women of color, in particular, African American, Haitian American, Hispanic/ Latina, American Indian, and Vietnamese American women, and their experiences within and outside the academy. The ideas for this book are derived from our own personal acknowledgments of the struggles and triumphs of women faculty of color in the academy that have been shared informally as well as in national and international education conference venues span over a few years. Therefore, this book serves to underscore our shared experiences, as well as foregrounds collective lessons of survival, perseverance, and resilience despite adversity. Emergent themes are also enumerated and highlight four significant career trajectory points of the

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scholar participants: (a) doctoral preparation experiences for advancement toward the professoriate, (b) experiences transitioning into a tenure-track faculty position, (c) experiences navigating as tenure-track faculty, and (d) experiences as tenured faculty in the academy. To contextualize this book, individual yet unique experiences are disclosed of women faculty of color who traverse many historic barriers and systemic boundaries and are creating discursive spaces in the academy to interrogate issues of social justice. To this end, tangible examples are provided of how these dynamic women draw on their dual role of scholar and social agent to transcend racism and sexism in the academy. Scholars share pedagogies and strategies used to matriculate successfully in the academy while transforming the academy. By sharing their experiences, theoretical insights, and educational practices, they raise thoughtprovoking issues that are critical to the advancement of women of color scholars in predominantly White institutions (PWIs) and Hispanic-serving institutions (HSIs). Further, the duality of race and gender—a legacy of oppression, slavery, colonialization, and/or conquest (Bernal, Trimble, Burlew, & Leong, 2003)—lend perspective to the duality many women scholars of color have experienced in their efforts to access opportunities, resources, and positions within the Ivory Tower. At the same time, their acts of resistance, endurance, and triumph in the face of adversities (Bernal et al., 2003) advance understanding on how they draw on their racial/ethnic legacies to defy obstacles that persist inside and outside of the academy. Moreover, the lived experiences of the authors range from stories of racism and sexism-based marginalization to ones of mentorship, advancement, and promotion (Bailey, Koney, McNish, Powers, & Uhly, 2008; Boyd, 2009; Carlton-LaNey, 2001; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a; 2011b; Raheim, 2009; Washington, 2009) and become a legitimate source for research data. Specifically, the seven chapters address long-standing concerns from first-hand perspectives regarding women of color faculty in the academy, the marginalization of women of color scholars in the academy, and the benefits of mentoring support. Discussion of such are threaded throughout this book. Mentoring has been a practice of leadership since Greek times, and research has documented its advantages (Dixon-Reeves, 2003; Gibson, 2006; Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Jean-Marie & Brooks, 2011; Sorcinelli & Yun, 2007; Tillman, 2001). Aligned with the authors’ espoused mentoring perspectives in this book is the coined concept of “synergistic mentoring” (Irby, 2012, p. 175). Accordingly, “Synergistic mentoring is defined as a mentor and mentee working together collaboratively to (a) generate a greater good for both, (b) integrate diverse perspectives into the context, and (c) construct together an otherwise unattainable goal attempted independently” (Irby, 2012, p. 175).

Introduction  xvii

In the first chapter, “From Chair to Podium: A Narrative Experience of an African American Female Emerging Scholar’s Entry Into the Academy,” Grant illustrates the connection between mentoring and her transitioning experiences as an African American female from doctoral student to a tenure-track faculty position in educational leadership at a PWI. She details her experiences in both the doctoral preparation for the professoriate and her transition into the professoriate at a PWI. In her study, Grant challenges traditional perspectives on mentoring—role modeling, psychosocial support, and professional development (Jacobi, 1991)—and she argues the efficacy of cross-cultural, interracial, and crossgender mentor relationships as equally beneficial to African American women in PWIs as same-sex and gender mentoring relationships (Grant & Simmons, 2008; Jean-Marie & Brooks, 2011). Because mentoring is becoming more integrated into educational leadership programs, this article is vital and hence adds to the scant literature on the experiences of African American women scholars and other women of color in the academy. Mackey’s chapter, “Navigating the Academy: Exploring Barriers and Possibilities in Scholarship through the Lens of an American Indian Scholar,” also fills a void in the literature on women of color scholars in the academy. In particular, Mackey’s study provides discursive space for critical thought on the ways in which identity development, mentoring, and engaging in research produces an organic flow of thought and action that characterize her unique experience as an American Indian female scholar in the academy. As Mackey asserts, American Indian voices, in particular American Indian female scholars of color in the academy, are often missing from both the dominant and subgroup perspectives; therefore, she provides important insights on the experience of an emerging scholar of American Indian descent. In the chapter “Call Me by My True Names: An Emerging Scholar’s Transformation Within and Outside the Academy,” Tran describes her journey toward the professoriate—a path paved with contradictions and transformation. With regard to the dichotomous role that women of color scholars are faced with in negotiating their place within PWI settings, Tran shares her unique experiences as a Vietnamese-American woman navigating through unwelcoming territory while defying irrational notions, hence, transforming the environment in which she is an outsider within (Collins, 2002; McDemmond, 1999). The duality, characterized in this case, by “lived contradiction and ambiguity, are the experiences of many women faculty or faculty of color” (Turner, 2002, p. 74). Additionally, Tran’s study is a story of personal struggle and perseverance—a dynamic and fluid process, which she deems as necessary for success in the academy. Similarly, “Transcending ‘Other’ by Building Bridges in Pursuit of Social Justice: Experience of a Caribbean Female Faculty in the Academy” by

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Jean-Marie provides her experiences as a Haitian-born, naturalized American citizen on what it means to be a Caribbean female in and outside the academy. In particular, this study is centrifugal to the axiom, “I am because we are, we are because I am” (Press, 2011), which centers on the communal representation of multiple voices that thrive because of a shared responsibility for that community. This Afro-centric communal philosophy threaded throughout Jean-Marie’s chapter enables her to tell her story and pass it along to others with the hope that they can continue the legacy of orientation toward and advocacy of social justice in order to combat systemic and cultural barriers. Moreover, Jean-Marie examines three trajectory points in her lived experiences: marginalization as an immigrant, the development of an affinity toward social justice research and praxis, and the advancement of social justice scholarship as a tenured professor. Lastly, Jean-Marie’s study captures the essence of this special issue and illustrates meaning—“how people make sense of their experiences” (Merriam, 1998, p. 19) related to women of color scholars transforming and being transformed in the academy, “as determined by those who are familiar with it” (Sutter, 2006, p. 320). “Interrupting the Usual in the Academy: Creating a Sense of Belonging among Latina Faculty” by Nuñez, Murakami-Ramalho, and Ruiz, provides personal narratives from the perspective of Latina faculty at an HSI. In their study, they explore their acclimation to their first academic position. Validation theory as a theoretical framework is used to inform their analysis and findings on the saliency of building collaborative academic and social relationships within the academy. Although they emphasized the significance of support groups created by and for Latina faculty in their adaptation into the academy, they also had unique experiences that contributed to their individual successes. The last two authors in their chapters, “Grace at the Top: A Black Feminist Perspective on Critical Leadership in the Academy” by Santamaría, and “Remaining Connected to the Sociocultural Experiences of Underserved Populations: Volunteering and Advocacy in Research and Practice in the Academy” by Lloyd-Jones, respond to a recurring call in research literature for the advancement of theories and practice relevant to women of color faculty in the academy. As evidenced in the aforementioned chapters, Santamaría’s and Lloyd-Jones’s empirical studies also privilege the value of historical and scholarly ontologies—understanding how things exist (Smith, Yosso, & Solórzano, 2007) that address ongoing concerns from new standpoints: critical leadership and human capital in the academy. While Santamaría documents shortages of women of color in the academy, with emphasis on education, educational leadership, and tenure-line academic appointments, Lloyd-Jones describes an innovative approach

Introduction  xix

through her scholarship that advocates for volunteerism and advocacy. For Santamaría, mentoring and direct access inspired her to chronicle her own participatory journey that spans from first-generation undergraduate student to academic appointment, Testimonio equals testimonial narrative from a Black feminist perspective (Patton, 2002). Through the use of life notes (Simmons, 2007), journal entries, scholarly papers, and published articles as viable forms of data, Santamaría helps advance the empirical research on women of color scholars in the academy. Additionally, in her study, Lloyd-Jones stresses the importance of Follow your passion! Do what you love! as an adage of importance and meaning for African American women faculty, many of whom are working at PWIs. Consequently, strategies embedded in Santamaría’s and Lloyd-Jones’ chapters as well as others in this book are effective strategies that can support in attracting, retaining, and advancing women of color in the academy. Finally, the authors of this book seek to enlighten dynamic and critical discussions by and about women of color in the academy. Conceivably the most intriguing part of each chapter is the methodological approaches used to address race, gender, and social justice in the academy. Qualitative methods dominate the chapters, with effective use of personal narratives and participants’ lived experiences. The voices of those often ignored or forgotten are examined, building on the legacy of women of color in the academy who paved the way for this generation and future scholars of color. Moreover, the chapters presented herein challenge assumptions, perspectives, and beliefs about the significance of women of color scholars in the academy. They are provocative and provide direction for future research that advance knowledge and understanding for a better society based on social justice, equity, and equal opportunity. The chapters also give voice to both the shared diverse and common experiences of this group of women scholars of color and provide useful guidance and new perspectives on transforming the world’s academics into more inclusive and equitable environments around the globe (Thomas & Hollenshead, 2001). Ultimately, outcomes from these collections of scholarly discourse may have important implications for effective policy and program practice that raise important questions about institutional commitments that advocate for the advancement of women of color in the academy. References Aguirre, A., Jr. (2000). Issues facing women and minority faculty. Women and minority faculty in the academic workplace: Recruitment and retention, and academies culture. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

xx   C. M. GRANT, G. JEAN-MARIE, and B. J. IRBY Alfred, M. V. (2001). Expanding theories of career development: Adding the voices of African American women in the White academy. Adult Education Quarterly, 51(2) 108-127. Bailey, D., Koney, K. M., McNish, M. E., Powers, R., & Uhly, K. (2008). Sustaining our spirits: Women leaders thriving for today and tomorrow. Washington, DC: NASW Press. Bernal, G., Trimble, J. E., Burlew, A. K., & Leong, F. T. L. (2003). Handbook of racial and ethnic minority psychology (pp. 487–503). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Boyd, C. M. (2009). Living with a purpose: One woman’s journey. In H. Vakalahi & W. Peebles-Wilkins (Eds.), Women of color on the rise: Leadership and administration in social work education and the academy (pp. 119-136). New York, NY: Columbia University Press. Carlton-LaNey, I. (Ed.). (2001). African American leadership in social work history: An empowerment tradition. Washington, DC: National Association of Social Workers Press. Collins, P. (2000). Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment. New York, NY: Routledge. Collins, P. H. (2002). Learning from the outsider within: The sociological significance of Black feminist thought. In C. S. Turner, A. L. Antonio, M. Garcia, B. V. Laden, A. Nora, & C. Presley (Eds.), Racial and ethnic diversity in higher education. Boston, MA: Person Custom. Cox, T., & Nkomo, S. (1990). Invisible men and women: A status report on race as a variable in organization behavior research. Journal of Organizational Behavior, 11(6), 419-431. Dillard, C. (1995). Leading with her life: An African American feminist (re)interpretation of leadership for an urban high school principal. Educational Administration Quarterly, 31(4), 539-563. Dixon-Reeves, R. (2003). Mentoring as a precursor to incorporation: An assessment of the mentoring experience of recently minted Ph.D.s. Journal of Black Studies, 34(1), 12-27. Gibson, S. K. (2006). Mentoring of women faculty: The role of organizational politics andculture. Innovative Higher Education, 31(1), 63-79. Glazer-Raymo, J. (1999). Shattering the myths: Women in academe. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Glazer-Raymo, J. (Ed.). (2008). Unfinished agendas: New and continuing gender challenges in higher education. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Grant, C. (2012). Advancing our legacy: A black feminist perspective on the significance of mentoring for African-American women in educational leadership. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education (Special Issue), 25(1), 99-115. Grant, C., & Simmons, J. (2008). Narratives on experiences of African American women in the academy: Conceptualizing effective mentoring relationships of doctoral student and faculty. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education (Special Issue), 21(5), 501-517. Harley, D. A. (2008). Maids of academe: African American women faculty at predominantly white institutions. Journal of African American Studies, 12(1), 19-36.

Introduction  xxi hooks, b. (1990). Choosing the margin as a space of radical openness. In B. hooks (Eds.), In yearnings: Race gender and cultural politics. Boston, MA: South End Press. Irby, B. J. (2012). From mentoring synergy to synergisti mentoring. Mentoring & Tutoring: Partnership in Learning, 20(2), 175-179. Jacobi, M. (1991). Mentoring and undergraduate success: A literature review. Review of Educational Research, 61(4), 505-532. James, J., & Farmer, R. (Ed.). (1993). Spirit, space & survival: African American women in white academe. New York, NY: Routledge. Jean-Marie, G. (2005). Standing on the promises: The experiences of Black women administrators in historically black institutions. Advancing Women in Leadership Online Journal, 19. Retrieved from http://www.advancingwomen.

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Jean-Marie, G., & Brooks, J. (2011). Mentoring and supportive networks for women of color in academe. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Contemporary perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10, pp. 91107). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011a). Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011b). Women of color in higher education: Contemporary perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10). Bingley, UK: Emer-

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Lloyd-Jones, B. (2011). Examining the “present” status of women of color. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (pp. xxi-xxvii). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Mackey, H. J. (2011). Identity and research: Exploring themes of scholarship of an American Indian scholar in the academy. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9, pp. 291-305). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. McDemmond, M. (1999). On the outside looking in. In W. B. Harvey (Ed.), Grass roots and glass ceilings: African American administrators in predominantly white colleges and universities (pp. 71-82). Ithica, NY: SUNY Press. Merriam, S. B. (1998). Qualitative research and case study applications in education. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Miller, F. S. (2010). Untangling the Ivy Vines: A perspective on women of color in higher education. In R. G. Johnson III & G. L. A. Harris (Eds.), Women of color in leadership: Taking their rightful place (pp. 3-122). San Diego, CA: Birkdale. Nuñez, A. M., & Murakami-Ramalho, E. (2011). Advocacy in the hyphen: Perspectives from junior faculty at a Hispanic-Serving Institution. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (pp.171-194). Bingley, UK: Emerald Press. Patton, M. Q. (2002). Qualitative research and evaluation methods (3rd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Press, B. (2011). I am because we are: African wisdom in image and Proverb. Hattiesburg, MS: Books for Africa. Retrived from www.africanwisdominimageandproverb .com.

xxii   C. M. GRANT, G. JEAN-MARIE, and B. J. IRBY Raheim, S. (2009). Writing my own story. In H. Vakalahi & W. Peebles-Wilkins (Eds.), Women of color on the rise: Leadership and administration in social work education and the academy (pp. 77-96). New York, NY: Columbia University Press. Reyes, M., & Ha icon, J. J. (1988, August). Racism in academia: The old wolf revisited. Harvard Educational Review, 58(3) 299-314. Ryu, M. (2010). Minorities in higher education 2010: Twenty-fourth status report. Washington, DC: American Council on Education.

Chapter 1

From Chair to Podium A Narrative Experience of an African American Female Emerging Scholar’s Entry into the Academy Cosette M. Grant

Abstract Scant literature currently informs the literature about the relationship between the doctoral preparation of African American female doctoral students for advancement toward tenure-track faculty careers at predominantly White institutions (PWIs) and their transition as new faculty into educational leadership programs at PWIs. Therefore, using a narrative approach (Sutter, 2006), a newly minted African American female tenuretrack faculty in educational leadership shares her doctoral preparation experience and immersion into the professoriate at a PWI. Components of mentoring most attributable to her successful transition from chair to podium are highlighted. Findings are situated in Black feminist thought and link the experience narrative to mentoring benefits for an African American female in educational leadership at a PWI. Strategies are offered to aid doctoral students, particularly African American women, with successful preparation and entry into the academy. The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages 1–29 Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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Introduction Few African American faculty are represented in predominantly White Institutions (PWIs). Prior to the 1960s, the small number of African American faculty in PWIs is due to “undeniably deliberate exclusionary practices” (Jackson, 1991, p. 135). African Americans are mostly excluded from faculty positions in academia and marginalized in academe in general. Little has changed in recent years, yet they have traversed many historic and systemic barriers while balancing their dual role as scholar and social agent in order to rise above challenges in the academy. The lived experiences of African American women reflect an ongoing struggle for inclusion (Grant, 2012; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a, 2011b). It is evident that PWIs are still perceived by African American women to be “Ivory Towers,” as the entrenched structures and culture fail to recognize or value their contributions to society (Henry, 1994). Notwithstanding the myriad of historical challenges of African American women in the academy, African American women are resilient and have been able to make great strides toward attaining their rightful place within academia (Gregory, 2001). Concurrently, African American female doctoral students are vastly underrepresented in PWIs in the United States (Grant & Simmons, 2008). As such, negative stereotypes and disparities continue to persist, creating major barriers for African American women as they attempt to gain entry and equity in PWI settings (Grant, 2012). Underrepresentation has not been the only drawback. Previous research has indicated that African American women in the academy often feel marginalized and socially isolated, which in turn can adversely affect their acclimation and performance in academic institutions (Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a, 2011b; Patitu & Hinton, 2003). Further, researchers have documented a multitude of barriers encountered by Black female doctoral students and faculty at PWIs (Bonner & Thomas, 2001; Gordon, 2004; Gregory, 2001; Henderson, 2005; Hughes & Howard-Hamilton, 2003; Nichols & Tanksley, 2004; Simpson, 2001; Thomas & Hollenshead, 2001). More specifically, several researchers have reported findings of discrimination related to both race and gender (Zamani, 2003), lack of support systems and networks (Patton & Harper, 2003), and unwelcoming, insensitive, and isolative environments (Watt, 2003). Underlying and propagating these repressive circumstances are universally interdependent obstructions of institutional racism and the lack of a critical mass at PWIs (Bagihole, 1994; Henry, Thompson, & Richards, 2006). African American women are particularly faced with a multitude of “conscious, unconscious, verbal, nonverbal and visual forms of insults [that] are typically directed toward people of color,

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known as micro-aggressions” (Howard-Hamilton, 2003, p. 23). Moreover, this lack of a critical mass at PWIs leaves African American women often times trudging through obstacles they are made to face alone. Academicians, however, need to grapple with and articulate the passionate commitment that propels African American women in academe despite their struggles (Grant, 2012). Although factors that influence the attraction, retention, and orientation of African American women into the academy continue to be underresearched, resulting in limited or nonexistent policies that advocate for the advancement of African American women into academia. However, African American women are clearly transforming the academy and being transformed at the same time. As more African American women enter the professoriate, they are evaluating, clashing with, and challenging old practices while articulating and establishing new ones (James & Farmer, 1993). To do so effectively, these women are best served by a network of mentors (Baugh & Scandura, 1999; Higgins & Kram, 2001) who can facilitate their development of career competencies, help them understand the rules of the game for progressive scholarship, and transform the normalized construction of academic environments that are sometimes exclusionary (Tillman, 2001; Young & Brooks, 2008). Mentoring networks are vital support structures in a successful academic career, as emerging scholars seek to navigate the complex and protean racial and gender dynamics of academic institutions (Sorcinelli & Yun, 2007). My study supports scholars (Dixon-Reeves, 2002; Jackson, Kite & Branscombe, 1996; Tillman 2001) who have identified same sex/race mentoring as effective mentoring strategies in African American women in academe success. This study also aligns with Grant and Simmons (2008) and Jean-Marie and Brooks (2011) who argued that not only are samesex mentoring relationships important to the advancement of African American women in PWIs, but cross-cultural, interracial, and crossgender mentor relationships are equally beneficial. Grant and Simmons (2008) further argued for a comprehensive model that includes all of these elements, hence challenging traditional perspectives of effective mentoring. In particular, “same-sex, same-race, university-supported Black faculty organizations, combined with non-Black mentors desirous of mentoring African American female academicians are most effective” to their entry to and advancement in PWIs (Grant & Simmons, 2008, p. 510). However, researchers’ with their empirical studies in educational environments have provided limited data for the connections between mentoring and the advancement of African American female doctoral students aspiring toward faculty careers in PWIs and their consequent acclimation, particularly in educational leadership (Beckham, 1987-1988; Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Tillman 2001). This has left a void

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in understanding the significance of mentoring in the doctoral preparation of African American female doctoral students for the professoriate, making it difficult to refer to any specific mentoring strategies used to facilitate successful entry, hence posturing African American women faculty for advancement in PWIs. Therefore, this chapter reflects combined constructs closely connected with the nature of preparation experiences of African American female doctoral students in educational leadership for successful entry into the professoriate at PWIs and their consequent transition experiences. Beginning with a literature review, a range of matters that speak to the needs and challenges of African American women in the academy at PWIs is addressed, and a review of current research on African American women in the academy is included. In this auto-ethnic narrative case study, I detail my doctoral preparation experiences as a doctoral student in educational leadership at a PWI and successful entry into the professoriate at a PWI despite improbability. Therefore, my intent in this chapter is to disclose and make explicit factors most attributable to this successful transition from my personal perspective. I conclude with a discussion and offer recommendations/strategies for advancing African American women scholars in the academy. In addition, the words “African American” and “Black” will be used interchangeably throughout the chapter in order to include Black women who are African American, as well as those who are immigrants or descendants of immigrants from locations representing the Caribbean states, Caribbean islands, Central America, Pacific Islands, South America, the continent of Africa, and Cuba. The term “women of color” in my study refers to Black women as well as all women raced outside of Whiteness (Haney Lopez, 1998) as ethnic, including American Indian, Asian Pacific Island, and Latina women in the United States. Literature Review The issues and obstacles faced by women of color that impede their full engagement, participation, and contribution to the academy are outstanding issues that have yet to be fully recognized, addressed, and hence resolved. This concept is nothing new (Elman, 1991). Moreover, women faculty of color at PWIs, in particular, African American women, often experience the lack of institutional support, which affects hiring, retention, mentoring relationships, and advancement (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Turner, 2002). Such environments are isolating and hostile for these women and tend to interfere with their academic productivity and sense of well-being (Antonio, 2002; Olsen, Maple, & Stage, 1995; Turner, 2002).

From Chair to Podium   5

Mentoring is an operational stratagem to thwart this problem. However, there is a lack of a unifying conceptual framework to guide completion success or measure effective mentoring outcomes for African American women in educational leadership at PWIs (Grant, 2012). Acknowledging these challenges, traditional components of mentoring (Jacobi, 1991), as well as nontraditional factors aimed at advancing African American female doctoral students and faculty in PWIs (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Jean-Marie & Brooks, 2011; Tillman, 2001) will be viewed critically through my lens, as the author researcher, in relation to African American women entry and advancement in the academy. In my study, traditional mentoring approaches refer to Jacobi’s (1991) mentoring components: role modeling, psychosocial function, and professional development that are said to be effective in the success of doctoral students of color in higher education environments. And nontraditional mentoring denotes a combination related by Tillman (2001) that mentoring exists to provide graduate students of color with structured interaction that enhances the probability of degree program completion and career success, and Tillman’s description: “a method to facilitate the professional growth and development of African American faculty and to increase their representation in predominantly White institutions” (p. 295). In this regard, same sex/same race, in particular, is viewed as effective mentoring for African American women in PWIs (Tillman, 2001). Cross-race and gender mentoring are also argued as effective strategies that aid in African American female students and faculty advancement in educational leadership at PWIs (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Jean-Marie & Brooks, 2011). Mentoring Benefits for African American New Faculty Mentoring is an important aspect of the training and development of new professionals (Blackburn, Chapman & Cameron, 1981). As it relates to new faculty, Blackshire-Belay (1998) indicated that “mentoring new faculty members can make or break their academic career” (p. 33). This claim is further supported by scholars Alexander-Snow and Johnson (1999), who asserted that mentoring is particularly beneficial to new faculty of color. Specifically identified benefits of mentoring include faculty becoming more rapidly socialized to their respective campuses and improved teaching evaluations when compared with faculty who were not mentored (Boice, 1992). Blackwell (1989) believed mentoring can directly influence the pipeline for increasing faculty of color, especially African Americans. Tillman (2001) also suggested that mentoring, whether formal or informal, should be considered an effective strategy for assisting in the

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professional development and growth of African American faculty and in achieving diversity in the professoriate at PWIs.

Mentoring African American Women in PWIs Mentoring is an elusive construct (Allen & Eby, 2007). Despite a large body of research developed that has yielded insight into many aspects of the mentoring process, the struggle to define the term remains (Applebaum, Ritchie, & Shapiro, 1994; Friday, Friday, & Green, 2004; Garvey, 2004; Gibb, 2003; Jacobi, 1991). Notwithstanding these issues, it is possible to identify several attributes of mentoring that provide contextualization for understanding mentoring as it pertains to African American women scholars in the academy (Allen & Eby, 2007). According to Irby (2012), “Mentoring is generally long lasting and involves a shared relationship” (p. 297). Mentoring reflects a unique relationship between individuals (Austin, 2002; Garvey & Alred, 2003; Jacobi, 1991). Additionally, there is a focus on the deeper development of the individual being mentored. No two mentorships are the same; distinct interpersonal exchanges and idiosyncratic interaction patterns define and shape the relationship. Some mentoring relationships can be life altering, whereas others may be superficial, short-lived, or even destructive (Eby, McManus, Simon, & Russell, 2000; Grossman & Rhodes, 2002; Levinson et al., 1978; Rhodes, 2000). Mentoring is a learning partnership (Garvey & Alred, 2003; Jacobi, 1991; Peper, 1994). Although the goals of the mentoring relationship may differ across settings and relationships, nearly all mentorships involve the acquisition of knowledge. Mentoring is a process, defined by the types of support provided by the mentor to the protégé (Jacobi, 1991; Kram, 1985), broadly classified as emotional or psychosocial or career-related (Jacobi, 1991; Kram, 1985). Mentoring is reciprocal, although the mentor may benefit from the relationship. The primary goal is protégé growth and development (Jacobi, 1991; Kram, 1985; Levinson et al., 1978). Mentoring relationships are dynamic—they change over time (Garvey & Alred, 2003; Kram, 1985), and the impact of mentoring increases with the passage of time (Grossman & Rhodes, 2002; Kram, 1985). The traditional nature of mentoring relationships suggests that faculty members are more inclined to mentor junior faculty who are like themselves (Tillman, 2001). Mentors are more likely to select mentees who share the same ethnic, religious, academic, gender, and/or social backgrounds. Given this, African Americans, much less African American female faculty in PWIs, are not likely to be mentored because they will more than likely reside in departments with few, if any other, African Americans (Tillman, 2001).

From Chair to Podium   7

Although there is an increase in literature on mentoring, few (if any) traditional mentoring models identify specific standards and components of mentoring for African American women scholars in PWIs, including those in educational leadership programs. Traditional interpretations of mentoring have been challenged by a number of scholars (Darwin, 2000; Harris 1999; Kochan & Trimble 2000). Darwin (2000) purported, “Traditionally, the mentoring relationship has been framed in a language of paternalism and dependence and stems from a power-depended, hierarchical relationship, aimed at maintaining the status quo” (p. 197). Harris (1999) asserted, “By limiting the examination of mentoring based on one universal definition, the personal, complex nature of the mentoring experience by under-represented groups, who do not fit into a maleoriented, competitive, individualist profile, will be excluded” (p. 230).

Needs and Challenges of African American Women in PWIs The experiences of African American female doctoral students and faculty in educational leadership at PWIs have not been well documented in the research literature (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008). However, what we do know about their needs and experiences is sparse, tends to focus on isolated factors, and lacks coherent conceptual frameworks. Not only are there few studies of African American women in the academy, but also little work directly addresses the question of specific experiences that attract or deter African American female doctoral students, in particular, from seeking academic careers (Jacobi, 1991; Noe, 1988; Thompson & Dey, 1998; Wheeler, 1992; Wiley, 1992) and entering the professoriate (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008). Some researchers have found the negative intersection of race and gender (Crenshaw, 1990; Moses 1989; Turner & Thompson 1993) as an explanation for African American women (i.e., doctoral students and faculty) in PWIs receiving less mentoring support compared with their White female counterparts. They require successful persons for whom they can identify with in order to succeed academically (Oestereichen 1987; Wiley 1989). Still, empirical evidence from academe regarding the mentoring of African Americans remains limited, and few known models have been designed to aid university administrators in their efforts to better attract, retain, graduate, hire, and support African American women scholars at PWIs. This omission is of particular concern to this study because the needs of African American female academicians are believed to be the result of decades of sociohistorical factors. Persistent underrepresentation and inferior success rates of African American women in PWIs might suggest that these women continue to encounter barriers and challenges that possibly serve as impediments to their completion and promotion rates in PWIs (Grant & Simmons, 2008).

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What has been reflected in recent data regarding African American women—doctoral students and faculty in PWIs—is that concerns sometimes arise at the point of entry into their doctoral program. Many of these issues follow them into their careers as professors. They encounter inequity, unfair treatment, misjudgment, isolation, and marginality in PWIs. Their intellectual capabilities are often doubted, and their research interests are often questioned or neglected (Gay, 2004; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011; Tillman, 2001). As aforementioned, they often find it difficult to locate suitable mentors within their departments to help overcome these challenges. For African American female doctoral students in PWIs, access to ethnic role models and mentors is limited (James & Farmer, 1993; Tillman, 2001). Because of the low numbers of African American female faculty, especially tenured faculty, in educational leadership departments, African American female doctoral students and African American female faculty new hires are at an obvious disadvantage (Grant & Simmons, 2008). These types of organizational constraints often make it difficult for individuals to engage in developmental relationships (Kram, 1985) that enhance tenure and promotion, for example. This especially holds true for African American female faculty in PWIs. To that end, mentoring as described earlier is particularly important to doctoral preparation for entry into the professoriate because emerging scholars who intend to excel have the opportunity to make connections and learn how to successfully maneuver within educational leadership arenas, for example, can succeed (Grant, 2012). Mentoring support for African American female doctoral students at PWIs is arguably a critical factor for advancement toward the professoriate. Mentoring relationships are vital to the facilitation of successful experiences for African American doctoral students that can lead to career faculty attainment in educational leadership at PWIs. For example, Dixon-Reeves (2003) examined the experiences of recently minted African American PhD recipients in the field of sociology and found that recent degree earners reported receiving more mentoring that resulted in career enhancement. Further, mentoring has a direct influence on the entry, promotion, and tenure success of African American females in educational leadership at PWIs (Grant & Simmons, 2008). Although the study is not generalized, Grant and Simmons’s (2008) study claims that mentoring is most essential to the advancement success of African American female doctoral students in educational leadership in PWIs who are interested in the professoriate at PWIs. African American female doctoral students who establish mentoring relationships experience career-related benefits (Crawford & Smith, 2005).

From Chair to Podium   9

Method and Design The story being presented here is rooted in the scholarly personal narrative methodology. Using a narrative approach (Sutter, 2006) similar to “life story research design” (Simmons, 2007), I share my experience as an emerging African American female scholar in educational leadership (e.g., experiences in obtaining my doctorate and transitioning to the professoriate in a PWI). This methodological approach “articulates the experiences and qualities within a manner that is accurate, relevant, and compelling as determined by those who are familiar with it” (Sutter, 2006, p. 320). Empirical data are used to indicate how social capital networks can support one to successfully matriculate from doctoral student to the academy. Concurrent with Merriam (1998), this study is descriptive and inductive because it builds abstractions, concepts, theory, and hypotheses from details. The researcher is the primary instrument for collecting and analyzing data. I am “interested in illustrating meaning—how people make sense of their experiences” (Merriam, 1998, p. 19). Scholarly personal narrative, which has also been labeled autoethnography, or personal experience narratives, is also used in this research to “use your life experience to generalize to a larger group or culture” (Ellis & Bochner, 2000, p. 737). It is a form of self-study research, the aim of which “is to provoke, challenge, and illuminate rather than confirm and settle” (Bullough & Pinnegar, 2001, p. 20). This methodology utilizes the author’s life experiences along with academic research to support the argument or questions being posed. It is situated in Black feminist thought, which accepts and encourages researchers to situate themselves within their scholarship (Behar, 1996; Collins, 2000). In this case, the methodology allows me to use my own narrative about doctoral preparation for advancement toward the professoriate as well as my experiences thus far as a newly minted faculty member in the academy in order to examine something larger than my individual story. This personal narrative approach is particularly well suited for documenting African American women’s stories because the methodology models education as a practice of freedom. As Nash (2004) notes, scholarly personal narrative allows those who “have been traditionally underrepresented, marginalized, and disenfranchised in higher education … an opportunity to tell their personal stories in formal scholarly writing … to challenge and question the dominant white, male, Western research ethos in the university” (p. 3). Telling the story of my doctoral preparation experience and transition into academe in a PWI through scholarly personal narrative can offer insights and solutions on ways to increase African American women faculty in PWIs (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Peters, 2011; Shealey, Watson, & Qian, 2011). My hope is that my

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narrative as student and now professor provokes new ways of thinking about supporting current and future African American female faculty, challenges the status quo, and illuminates the research that already exists on African American women in the academy. Black Feminist Thought Elements of Black feminist thought (BFT) were incorporated into the study to better understand the challenges of a former African American female doctoral student’s doctoral preparation experiences for transition into an educational leadership faculty position in a PWI. BFT is grounded in ways that differentiate the experiences of African American women in PWI settings. BFT draws on a body of knowledge that sets forth the idea that the daily living of Black women has produced a collective consciousness that resists being defined as “less than,” resists negative stereotyping, while seeking to define and empower its members by encouraging Black women to celebrate their survival as a significant phenomenon. This theoretical framework considers race, gender, and social class simultaneously (Williams, 1988; Zinn, 1989). The lack of detailed experiences and accounts of African American women faculty at PWIs inspired the use of this framework (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008). Further, BFT was employed to examine the components of mentoring that are empowering and successful to an African American female doctoral student in educational leadership preparation success for entry into the professoriate in a PWI. It was also used to foreground an educational infrastructure that more often than not discounts gender, race, and class consideration of African American women experiences in PWIs. Because of its focus on the diversity of Black women’s experiences, BFT provides a comprehensive theoretical lens for examining the connection of mentoring to the doctoral completion of African American female doctoral students in educational leadership at separate PWIs. Furthermore, this study provides analysis of the salience and utility of Black feminist thought in mentoring research on African American female doctoral students in educational leadership at PWIs. Data Collection and Analysis Data collection in this study occurred in multiple ways (i.e., document reviews, self-observation, and reflexive journaling). This method can encourage the researcher to develop a report that is both “accurate and credible” (Creswell, 2002, p. 280). Literature and personal documents—

From Chair to Podium   11

such as acceptance and offer letters, electronic and written correspondence from colleagues and students in the college unit and department, student evaluations, academic papers, and published and unpublished scholarship—were reviewed. Personal documents refer to any personal narratives that describe individual “actions, experiences, and beliefs” (Bogdan & Biklen, 2007, p. 133) used to interrogate narratives about the lives and mentoring experiences as an African American academician allowed for “questions regarding what can be learned from a single case” (Stake, 1994, p. 236). Reflexive journaling involves critical reflection on how the researcher, research participants, setting, and phenomenon of interest interact and influence each other. This includes “examining one’s personal and theoretical commitments to see how they serve as resources for generating particular data, for behaving in particular ways … and for developing particular interpretations” (Schwandt, 1997, p. 136). Through reflexive thought, the researcher puts even more into self as “part of the setting, context, and social phenomenon, he or she seeks to understand” (Schwandt, 1997, p. 136). It also demonstrates how awareness of subjectivity contributes to a greater understanding of self and one’s own psychological investment in their research (Glesne, 2006, p. 109). Prior to this study, I kept a reflexive journal that included my personal reflections about the doctoral program, entry into the professoriate and the apprenticeship programs, my experiences and reflections overall in my doctoral preparation experience for the professoriate, and additional thoughts about the experiences of doctoral students of color operating in a PWI. I wrote notes before and after each job interview, which consisted of sidebar notes and comments about each interview. Data were analyzed using “inductive and narrative processes, which called for an ordering of the data set by themes to make meaning the personal experience and contextualized knowledge” (Merriam, 2009, p. 35). Narrative analysis is a salient frame through which individuals categorize and make meaning of their experiences (Schwandt, 1994). Thus, meaning is constructed, understood, and expressed in story form. Analysis was also situated within Grant and Simmons’s (2008) work on effective mentoring relationships and strategies (same race, same sex, same gender, crosscultural, cross-gender) for preparing African American female doctoral students for entry in the professoriate in educational leadership at PWIs. The study is auto-ethnographic in that it centers on the author’s sociocultural experiences to understand how they informed her research interests in the academy. Data sources reflect occurrences between 2005 and 2011.

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Narrative/Findings Having parents with advanced degrees, I was encouraged, expected, and determined to pursue a terminal degree. I am a multigenerational college graduate on both sides of my family. I attended a Historically Black College and University (HBCU) for undergraduate studies. I attended a PWI for my doctoral studies, and the student racial demographics of the campus at the time was 78.4% White and 13.3% students of color, including 5% African American. As a student in the educational leadership program, my doctoral program was made up of a cohort of doctoral students who were principals, teachers, educational consultants, curriculum coaches, and/or higher education administrators. The racial dynamics of students in my doctoral program, a cohort of 20 students, was 70% White and 30% African American, 20% of whom were African American females. Females represent 30% of the faculty, and there were seven Black professors in the educational leadership department, and the Dean was also an African American female. Developing an Interest in Academia My motivation for wanting to become a faculty member in educational leadership at a PWI is multipronged. When I reflected on my secondary education experiences, I noticed the lack of diverse representation of teachers and principals in relation to the population of students reflected in the classroom, and I believed that my efforts to be present in the academy would help make an impact on diversity in educational leadership. I also noticed the lack of a critical mass in my graduate studies, which prompted a curiosity and desire to diversify the professoriate and help influence the development of educational leaders of color. Upon entering my doctoral program, I was not interested in the professoriate but rather consulting in schools or working in a foundation that advocates for enhanced educational opportunities for underserved populations. However, the exposure to African American practitioners and scholars and structured mentoring support from a large network of African American professors in educational leadership increased my desire to prepare for the professoriate and enter the academy Preparing for Entry Into a PWI My preparation for the academy came directly from the mentoring experiences from faculty within and outside of my doctoral program.

From Chair to Podium   13

Collaborating with a mentor on a publication, the encouragement and opportunity to publish in a peer-reviewed journal, and presenting peerreviewed papers at national conferences were structured mentoring activities that prepared me well for the academy. The actual course work and discussions around the work did not prepare me well. My peers were not interested in research or entering the professoriate, and therefore the class discussions centered on students pursuing degrees in order to advance as superintendents, central office administrators, or principals. Therefore, I had to seek relationships with faculty interested in advising and mentoring me toward preparation for the academy. I recall many conversations with the faculty regarding preparing for and succeeding in academe: “Learn how to say no to too much service upon entering the academy, they will ask you to serve on loads of committees and since you are African American and female, you will get overburdened with requests to serve on committees that require diverse representation— like search committees, for example,” “But focus on publishing,” and “Work with students, mentor students, help prepare students just as I am working with, mentoring and preparing you.” I received some on-the-job training to co-facilitate two courses with a professor. This experience offered me with a glimpse of what to expect in a typical classroom of students. It also enhanced my teaching skills prior to entering the professoriate full time. These skills also helped make me an attractive candidate for the professoriate. My mentors encouraged me to pursue teaching assistantships, where I had the chance to teach on my own; however, resources and opportunities were not afforded to me. I was provided with an adjunct opportunity outside of the field of educational leadership, and additionally I landed an instructor position outside of my academic institution. I relied heavily on those experiences to better prepare me for teaching at a PWI. In a co-teaching capacity, “I had the chance to observe first hand, my professor manage the classroom, respond to criticisms from students, structure lectures, and to set up assignment and grading structures and also drew upon my experiences as a graduate student and how my graduate department operated.” Experiences of Isolation in a Predominantly White Advisory Group My doctoral program functioned in a cohort model, whereby students were situated in a group learning setting. My advisory group was comprised of four White (three male, one female) students and me as the only African American member of the group. Prior to the group assignments, we spent one week in an outdoor camp and participated in team-building exercises

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and one week back in the class room in a seminar that focused on group dynamics in a cohort-structured doctoral program. Immediately upon the group formation, a white male peer in the group indicated, “You have a strong personality and so do I. What are you going to do about it?” He further shared that he foresaw it as a potential group problem. The others in the group chimed in with agreement and expected a response. I responded, “I don’t know what you are going to do about your strong personality, but I am who I am and don’t plan to change.” My reaction pushed beyond the mainstream boundaries, and I immediately became labeled a problem, radical, and nonconforming. Some members of the advisory group even went to another African American female and male in the cohort, who in my opinion had compromised their identity in order to fit in with the mainstream. These two African American peers were asked how to deal with me. When it came to group meetings and activities outside of the classroom structure, I was often excluded from meetings and would not receive information about group plans and activities. I often had to press for information in order to know group plans and made efforts to contribute on group activities. When I did speak, my comments were dismissed and often ignored. I was labeled as “out of control” and “the angry Black woman” who lacked communication skills. As a result, the group became a “me against them” scenario as a means of putting me in my place by the mainstream (Mills & Simmons, 1995). These were a series of isolated incidents throughout my tenure as a doctoral student where I was singled out, isolated from the group, ignored, and often silenced. I encountered a wide array of micro-aggressive indignities (i.e., racist attitudes and behaviors from White counterparts) in my advisory group experiences (Howard-Hamilton, 2003). In this regard, BFT (Collins, 1990, 1998, 2002) recognizes this marginalization, which is the case for many African American women in PWIs, which is sometimes described as the “outsider within status” (Howard-Hamilton, 2003, p. 21), in which African American women have been invited into places where the dominant group has assembled, but they remain outsiders because they are still invisible and have no voice when dialogue commences. I was that “outsider within” the group. Additionally, my research topic was challenged. My proposed research interests focused on critical pedagogy, BFT, and social justice praxis were often questioned and ridiculed, especially within my advisory group. In particular, the White males within my advisory group jokingly referenced me as “Malcolm X like, but in a skirt.” When we had the opportunity to decide on projects as a group, I made suggestions to diversify our work so

From Chair to Podium   15

we could learn about different perspectives and challenges to Educational Leadership, but this notion was met with consistent resistance. I recall in one class, Social and Cultural Change, which focused on social justice discourse, my advisory group wanted me to take the lead on group assignments related to the course: “This class is about race, class and gender, and you would know that subject more than any of us.” These same teammates had previously rejected my leadership on any team project assignments. This was a harsh dose of reality that racism and sexism still persists and the overt hostility. This hostility was expanded beyond the advisory group. I was the topic of conversation among the White students in the class and some of the White professors. Students were so preoccupied with my strong leadership that they used their journaling, which was supposed to reflect on key learning from class lectures and readings, to reflect on their perceptions and experiences with me. Additionally, I was granted no mercy or leniency during my pregnancy either. The hostility, sexism, and racism mounted. For example, five months into my pregnancy, the physical evidence began to show, and I had not shared the news of my pregnancy with the cohort or my advisory group. During the discovery in month five, my entire advisory group went behind my back to the doctoral program co-directors and our faculty advisor and complained that my pregnancy would affect my performance in the class, I should be reassigned to another group, and I should have shared my pregnancy. Surprisingly to me, those complaints were entertained instead of rejected by some of the leadership and faculty in the program. I was questioned and automatically reduced to low expectations, negative stereotypes about my abilities. Not only was I disrespected as an individual, marginalized due to my doctoral research focus, and chastised for refusing to conform, but then I was expected to disclose my personal status in an impersonal setting.

Single Race to the Finish Line I realized that my quest for successful completion of the doctorate would be a single race to the finish line. Because I experienced limited support within my doctoral program regarding my research topic and advancement toward the professoriate, I sought support and advisement outside of the program. As a result of my doctoral development and aim to advance toward the professoriate, it was important to have access to others similarly situated who could validate my experiences. As Harvey and ScottJones (1985) have shared,

16   C. M. GRANT In the absence of a support group, Black faculty members are “often” subjected to the aggravating aspects of the academic milieu without enjoying some of its compensating benefits: contemplation, independence, and social and intellectual stimulation from colleagues sharing the same interests and outlook. (p. 70)

As a result of interactions with African American female peers of similar consequences, I soon learned that I was not alone in my experiences and that it was important to share with others similarly situated and with senior colleagues who understood what I was experiencing. “The use of dialogue” (Collins, 2000) supports the importance of establishing bonds and relationships because oppressive and contentious events are seldom solved in isolation. I also recognized that through sharing, others could relate and provide support and shared strategies of how to overcome negative stereotypes and obstacles experienced traditionally in PWIs. This “ethic of caring” (Collins, 2000, p. 266) allowed for the use of expressiveness, emotion, and empathy as a means for greater understanding of me as an African American woman’s unique experiences in a PWI. Therefore, I began to interact with other African American women in educational leadership aspiring toward the professoriate, attended educational conferences, and participated in an apprenticeship program geared toward the doctoral preparation of doctoral students of color in educational leadership for advancement toward the professoriate— The Barbara L. Jackson Scholars Program. While there I was formally introduced to the concept of mentoring as a form of socialization effective in doctoral preparation and successful advancement toward the professoriate. I became networked with leading scholars of color in the field of educational leadership as well as emerging scholars. Support systems in the lives of African American female doctoral students in PWIs have been found to be important because of these women’s needs for guidance, strength, and encouragement to help them negotiate academic settings that are often unfriendly and isolating (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Tillman, 2001). Mentors also have been found to nurture a sense of belonging for minorities in the profession (Tillman, 2001). Although much debate has ensued about the impact of mentoring on career success for both faculty and students, many studies confirm that mentoring programs can provide greater access to resources for research, advice, and collegial networks, which can often lead to greater academic productivity and a faculty position (Gasman et al., 2008; Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Tillman, 2001).

From Chair to Podium   17

The Importance of Same Sex/Same Race Mentoring Tillman’s (2001) work, although focused on mentoring African American faculty, similarly suggests that commitment to mentoring guidelines should exist at the institutional level as a strategy in preparing doctoral students of color for the professoriate in educational leadership at PWIs, and that the provision and implementation of a mentoring initiative should occur at the departmental level. Tillman further asserted that mentoring initiatives for African American female doctoral students in preparation for the professoriate should include clearly stated purposes and goals as well as structured activities centered on research, teaching, and service, which are growth and development activities that yield successful entry into faculty positions at PWIs. Success in this preparation process could help generate more American female faculty at PWIs longer term and create a larger pool of mentors by which African American female doctoral students could access. For example, I participated in a mentoring program to help prepare me for the professoriate in educational leadership at a PWI. I was provided with a network of mentors and from that developed a formal and informal mentoring relationship that led to publications, peerreviewed presentations at conferences, emotional support, role modeling career advisement, and knowledge of job opportunities, all factors that help advance one toward successful entry into the professoriate (Jacobi, 1991; Tillman, 2001). This is also highly relevant in general to persistence as an African American female doctoral student of the presence of African American female faculty to guide the academic and social development of African American female doctoral students in PWIs (Tillman, 2001). As far as African American professors went in our department, there were both African American male and female professors in the program. The Dean was also African American. The African American professors, including the Dean, were supportive of my research agenda and interest in the professoriate, were regularly accessible to advise and guide me along, and provided open support and encouragement of participation in apprenticeship programs to prepare me for the professoriate in educational leadership. However, the actual steps toward my doctoral preparation for the professoriate was derived from a combination of White and African American faculty within the doctoral program and from outside mentoring support of other African American professors who served as mentors in these apprenticeship programs. I attribute my successful entry into the professoriate as a result of co-teaching opportunities, along with structured mentoring support—presenting peer-reviewed papers at National Conferences, co-authoring with a mentor in a peer-reviewed journal, and networking through mentors at national conferences. In the latter, I was networked over a two-year span with a variety of professors,

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Deans, and Provosts. As a result of my mentoring network, I was endorsed as a viable candidate for a tenure-track faculty position, which led to my hiring success. In particular, one of the professors at the institution where I currently work was introduced to me, and we maintained contact. He consequently invited me to apply for a position, and after two years of pondering relocation, I pursued the opportunity. Surprisingly, although the African American professors from my home institution supported me participating in apprenticeship programs, they provided no direct support to position me for the professoriate (i.e., recommending me for the apprenticeship programs, sharing job leads and endorsements for jobs for which I applied). As far as degree completion from advisement and mentoring from the Dean, she later became my dissertation advisor and was a tremendous support to my finishing my dissertation. Coincidentally, we shared similar research interests. But having the Dean, also an African American female, serve another African American female student became political and had its challenges. I was constantly being watched by the White professors, and there were negative remarks from time to time from faculty and White peers that my dissertation work would be viewed as marginal due to a majority of African American faculty serving on my dissertation committee. Transitioning to the Professoriate at a PWI Despite the challenges I confronted during my doctoral studies, I successfully completed my program, although I was working full time with the intent to transition to the professoriate. I transitioned into the professoriate after working several years in non-profit management, educational consulting, and higher education administration. However, I attribute my successful transition from doctoral student to the professoriate in educational leadership at a PWI to the social networks and mentoring I received outside of my doctoral program. Having a mentor and being advised by faculty in the field enhanced opportunities for job attainment and especially provided important information needed for professional mobility. Although I had more than one mentor, mentors spanned the gamut of gender, profession, discipline, and ethnicity. However, I found that having mentors directly in the field of educational leadership helped the most. I had a White male faculty from my department who was not a mentor but who was an advocate for all alumni. He regularly passed along job announcements and encouraged me to apply to a PWI. Equally, I had African American female tenured professors at PWIs who provided their assessments based on their similar experiences during their doctoral preparation and in serving on search committees. They also shared insights

From Chair to Podium   19

about how to balance research, teaching, and service with family life, and they were instrumental in helping me negotiate my job contract. I benefited from their experience as African American female tenured professors with proven success in navigating the field in PWI settings. Although my overall experience has been positive, there is still some sense of isolation as a new faculty member in a PWI. I am the only African American female in the department; however, there are other African American female professors in the college of education. I have had to be proactive in seeking out tenured African American female professors. Before arriving to my new institution, one African American male professor sought me out and has been helpful in connecting me inside and outside of the university. But I approach this interaction with caution because of the lessons I learned from my doctoral experience. Specifically, I have learned not to place all of my cards on the table and offer no opinions about the internal politics of the department and college. After all, I am new and do not know the history of relationships or norms, or politics of the department and college. My safety net has been playing the new card every time I am at the table engaging with my colleagues. The challenge has been that as a new tenure-track faculty, you are often drawn in and forced to choose a side. However, I have been able to avoid that challenge thus far, and I found it helpful in my transition process to enter with an aggressive scholarly agenda so that my colleagues will take me seriously. For example, during my first department meeting, instead of sharing my summer vacation or child’s extracurricular activities, I discussed my scholarly agenda for progress toward and attainment of tenure and promotion. That approach has worked in part. I am still struggling with being fully accepted as an equal in the department. Students want to refer to me by first name but refer to my White colleagues as “Dr.” On my first day of work, there were two African American female professors, including me, on the elevator dressed in professional attire, along with a White female undergraduate student casually dressed. The student, who was standing closest to the elevator control buttons, said, “Push floor 4 please.” As I navigated the halls that day, depending on attire, I was often asked, “Are you a student aid or a student?” I was never asked, “Are you a professor?” In another incidence in my first semester, during a national conference, some of my White colleagues were in attendance. We made plans to connect at the conference; however, when they saw me several times during the conference, they looked the other way as if I were invisible. Several times, we were at a table or a seat away from one another, but yet they made no acknowledgment. These same colleagues voted me into the department to be part of the team and invited me to coffee inside the walls (institution), but outside of the walls, I was invisible and nonexistent. Upon returning from the conference, I received several

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emails indicating the following: “I hope you enjoyed the conference … it was good seeing you,” although I was not acknowledged by them while attending the same conference. Of course, I am taking a risk in sharing this publicly in the hopes that others dealing with similar circumstances do not personalize those behaviors and progress forward with what you were hired to do—publish, teach, and serve! Focusing on Publishing As the only African American female in the department, I have been the recipient of many requests to serve on search committees as it is a requirement to have diverse representation on these committee types. This type of service can be a deterrent toward tenure. The number one priority is to publish consistently. If you are spending too much time serving and less time publishing, then it will be hard to justify tenure. Mentoring from other faculty outside the department has helped me realized this dynamic. You can easily get sucked in without any advisement from within, and in turn you can fail. Challenges to Serving Students Working with students is important. I have found as the only African American female professor and junior faculty in the department, I am overwhelmed with requests by students of color, particularly African American graduate students, to serve on dissertation committees. This level of service and commitment, once again, is another detractor from the prize, which is tenure as a result of publication success. I have been challenged with having to communicate to students my ability or lack thereof to chair a dissertation while convincing faculty/peers to support my decisions as I am focused on publication for the purpose of tenure attainment. Discussion of Findings In discussing my socialization experiences within my degree program, in particular negative faculty behavior that served to marginalize, for example, faculty members not acknowledging me outside of the classroom (these are faculty who were my professors), and faculty members who were unsupportive of my research and within my faculty position, faculty peers not acknowledging me in public and outside of the office area are behaviors tied into the larger context of scholarship (Gasman, Hirschfeld,

From Chair to Podium   21

& Vultaggio, 2008) on impediments to student-faculty relationships that can help students socialize better within their programs, hence achieve degree completion and advance African Americans into faculty positions. This characterizes an encoded system of behavior that underscores a historical legacy of exclusion that affects the development of positive student-faculty relationships and serves to continually marginalize African American doctoral students. The responses included herein suggest that successful African American doctoral students can interpret encoded systems of behavior that facilitate that disconnection in an effort to identify aspects of the process that will facilitate degree completion. Institutional transformation that includes the valuing different student belief systems as an academic priority could serve to revitalize encoded systems that inhibit an appreciation for student experience and cultural difference (Gasman et al., 2008; Harper & Hurtado, 2007). Faculty diversity was an important socialization factor to my doctoral preparation as an African American female. While these faculty members were small in number at this institution, their presence and accessibility were comforting. However, having access to an African American female advisor and mentor helped in the degree completion success. Additionally, mentoring relationships with other African American female faculty outside of the university was most helpful to acquiring a tenure-track faculty position, and both situations confirm Tillman’s (2001) work on the contribution of same-sex, same-race mentoring on degree completion and faculty position attainment. Moreover, previous research has indicated that African American students tend to feel isolated and marginalized at PWIs (Gasman et al., 2004), so faculty members who work to combat these issues can serve to transcend barriers to success. Implicit in my statements about faculty mentoring is the fact that collaboration is essential to developing a professional and scholarly network, thus shaping one’s disciplinary identity. As a new scholar emerges from the ranks of doctoral candidacy to the role of becoming an expert in a field of study, connections with other scholars with similar interests are integral to the development of a professional and disciplinary identity (Margolis & Romero, 1998). Empirical data were used to indicate how social capital networks can support one to successfully matriculate from doctoral students to the academy. Generally, the belief systems represented here indicate that faculty advisement and mentoring received did serve to facilitate socialization. For example, it is clearly apparent in the aforementioned reflections that I was socialized at conferences with other African American women and academicians who had similar research interests. In turn, they were able to advise me toward degree completion success and professorial opportunities. Therefore, this study is relevant to people of color because it

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offers social networking strategies to aid in the advancement of an African American female doctoral student to successful tenure-track advancement in the academy. Faculty advisement and mentoring is consistently mentioned regarding my doctoral persistence as an African American female in a PWI. This consistency can be found in the literature. For example, Nettles (1990) asserts, “Mentoring may be such a vital and essential part of doctoral education that all persisting students, regardless of their demographic and educational backgrounds, have similar experiences” (p. 10). Similarly, Willie, Grady, and Hope (1991) state, “Their [mentors] presence is essential in helping African Americans and other minority scholars through periods of doubt and indecision” (p. 67). More research is needed regarding the role of mentoring and its impact on the African American doctoral degree completion and consequent advancement into the professoriate. The perceptions herein are unique as they are retrospective in nature and rest on a certainty of knowledge regarding African American degree completion and the positive and negative aspects of social capital that shape success. Given what little information exists regarding African American doctoral student persistence, understanding African American women experiences not only in doctoral preparation and transference into the academy should not be left to chance and should be fully explored within the context of success. Although my experience as a new African American female faculty in educational leadership at a PWI may differ, numerous similarities apparently exist. For example, Gregory’s (2001) study reported that African American female faculty had experienced both the pleasures as well as the harsh realities of academic life. For many, attaining the height of their professional success in the academy was credited to their ability to manage role sets and adapt to a multitude of responsibilities and behaviors. Doing so, however, represented some compromises particularly for African American female faculty functioning in PWIs. As the research has revealed, despite many challenges, as an African American female, I have managed to survive and achieve in academe by employing a number of creative strategies to overcome obstacles (Gregory, 2001). Some of these social networking strategies that yield the successful transition from chair to podium have included: • Learning how to ask questions and not come with all answers at the onset of the job, all the while listening more than speaking; • Learning how to say “no” to too much service request when saying “yes” would detract from one’s research; • Learning how to be proactive in volunteering on committees and checking in regularly with leadership so they are never questioning

From Chair to Podium   23

• • • • • • •

what you are doing, all the while communicating regularly through email or in passing about your scholarship; Identifying early on though observation who you can trust and who you should avoid; Learning how to network with relevant actors that is mutually beneficial—within the department, university, and community at large; Finding a mentor in one’s field of expertise with whom one can feel comfortable and share common interests and who can advise you on promotion and tenure success; Building a coalition among colleagues in and outside of one’s department and institution for the purpose of seeking advice, sharing information, and collaborating; Making oneself visible and active in the department, college, university and one’s communities; Learning how to succeed quietly to facilitate and being seen as a team player rather than as a threat or troublemaker to one’s peers; and Focusing on your primary purpose—scholarship, teaching, and service and disallowing anyone or anything to compete with that focus. Conclusion

In summary, the findings from this study demonstrated how critical social capital is for advancing African American female doctoral students toward the professoriate. First, African American female doctoral students in educational leadership who attend a PWI have a series of unique experiences that have a direct impact on their successful entry into the professoriate. Second, entry into the professoriate was aided by social functions, such as mentoring relationships and advisement from primarily African American female academicians. Also this study points to outcomes that can be addressed in future research and efforts to strengthen the socialization process and university policies for African American female doctoral students and faculty in educational leadership at PWIs. The exploration of the student-faculty relationship at the doctoral level is a process that will continue to develop and evolve. The understanding of this relationship can assist faculty, administrators, and students in highlighting the nuances of culturally and institutionally specific experiences and the most effective mentoring practices. Further examination of this relationship can also serve to illuminate best practice strategies in the preparation of future and junior faculty members who hopefully will mentor future doctoral students.

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From Chair to Podium   25 Collins, P. H. (2002). Learning from the outsider within: The sociological significance of Black feminist thought. In C. S. Turner, A. L. Antonio, M. Garcia, B. V. Laden, A. Nora, & C. Presley (Eds.), Racial and ethnic diversity in higher education. Boston, MA: Person Custom. Crawford, K., & Smith, D. (2005). The we and the us: Mentoring African American women. Journal of Black Studies, 36(1), 52-67. Crenshaw, K. (1990). A Black feminist critique of antidiscrimination law and politics. The Politics of Law: A Progressive Critique, 195. Creswell, J. W. (2002). Educational research: Planning, conducting, and evaluating quantitative and qualitative approaches to research. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill/Pearson Education. Darwin, A. (2000, May). Critical reflections on mentoring in work settings. Adult Education Quarterly, 50(3), 197-211. Dixon-Reeves, R. (2002). The survey of the characteristics and dimensions of mentoring: An investigation of the mentoring experiences of African American graduate students in departments of sociology. Dissertation Abstracts International, 61(7), 2584. Dixon-Reeves, R. (2003). Mentoring as a precursor to incorporation: An assessment of the mentoring experience of recently minted PhDs. Journal of Black Studies, 34(1), 12-27. Eby, L. T., McManus, S. E., Simon, S. A., & Russell, J. E. A. (2000). The protégé’s perspective regarding negative mentoring experiences: The development of a taxonomy. Journal of Vocational Behavior, 57, 1-21. Ellis, C., & Bochner, A. P. (2000). Autoethnography, personal narrative, and personal reflexivity. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (2nd ed., pp. 733-768). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Elman, J. L. (1991) Distributed representations, simple recurrent networks, and grammatical structure. Machine Learning, 7, 195-224. Friday, E., Friday, S. S., & Green, A. L. (2004). A reconceptualization of mentoring and sponsoring. Management Decision, 42, 628-644. Garvey, B. (2004). The mentoring/counseling/coaching debate: Call a rose by any other name and perhaps it’s a bramble? Development and Learning in Organizations, 18, 6-8. Garvey, B., & Alred, G. (2003). An introduction to the symposium on mentoring: Issues and prospects. British Journal of Guidance & Counseling, 31(1), 3-9. Gasman, M., Hirschfeld, A., & Vultaggio, J. (2008). “Difficult yet rewarding”: The experiences of African American graduate students in education at an Ivy League institution. Journal of Diversity in Higher Education, 1(2), 126. Gay, G. (2004). Navigating marginality en route to the professoriate: Graduate students of color learning and living in academia. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 17(2), 265-288. Gibb, S. (2003). What do we talk about when we talk about mentoring? Blooms and thorns. British Journal of Guidance & Counseling, 31, 39-49. Glesne, C. (2006). Becoming qualitative researchers: An introduction. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill/Pearson Education.

26   C. M. GRANT Gordon, M. (2004). Diversification of the faculty. In F. W. Hale (Ed.), What makes racial diversity work in higher education: Academic leaders present successful policies and strategies (1st ed., pp.183-198). Sterling, VA: Stylus. Grant, C. (2012). Advancing our legacy: A Black feminist perspective on the significance of mentoring for African-American women in educational leadership. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 25(1), 99-115. Grant, C., & Simmons, J. (2008). Narratives on experiences of African-American women in the academy: Conceptualizing effective mentoring relationships of doctoral student and faculty. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 21(5), 501-517. Grossman, J. B., & Rhodes, J. E. (2002). The test of time: Predictors and effects of devotion in youth mentoring. American Journal of Community Psychology, 30, 199-219. Haney Lopez, I. (1998). White by law: The legal construction of race. New York, NY: New York University Press. Harper, S. R., & Hurtado, S. (2007). Nine themes in campus racial climates and implications for institutional transformation. In S. R. Harper & L. D. Patton (Eds.), Responding to the realities of race on campus: New Directions for Student Services, No. 120 (pp. 7-24). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Harris, F. (1999). Centricity and the mentoring experience in academia: An africentric mentoring paradigm. The Western Journal of Black Studies, 23(4), 229-235. Harvey, W., & Scott-Jones, D. (1985). We can’t find any: The elusiveness of Black faculty members in American higher education. Issues in Education, 3, 68-76. Henderson, C. E. (2005, December). When and where I enter: Black women in the academy. Diverse. Retrieved from http://www.diverseeducation.com/artman/ publish/article_5266.shtml Henry, M. (1994). Ivory towers and ebony women: The experiences of Black women in higher education. In S. Davies, C. Lubelska, & J. Quinn (Eds.), Changing the subject: Women in higher education (pp. 42-57). Bristol, PA: Taylor & Francis. Henry, W. J., Thompson, G., & Richards, E. (2006, November). African American women in the academy: Best practices for winning the game. Southern Association for College Student Affairs (SACSA) Conference, Jacksonville, FL. Higgins, M. C., & Kram, K. E. (2001). Reconceptualizing mentoring at work: A developmental network perspective. Academy of Management Review, 26(2), 264-268. Hughes & Howard-Hamilton, M. F. (2003). Theoretical frameworks for African American women. In M. F. Howard-Hamilton (Ed.), New directions for student services. Meeting the needs of African American women (Vol. 104, pp. 19-28). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Irby, B. J. (2012). Mentoring, tutoring, and coaching. Mentoring & Tutoring: Partnership in Learning, 20(3), 297-301. Jackson, K. W. (1991). Black faculty in academia. In P. G. Altbach & K. Lomotey (Eds.), The racial crisis in American higher education (pp. 135–148). Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

From Chair to Podium   27 Jackson, C. H., Kite, M. E., & Branscombe, N. R. (1996, August). African American women’s Mentoring experiences. Paper presented at the meeting of the American Psychological Association, Toronto, Canada. Jacobi, M. (1991). Mentoring and undergraduate success: A literature review. Review of Educational Research, 61(4), 505-532. James, J., & Farmer, R. (Eds.). (1993). Spirit, space & survival: African-American women in (white) academe. New York, NY: Routledge. Jean-Marie, G., & Brooks, J. (2011). Mentoring and supportive networks for women of color in academe. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Contemporary perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10, pp. 91-107). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011a). Women of color in higher education Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011b). Women of color in higher education: Contemporary perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Kochan, F. K., & Trimble, S. B. (2000). From mentoring to co-mentoring: Establishing collaborative relationships. Theory Into Practice, 39(1), 20-28. Kram, K. E. (1985). Mentoring at work: Developmental relationships in organizational life. Glenview, IL: Scott, Foresman. Levinson, D. J., Darrow, C. N., Klein, E. B., Levinson, M. A., & McKee, B. (1978). Season of a man’s life. New York, NY: Knopf. Margolis, E., & Romero, M. (1998). The department is very male, very white, very old, and very conservative: The functioning of the hidden curriculum in graduate sociology departments. Harvard Educational Review, 68(1), 32. Merriam, S. B. (1998). Qualitative research and case study applications in education. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Merriam, S. B. (2009). Qualitative research: A guide to design and implementation. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Mills, A. J., & Simmons, T. (1995). Reading organization theory: A critical approach. Toronto, Ontario: Garamond Press. Moody, J. (2000). Tenure and diversity: Some different voices. Academe, 86, 30-33. Nash, R. J. (2004). Liberating scholarly writing: The power of personal narrative. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Nettles, M. T. (1990). Success in doctoral programs: Experiences of minority and white students. American Journal of Education, 98(4), 494-522. Nichols, J. C., & Tanksley, C. B. (2004, October). Revelations of African-American women with terminal degrees: Overcoming obstacles to success. The Negro Educational Review, 55(4), 175-185. Noe, R. A. (1988). An investigation of the determinants of successful assigned mentoring relationships. Personnel Psychology, 41, 457-479. Oestereichen, M. (1987). Effectiveness of peer tutors/mentors for disadvantaged students at Brooklyn College: Preliminary analyses. Linkages, 5, 27-33. (ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. ED296021) Olsen, D., Maple, S., & Stage, F. (1995). Women and minority faculty job satisfaction: Professional role interests, professional satisfaction, and institutional fit. Journal of Higher Education, 66(3), 267-294.

28   C. M. GRANT Patitu, C. L., & Hinton, K. G. (2003). The experiences of African American women faculty and administrators in higher education: Has anything changed? New Directions for Student Services, 104, 79-93. Peper, J. B. (1994, April). Mentoring, mentors and protégés. Based on six papers presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, New Orleans, LA. Peters, A. L. (2011). Black women faculty in educational leadership: Unpacking their silence in research. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (pp. 147-170). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Rhodes, J. E. (2000). Stand by me: The risks and rewards of mentoring youth. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Schwandt, T. A. (1994). Constructivist, interpretivist approaches to human inquiry. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 118-137). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.​ Schwandt, T. A. (1997). Qualitative inquiry: A dictionary of terms. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Shealey, M. W., Watson, A. L., & Qian, Z. (2011). Your story is my story: Examining the research literature on Black women in teacher education. In G. JeanMarie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (pp. 127-145). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Simmons, J. M. (2007, Winter). Life notes about the dual careers of a black female: Race and gender politics in public school administration and higher education professorship. Advancing Women in Leadership Online Journal, 22. Retrieved from at http://www.advancingwomen.com/awl/winter2007/ JSimmons.htm Simpson, B. (2001, February 21-26). “Can’t you lighten up a bit?” Black women administrators in the academy. Paper presented at the annual national conference of the National Association of African American Studies and the National Association of Hispanic and Latino Studies, Houston, TX. Sorcinelli, M. D., & Yun, J. (2007). From mentor to mentoring networks: Mentoring in the new academy. Change, 39(6), 58-60. Stake, R. E. (1994). Case studies. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 236–247). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Sutter, W. N. (2006). Introduction to educational research: A critical thinking approach. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Thomas, G. D., & Hollenshead, C. (2001). Resisting from the margins: The coping strategies of Black women and other women of color faculty members at a research university. In F. B. Bonner & V. G. Thomas (Eds.), Black women in the academy: Challenges and opportunities [Special issue]. Journal of Negro Education, 70(3), 166-175. Thompson, C., & Dey, E. (1998). Pushed to the margins: Sources of stress for African American college and university faculty. Journal of Higher Education, 69(3), 324-345. Tillman, L. (2001). Mentoring African American faculty in predominantly White institutions. Research in Higher Education, 42(3), 295-325.

From Chair to Podium   29 Turner, C. (2002). Women of color in academe. Journal of Higher Education, 73(1), 74-93. Turner, C. S. V., & Thompson, J. R. (1993). Socializing women doctoral students: Minority and majority experiences. The Review of Higher Education, 16, 355-370. Watt, S. K. (2003, Winter). Come to the river: Using spirituality to cope, resist, and develop identity. In M. F. Howard-Hamilton (Ed.), New directions for student services. Meeting the needs of African American women (Vol. 104, pp. 29-40). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Wheeler, P. H. (1992). Fallacies about recruiting and retaining people of color into doctoral programs of study. Black Issues in Higher Education, 9(10), 96. Wiley, E. (1989). Mentor programs successful in minority retention. Black Issues in Higher Education, 5(22), 8. Wiley, E. (1992). Ability to manage students and collegial expectations key in black faculty success. Black Issues in Higher Education, 9(21), 11-13. Williams, J. B. (1988). Desegregating American’s colleges and universities: Title VI regulation of higher education. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Willie, C., Grady, M., & Hope, R. (1991). African-Americans and the doctoral experience: Implications for policy. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Zamani, E. M. (2003, Winter). African American women in higher education. In M. F. Howard-Hamilton (Ed.), New directions for student services: Meeting the needs of African American women (Vol. 104, pp. 5-18). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Zinn, M. B. (1989). Family, race and poverty in the eighties. Signs, 14(4), 856-874.

Chapter 2

Navigating the Academy Exploring Barriers and Possibilities in Scholarship Through the Lens of an American Indian Scholar Hollie Mackey

Abstract This chapter explores the personal experiences of the author as an American Indian woman working as a faculty member at a research university. The author uses auto-ethnography to identify three conceptualized themes that inform her work: identity, mentorship, and research. These three themes are discussed as a catalyst for the ways in which research culture in the academy may shift in the twenty-first-century university.

The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages 31–51 Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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Introduction Research universities are defined by the quality and quantity of work put forth by scholars within the institution. However, little discussion is situated around empirical analysis regarding individual or cultural differences in and among the researcher in the process of scholarship. This is important given the dearth of evidence that often groups minority faculty as sharing a defined set of barriers that leaves little room for alternative minority voices. The purpose of this chapter is to contribute to the body of research by exploring ways in which I have conceptualized and engaged in scholarship in response to the culture of research institutions in the United States. Finally, and perhaps more importantly, my goal is to provide a space for critical thought, regarding ways in which identity development, mentoring, and engaging in research produces an organic flow of thought and action that characterize each scholar’s unique experience. Conceptually, in this chapter, I discuss themes of scholarship from the premise that (a) while the author is an American Indian woman and scholar, that does not necessarily mean she must identify with or echo the experiences of other American Indian scholars because there is no one single American Indian culture; (b) the many levels of personal and social identity go beyond shared physical characteristics and include complex political, social, and economic circumstances (Mach, 1993); and (c) there are many ways to approach the work required to be successful in Academe, and the face of this work is shifting to include innovative approaches and perspectives. Literature Review It cannot be denied that female scholars and faculty of color face substantial barriers to success in Academe (Calhoun, 2003; Erickson & Rodriguez, 1999; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a, 2011b; Mackey, 2011; Smith & Moreno, 2006). Such barriers include the mental and emotional discomfort of being a numerical minority, minority faculty being treated as symbolically representing their race, and the social isolation many faculty feel as they strive to maintain their own uniqueness while becoming socialized into the dominant culture ideology of higher education (Alexander & Moore, 2007; Fenelon, 2003b). Arguably, these barriers affect all scholars who are members of one or more minority groups to some extent, but a distinct paucity of scholarly literature specifically describes the experiences of American Indian women in the academy (Mackey, 2011). Fenelon (2003b) suggested that systemic and institutional racism undergirds seemingly surface-level barriers and states, “the social sciences are typically less

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interested in describing and analyzing racism that is institutionally based and are more focused on individual acts, which allows elites to dismiss claims of systemic racism” (p. 88). Conversely, empirical research on women faculty of color tends to assume that all faculty of color experience the same barriers regardless of ethnic or cultural identity. However, not all women faculty of color personally identify with empirically identified barriers to success. Scholars have noted that in the retention of faculty of color and women, universities cannot claim to value diversity while silencing the voices of those represented by diversity (Diggs, Garrison-Wade, Estrada, & Galindo, 2009; Fenelon, 2003a, 2003b; Turner, Gonzalez, & Wood, 2008). Moreover, faculty of color and women (or both) are often combined in social science research that fosters the presumption that the experiences of people of color are monolithic, which further curtails the acknowledgment of diversity. To be fair, several scholars have made deliberate attempts to include American Indian women in studies seeking to determine common themes and shared experiences of minority faculty (Dancy & Brown, 2011; Stein, 1994; Turner, 2002). But as JeanMarie (2011) pointed out, full-time American Indian faculty comprise less than 1% of faculty members in the United States—roughly 7,074 of the 1.4 million full-time faculty in the United States—making this an elusive demographic to capture (National Center for Education Statistics, 2009). As a female American Indian faculty member, I have often felt my own voice was missing from the conversation about lived experiences as defined by both the dominant and minority perspectives. Despite a body of literature that includes recurring challenges minority faculty face, there is little mention of faculty of color that do not echo the voices represented. This is problematic for a number of reasons. First, it reinforces notions of imposter syndrome (Dancy & Brown, 2011) in terms of feeling like an imposter in the dominant research culture, but also an imposter as a person of color. Second, it can lead to faculty who do not align with either camp, questioning their identity in destructive ways—that is, questioning whether they are merely unaware that they have been compromised by the dominant culture or feeling shame that they have suspended cultural values by not identifying with or providing enough support to similarly situated individuals who have faced monumental struggles. Third, it illustrates the degree to which all voices are not represented in the conversation of gender and race equity in academia. Given the fact that American Indian women actually comprise less than half of the total number of American Indian faculty, it leads me to ask whether they are excluded from empirical research deliberately? Are they nearly invisible due to their lack of contribution to their respective fields? Without empirical evidence to support either a negative or an affirmative answer, my position is that the answer to both would be “no.” Ardener

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(1987) explained that, from a social anthropology standpoint, the primary factor leading to American Indians’ virtual nonpresence may be based on the fact that non-natives have developed a common identity of this group when in reality each of the 596 federally recognized tribes (Federal Register, 2010) is unique and varied in customs, language, and values. As Mach (1993) stated: Indeed, one could suppose that American Indians acquired one common general identity only after it had been constructed by Europeans for whom all Indian were basically the same, even though for these natives, each tribe possessed unique features which in relations between the tribes served as the basis for mutual identification and social contacts, but which for the newcomers were not significant. Consequently, apart from the identity of an individual tribe, a new, general, common identity of Indians appeared as an image of the whole category which had not existed before in the model of the world of the local people. (p. 8)

It is likely that this same explanation of phenomenon can be similarly applied to the ways in which American Indians have been situated under empirical studies addressing members of non-Indian status. Method Because this chapter defines personal experience couched in findings from empirical research, I have chosen an auto-ethnographic structure from which to approach my synthesis of the topic—that is, my experiences as a female scholar of color in higher education. Hayano (1979) identified two types of auto-ethnography, one in which the researcher is an insider and obvious member of the group being studied, and a second in which “researchers .have acquired an intimate familiarity with certain subcultural, recreational, or occupational group” (p. 100). The methodological approach for this chapter is derived from the first of Hayano’s identified auto-ethnography approaches. Oral tradition is the primary means by which American Indian cultures have preserved historical fact, transmitted values, and taught future generations about knowing both themselves and the world around them (Fontana, 1969). I selected the process method of auto-interviewing to collect and analyze data because it is aligned with American Indian tradition that allows for qualitative categorization and description of details necessary to infer thematic recurrences (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000). Autointerviewing consists of oral recollection of events and experiences of the researcher that are then transcribed into a tangible data source (Boufoy-

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Bastick, 2004). Cultural relevance, the scarcity of literature regarding the experiences of American Indian women in professoriate, and the fact that the number of American Indian faculty members is scant led me to this approach. As is found within many social science debates regarding methodology, there are critics of the auto-ethnography approach (Delamont, 2007) as well as differences of opinion among supporters of this methodological approach in terms of definition and applicability (Anderson, 2006; Austin & Hickey, 2007; Denzin, 2006; Holt, 2003). Delamont (2007) may be one of the most vocal critics who stated that auto-ethnography is intellectually lazy and warrants consideration of the methodological approach. This illustrates the tension among critics between traditional and emerging approaches to research. While recognizing legitimate concerns regarding auto-ethnography, to choose another approach that removed the personal context from this chapter would make me complicit in perpetuating the tension. Data Collection and Analysis I began by making audio recordings of my recalled experiences in graduate school and the professoriate. These recordings were then transcribed verbatim. I then collected the most recent 4 years of my existing work activity and personal journal entries and aligned them into one chronological document. As a third data source, I collected a body of literature that discussed the struggles faced by faculty of color. This allowed the space for greater triangulation between the literature base and available data sources. The transcribed oral recall and combined journal documents were then open coded (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000) for alignment of recurring themes in the literature base that relates to barriers to success for faculty of color. Open-coding phrases included emotional distress, tokenism, social norming, social isolation, scholarly isolation, maintaining identity, and feelings of belonging. Journal passages related to these empirically based headings were then selectively coded to determine recurring themes found in and across these core concepts (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000). This selective coding led to the three recurring themes used for determining the direction in which further literature should be reviewed in order to triangulate between the original literature base and the oral and written journal data. Within my personal experience, three recurring themes continue to inform and drive my professional life as a member of the academy. These themes include (a) the continuous conceptualization (and often reconceptualization) of my identity as a scholar, (b) exploration of the

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purpose and practices embedded in mentoring, and (c) navigating through the notion of research and scholarship as it is currently institutionalized in the system. This list is neither inclusive of all factors that have colored my experiences nor does it begin to predict challenges that may arise in the future. Taken as a whole, each thread is thematically braided into a robustly constructed cord that keeps me profoundly connected to my purpose as a scholar. Findings There are four reasons that exploring the themes I have defined above contribute to increasing understanding about what it means to be an American Indian woman working within a field dominated by nonminority professionals (Dancy & Brown, 2011; Mackey, 2011). First, whether an emerging scholar feels it necessary to methodically assess her developing awareness of her own identity, navigating the world of academia forces her to do so. The adage, you don’t know what you don’t know, holds true in the respect that as a scholar moves through graduate school and into higher education as a faculty member, greater exposure to research on identity informs the development of research agendas, participation in research and service activities, and positioning of the self within the greater organization. Second, despite the quality work and contributions of many women of color, the field is still underrepresented (Dancy & Brown, 2011; JeanMarie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a, 2011b). Quality mentoring provides an opportunity for emerging scholars to be inducted into the academy in a way that sets them up for success while providing a safe space in which to fail before the stakes are so high as to derail a promising career. Moreover, it sets the stage for developing sustainable relationships that draw from the expertise of those scholars who have contributed to the increasing numbers of female faculty members of color and contributes to a culture of support that junior scholars can carry forward as they advance in their careers. Mentoring can take many forms, and we must strive to learn from a differentiation of mentoring opportunities (Grant & Simmons, 2008; Jean-Marie & Brooks, 2011; Sorcinelli & Yun, 2007). A third reason that my experience informs collective understanding lies in the fact that there appears to be a growing tension between traditional and emerging methodologies or approaches to research. I have found this particular tension to be an arena of thought in which I spend a considerable amount of time in reflection. My own understanding of research has been challenged and refined, at times leaving me with the feeling that I have suspended some part of myself to participate in the subtle

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acculturation that is academe, which is characterized by adherence to linear research design using prescribed methods for both conducting and reporting research findings (Mackey & Peters, 2009). Conversely, I have felt the exhilaration of being recognized for stepping outside the norm; not content to merely ask the question, “What do I want to know?” but rather “What motivates me to know more?” and “What do I do with what I’ve learned?” I argue that it is easy to become lost in the institutionalized acceptance of how research is defined, and my hope is that this chapter adequately contextualizes the topic in a way that other scholars find useful. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, my goal is to provide a space for critical thought with regard to the ways in which identity development, mentoring, and engaging in research produces an organic flow of thought and action that characterize each scholar’s unique experience. Higher education can be perceived as rigid and linear, leading to the questioning of individual fit. My experiences have taught me that there is no mold, and we must continuously assess our own perceptions, and in that assessment, the conditions for empowerment are put in place. For the purpose of this chapter, I have selected three scholarly pieces from which to frame the discussion of the themes stated above. Situating these themes further into an empirical base allows for secondary triangulation of findings. These include (a) Jones and McEwen’s (2000) seminal article on multiple dimensions of identity; (b) Dancy and Brown’s (2011) article that discusses mentoring, imposter syndrome, and other related psychological stresses associated with induction of faculty of color; and (c) Eatman’s (2009) piece on engaged scholarship and faculty rewards. My intent is to use this framework as a starting point for discussion about these important topics. I will use my personal experience narrative to enrich the discussion and illustrate the ways in which the articles have contributed to my growth as a scholar of color. Conceptualizing Identity Human beings, by our nature, are aware of the basic process of defining identity and engage in the process regularly. That is not to say that there is always a conscious deliberation involved. For example, our first experience with another person who does not look like us triggers the mental exercise of identifying what makes the person an other. This can be illustrated by walking through the mental process when one encounters an exceptionally tall person. One first sees the person and acknowledges that person’s height, then relates that to his or her own height. If one is also very tall, one confirms the other’s identity as a tall person. If one is of average height, one confirms an average stature in relation to the taller person. If

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one is on the shorter side, one might assess the very tall person compared to oneself, then in relation to people one knows or sees who may be of average height, confirming that one is shorter than average stature. Other times, it may be an intentional and deliberate exercise. In order to conduct this study about my experiences as an American Indian woman in higher education, it was necessary for me to take the time to assess what those definitions meant in relation to my identity and how those definitions might best be conveyed. My conscientious deliberation of my own identity as a scholar of color began in my third semester of graduate school. I had been taking courses part time while working in schools on and near the Northern Cheyenne Indian reservation, my home community. I use the term “home” to denote my root familial affiliation and tribal membership; in no way did it feel like home. I had returned after living in non-native communities for the bulk of my life. It is important to note that I am biracial; my mother is Northern Cheyenne, and my father is non-native. I felt like an imposter and wondered whether I belonged among the students and families I was serving. At this time in my life, I was introduced to the metaphor of walking in two worlds, which in this context is the notion that indigenous people must exist and behave in culturally appropriate indigenous ways when within their respective communities but act and behave White when engaging outside of their home community or culture (Fitzgerald, 2006; Henze & Vanett, 1993). While often used in reference to indigenous issues, walking in two worlds can be found across a broad range of literature spanning such topics as anthropology, ethics in archaeology, Japanese dance, ecology, and religion (Hahn, 2007; Henze & Vanett, 1993, Kloor, 2010; White, 1974). However, in a critical examination of indigenous education culture and the walking in two worlds metaphor, Henze and Vanett (1993) cautioned that, “[w]hen a metaphor is as pervasive as this one; it is easy to take for granted. In an unconscious way, the metaphor shapes how people perceive their own lives and those of others” (p. 119). As it was explained to me, my struggles came from having to perform as a White person in the White world in which I was familiar and as an Indian in the native world. Armed with that knowledge, I was alleviated (for the most part) from the conflicting feelings and confusion I felt trying to fit in. Feeling confident, I took the time to share my identity conflict revelation with an elder in high standing in our community. He listened, and then he gently asked me whether I felt it was true or whether it was a plausible panacea that simply helped me compartmentalize my identity struggle. I began to question, is there really more than one world? I left with an understanding that my journey was just starting, and I was going to be forced to spend more time contemplating the issue.

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My initial assessment of my own identity was framed in terms of race. Was I an Indian, or was I White? Can I be both, or must I choose? Investigating these questions led to other factors entering into my deliberation. I am a woman, I am a mother, I am a teacher, I am a Christian, and I am a scholar. How do these factors color the others? Jones and McEwen (2000) asked similar, albeit more sophisticated, questions and developed a conceptual model of multiple dimensions of identity in response to the body of literature that addressed single dimensions of identity (i.e., race or gender) but did “not address how an individual may simultaneously develop and embrace multiple minority statuses” (p. 405). According to Jones and McEwen (2000), identity is not compartmentalized into finely delineated categories but rather is constructed by both core and contextual factors. They described the core identity as “a core sense of self ” (p. 408) and based their claim on the work of Jones (1997), whose previous work on identity development defined the core self in terms of valued personal attributes and characteristics. Included in the core are gender, race, religion, class, culture, and sexual orientation (Jones & McEwen, 2000). The development of our core self is unique to each person and is not static even within the individual. Rather, a fluidity of identity is rooted in the context of a particular point in time, making some characteristics of our core more salient than others (Jones & McEwen, 2000). I argue that it is of utmost importance that female scholars of color take the time to assess their core identities regularly and maintain an awareness of the differences between internal and external classification (Mach, 1993). This must be done mindfully, understanding that in many instances, “a group often accepts its own identity as constructed by [others], especially if these [others] are stronger in economic, political, or cultural relations” (Mach, 1993, p. 8). These scholars must take the time to examine the external imposition of identity characteristics placed on them by others and determine the degree to which those characteristics apply. Social anthropologists, such as Ardener (1987) and Mach (1993), warned that the normative process of group identity development, driven by political and social factors, can lead to the development of a group identity (i.e., identity of female faculty of color), which did not previously exist. There was a period of time when the internal and external characteristics of my identity as an American Indian colored my perceptions of what my scholarly work should look like. The apparent association between who I am and what might be expected of me led me to focus my research in areas primarily devoted to American Indian education. However, American Indian education research was never my primary goal, nor did it align with where I saw myself in the future. Through the exploration of my own identity, I have come to determine that while my research might always include connections between the research topic and American Indian

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students, I am not obligated to make it my sole research focus simply because I identify with that particular minority group. It is equally important to critically assess whether or the degree to which scholars of color suspend our ethnic identity in order to become what is considered to be a full player in the game of higher education. This point is particularly salient given the social phenomenon wherein a person will subconsciously accept particular identity characteristics imposed by others in order to assume a “new identity, compatible with what they see as the identity of the local people and eventually become one of them” (Mach, 1993, p. 8). It is clear that the academy of the (not so distant) past brought with it a specific set of hidden rules that defined scholarship (Alexander & Moore, 2007; Fenelon, 2003b). The above conceptualization of external identity assignment has led me to deconstruct my own identity in order to fully develop as a scholar. I cannot pinpoint any examples of times where I have felt marginalized due to gender or race. Through the work of others, I have gained insight into the ways in which the institution marginalizes women of color. I am no longer content to be the voice of American Indian women simply because I am of that group. My thinking has been refined, and now I choose to conduct research and advocate for others similar to the way I have chosen to view my identity using Jones and McEwen’s (2000) model. The external imposition of societal expectations based on group affiliation is also problematic when it comes to the selection of service for tenure and promotion purposes. Should a scholar of color serve on the diversity committee or belong to minority professional organizations based on their core characteristics? My experience is that it is more beneficial to participate in organizations that align with my interests rather than because of how others categorize me. For example, I enjoy the work associated with diversity committees; however, I prefer the work associated with the ethics committee. Hence, I have decided to dedicate service time in that area. Conversely, I am committed to furthering the work on improving American Indian education currently being addressed by the Oklahoma State Department of Education, not because I feel external pressure or obligation as an American Indian, but because it is important to my interests and passions as a scholar. My contribution to any committee or professional organization is more thoughtful when I have not succumbed to external pressure to participate based on where others believe I fit. My biggest challenge in academia has been the process of understanding who I am and how that fits into my scholarly work. As I have revisited the notion of walking in two worlds, one fact becomes clear to me. We all have cultural and societal experiences that have formed each of our own unique and multifaceted identities regardless of our race or ethnic status. Specifically, addressing the concept from an ethnic perspective leads me to

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a similar conclusion. If we define ethnic identity as sharing a common history and culture, sharing similar physical features, and “interacting with each other and establishing boundaries with others” (Moran, Fleming, Somervell, & Manson, 1999, p. 406), it is shortsighted to isolate identity as a singularly identifiable element of self, such as gender, race, religion, class, culture, or sexual orientation, when they are all included as components of one’s core identity (Jones, 1997; Jones & McEwen, 2000). In relation to my biracial status, I can easily apply the definition of ethnic identity above to both sides of my racial makeup. My key understanding stems from knowing that I do not walk in two worlds; I navigate through one world with various factors and experiences that weave together while informing one another. My shared history and culture is not limited to either my American Indian ancestry or my non-native ancestry. It is inclusive of the shared histories of many ethnic groups (some of which I am not a genetic member), who have a shared lived experience outside of particular cultural impact. It is only through and within a critical assessment of our position as a scholar of color that we can determine our personal goals and boundaries in relation to working in higher education. Mentorship for Success Gaining greater insight into the nuances of identity can be complex. A scholar of color must then decide what her conclusions mean for her and what to do with them. Mentorship is a critical element to professional development and goal setting. I am grateful to a number of scholars who have taken a mentorship role in my professional life. Mentors provide an invaluable source of information and guidance as junior scholars are inducted into the academy. A number of scholars state the significance of mentorship for the recruitment and retention of faculty members of color (Alexander & Moore, 2007; Dancy & Brown, 2011; Jean-Marie & Brooks, 2011; Laden & Hagedorn, 2002; Stanley, 2006). Dancy and Brown (2011) inform us that “the process of becoming a scholar is an elusive one, often wrought with conflicting expectations about who one is and what one does in that role” (p. 3). Strong mentorship networks can facilitate scholarly development and bring clarity to this elusive process. Boyer and Rice (1990) suggest four guiding principles for scholarship: advancement of knowledge, integration of knowledge, application of knowledge, and presentation of knowledge. Mentors are responsible for guiding emerging scholars through those guiding principles. However, as Dancy and Brown (2011) point out, those who wish to mentor “must bring nuanced understanding about what that work entails with respect to scholars of color” (p. 3).

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Dancy and Brown’s (2011) analysis of mentoring and induction of educators of color resonates with me in a way that many articles and discussions have not. First, the authors addressed myths associated with mentoring, such as the myths that any senior person can mentor a junior person, and faculty of color are only able to provide effective mentoring to students of color. As a scholar, these myths, if true, would prove to be an insurmountable obstacle in my particular situation. According to the National Center for Education Statistics (2009), in 2007, full-time faculty of color only comprised 17% of the professorial staff in American institutions of higher education. Additionally, American Indians comprise a mere .4% of that population, with the number of American Indian women ranking lower than other ethnic groups (Jean-Marie, 2011; National Center for Education Statistics, 2009). The National Center for Education Statistics (2009) also reports that faculty of color tend to be younger (30% under the age of 40) and lag behind in representation at research institutions compared to White faculty (27% to 25%). The likelihood that I would find a mentor who is both senior in the field and an American Indian woman at a research institution is slim to none. Moreover, the demand for faculty of color for service and advising is low (Dancy & Brown, 2011), which further limits mentoring opportunities. According to Jean-Marie and Brooks (2011), having different kinds of mentors through networks will help a protégé maximize meaningful mentoring opportunities. Equally important is that different mentoring networks evolve at different stages of the professoriate. In particular for women of color, mentoring opportunities may occur across different gender and race. I have developed a strong network of mentors whom I credit with helping me realize my potential as a scholar and assisting me with my transition into the professoriate. Some of these mentors are American Indian, whereas some are not. I have even managed to find the elusive creature known as the female American Indian scholar over the age of 40 but from outside the university. The strength of my particular mentor network has been of benefit on personal and professional levels, which supports Dancy and Brown’s (2011) claim that “professional development programs that center the unique needs and experiences of people of color largely embrace the concept of community building” (p. 5). I would argue that this concept of community building is essential to developing successful scholars for two reasons. First, the elusive nature of the professoriate does not lend itself to outwardly stating the hidden rules and processes of becoming a scholar. My experience has been that, on varying levels, developing scholars are fully aware of the institutionalized norms. I cannot number the occasions where I have been genuinely baffled by an interaction with somebody at a university where the process of becoming a scholar was implied to be something I should be aware of

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by my mere presence. In some ways, I am thankful for those experiences. Had I known of the process and challenges of graduate school in advance, I might still be a barista in a nice little coffee shop somewhere. The simple fact of the matter is that as an American Indian woman, I had no concrete experience prior to my induction into higher education at the graduate level of what it meant to do grad school. As a junior faculty member, I find that the same holds true. Not only do I have the responsibility to perform my research, teaching, and service well, but I also have the additional responsibility to understand how to work within a foreign culture—that is, the American university culture, with only minimal experience and knowledge of institutional norms. Effective mentors have been instrumental in assisting me through this process. Second, as the National Center for Education Statistics (2009) statistics inform, faculty members of color are underrepresented in higher education. The statistics from that same source indicate that Asian and White faculty members are predominant among research institutions, while other ethnicities tend to work in community colleges. These facts should compel women scholars of color to not only look toward mentoring for self-development but to intentionally move forward into mentoring positions that can positively impact these disparate numbers. One of my most crucial mentoring relationships is with a faculty member who actively engages in mentoring for future mentorship while he is addressing my current need. It can be simply explained as a pay it forward model; however, in retrospect, I have been able to identify his numerous strategies that have helped me to form my own approach to mentorship. I fully support differentiated mentorship experiences for all emerging scholars. Much like the concept of multiple identities, there are multiple mentorship needs. By not limiting the number of people involved in my mentor network and not excluding based on ethnic or gender characteristics, I have become a member of a community of mentors. As my career has progressed, I have transitioned easily into increased mentoring demands because it was modeled for me, and the hidden rules of academia were intentionally taught. This has been beneficial because I have the ability to focus more time on my research and less time on understanding an unfamiliar institutional culture. The Worth of Nontraditional Research There are specific “cultural values and types of knowledge” generation (Eatman, 2009, p. 18) typically accepted as research leading to tenure and promotion in higher education. Not only is “publish or perish” still the phrase by which faculty abide, faculty additionally rank publications’

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worth based on factors such as peer review, journal tier levels, and distribution (i.e., international, national, or local). Senior faculty members overtly value their work in terms of contribution to the field while requiring junior faculty, at times, to justify the reason that a particular piece of work that falls outside the traditional peer-reviewed journal track merits tenure points. My journey to the professoriate began with one goal. I wanted to develop a school discipline model based on restorative justice practices. I hoped to improve the opportunities and support structures in place for the disproportionate numbers of students of color who are systematically pushed out of our schools daily (Mackey & Stefkovich, 2010). Before I could develop my model, I had to find empirical evidence to support my phenomenological claim that these students were actually experiencing systemic exclusion. I began to conduct research to provide the needed evidence and found more than I had originally imagined available. The biggest challenge I have faced as a scholar in higher education is confronting the feelings of disappointment I experience when I find the data or information I need to conduct my research and realize the problem is deeper and more pervasive than I had believed it to be. My topical interest went beyond wanting to answer the questions associated with the issue; I wanted to do something about it once those questions were answered. As I continue my induction into the academy, I am disheartened to admit that I have not yet developed that restorative justice-based school discipline model, which is not valued in the tenure and promotion process because the doing would take valuable time from other scholarly writing (Hurtado & Sharkness, 2008). I have elected to revisit that goal post-tenure in order to free up my time to write publications to submit to the peer-review process of top-tier journals. Further, an emerging trend in scholarship appears to be supporting greater recognition of new approaches to research that challenge traditional research culture (Gonzalez & Padilla, 2008; Fenelon, 2003a; Hurtado & Sharkness, 2008; O’Meara, Terosky, & Neumann, 2008; Vance, 2010). As a new scholar, I find that I am continually engaged in discussion regarding the value of different types of research and scholarly activities. This has led to internal assessment of my own motivation for entering the professoriate and how I might define indicators of success. In my search for these personal indicators, I have become acquainted with Eatman’s (2009) work that explores public scholarship. This type of scholarship is defined as “scholarly or creative activity that joins serious intellectual endeavor with a commitment to public practice and public consequences” (p. 18). This moves beyond the traditional research culture of most universities in a number of ways. Traditional research tends to be linear in process, with the researcher maintaining control over the

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study. The scholar designs the study, collects the appropriate data, analyzes those data, writes up the findings, and submits it for publication. The work is then published in a journal of topical relevance and is often limited in audience to other researchers with similar interests (Mackey & Peters, 2009). Public scholarship, in contrast, is not bound by a specific process or form. Rather, Eatman (2009) states that public scholarship includes: • Scholarly and creative work jointly planned and carried out by university and community partners; • Intellectual work that produces a public good; • Artistic, critical, and historical work that contributes to public debates; and • Efforts to expand the place of public scholarship in higher education, including the development of new programs and research on the successes of such efforts. (p. 18) Coupled with Eatman’s (2009) promotion of engaged scholarship is the recognition that the academy will be required to embrace a shift in research culture that allows space for non-traditional research approaches (Gonzalez & Padilla, 2008; Hurtado & Sharkness, 2008). However, public scholarship is not an either-or choice for scholars. Ellison and Eatman (2008) envision public scholarship as a continuum that spans traditional engagement and scholarship on one side and full civic engagement and reciprocal scholarship on the other. The authors stated: [T]he continuum holds things in relationships of resemblance and unlikeness. The resemblance comes from the principle that connects them: that work on the continuum, however various, will be judged by common principles, standards to which all academic scholarly and creative work is held. “Quality” and “impact” in a chosen field are the most common unifying criteria, though these are by no means transparent terms…. Without dismantling traditional conceptions of who qualifies as a peer in peer review, for example, or of what counts as knowledge or the dissemination of knowledge, a generous continuum of scholarship will be undone by a narrow definition of impact. (pp. 9-10)

Eatman (2009) noted public scholarly engagement is “often a risky early career option, particularly for women and faculty of color” (p. 18). Until higher education is ready to embrace public scholarship and align tenure and promotion criteria to recognize this type of scholarship, a scholar may find herself focusing more on traditional research pre-tenure. I have consciously chosen to engage in both traditional and public scholarship to the best of my ability. I entered the professoriate with specific goals, and in order to realize those goals on a personal level, I am faced with

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making professional decisions that may be, as Eatman (2009) stated, risky. However, it is the choice I must make after evaluating my identity and determining my purpose in the field. Discussion A scholar rarely has the opportunity to critically analyze and share her personal perspective on an academic topic. In this study, I intended to describe the various tensions that have surfaced in my experiences as an American Indian woman working in higher education. Even within the discussion lies the power of the issues for consideration that lay embedded between the lines of text. None of the themes brought forth is static, and each is open to interpretation based on each scholar’s unique experience. The foundations on which we construct our identity, approach mentoring, or conceptualize research lay deep within us and require continual assessment as our foundation influences our work as scholars. The ideal of diversity inclusion in higher education and research, that is, education for, by, about, and inclusive of all, often falls short with regard to the lived experiences of American Indian scholars. Cultural pluralism has become a norm for the American education system, which represents progress from the Anglo-conformity goals espoused by educational leaders of the early 1900s. However, nontraditional research approaches, including indigenous epistemologies, are not fully represented or adequately included in conversations of research methodology. American Indian scholars may inherently view “research” from a cultural lens that is foreign to those unfamiliar with tribal ways of knowing, an approach that steadfastly weaves cultural values and purpose throughout all avenues of being. Littlebear (2009) wrote: Culture seems to be those words, artifacts, social phenomena, and ideas that one cherishes, that one builds belief systems and values … that people feel they must protect…. Cultures are not static. They are not momentary, like the lightning bolt across the evening sky, but last as long as the people they encompass endure. (p. 89)

Hence, cultural differences can become an extraordinarily heavy burden because culture cannot be checked at the door. Moreover, culture is often the reason that we do what we do. In this respect, we are forced to confront an institutionalized system that requires nondominant cultural groups to conform to the dominant group while there is no requirement for reciprocity.

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Protecting Identity and Knowledge Researchers have chosen to address identity and scholarship in various ways, and understanding the many components of full cultural inclusion in that scholarship can be daunting. American Indian cultures recognize the enormity of the task but seem to have different reasons for making it an important priority. These cultures fully grasp the necessity for nuanced recognition for the multitude of ethnic facets for two specific reasons. First, the majority of American Indian students are of mixed tribal and ethnic backgrounds; therefore, in order to create a space where all perspectives are valued, multiple cultural backgrounds must be incorporated. Second, tribal differences and acknowledging the existence of several hundred perspectives, customs, languages, and traditions is not something that native people have to learn, they simply know that these many differences exist. They also understand that native cultures cannot exist in a vacuum separate from the dominant cultural aspects that guide American culture. These basic understandings have created an approach to research that blends a myriad of cultures and transitions smoothly between past and present contexts. American Indian communities have endured monumental forces that have tried to eradicate, assimilate, and deny their existence. This endurance is both evidence of and ammunition for cherishing and protecting the cultural values that have provided core stability for tribes and tribal communities. In a real sense, walking in worlds inclusive of both dominant and nondominant group experiences as well as between equally nondominant groups provides the opportunity to continue to conduct research aligned with traditional customs and values without denying the greater expectations of the academy, which has yet to fully accept otherness in research. Through recognition of all cultural groups, American Indian scholars preserve our heritage. Nontraditional methodology is not about what we do, it is about who we are and intentionally moving forward in ways that allow our children to understand how they fit within our own cultures as well as how they fit into greater society simultaneously. As the ethnic complexity of American society continues to grow, there will be an increasing need for scholars of color to learn how to develop authentic identities in a multicultural world. I believe others can cherish and protect their heritages through this approach to scholarship. Conclusion A number of authors offer suggestions for improving the experiences of minority faculty in higher education. Building from previous research,

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Erickson and Rodriguez (1999) submitted that institutions must aggressively pursue actions to ensure “fair and equal treatment and opportunities for all faculty members” (p. 159). The authors envisioned action at four responsibility levels: university administrators, department chairpersons, senior faculty or faculty mentors, and new or junior women and racial/ ethnic faculty. They suggested that junior faculty make sure they negotiate for graduate assistants, establish connections with others in the department, learn to network, develop good working relations with office staff, establish and maintain limits, and formulate a detailed long-range teaching and research agenda. Additionally, they recommended evaluating any new task or opportunity in terms of how it fits with your job description, seeking out faculty development activities, looking for collaboration opportunities, and, perhaps most importantly, understanding that becoming a faculty person is difficult and time-consuming, so finding socialization experiences is critical for success (Erickson & Rodriguez, 1999). Other scholars have supported more deliberate shifts in the way research and faculty positions are conceptualized within higher education. According to O’Meara, Terosky, and Neumann (2008), faculty must investigate shifting demographics of the profession, who is doing the work, and where the work is being done to determine how institutions could be more proactive in responding to the needs of minority faculty. O’Meara et al. suggested looking toward time-share and nontenure-track positions for faculty trying to juggle family life while maintaining a demanding workload, flattening the organizational structure to promote community and transparency for newer generations of scholars, and recognizing multiple forms of cultural contributions to the academy. Vance (2010) supported rethinking the sole value of publishing in the traditional sense and supports other culturally appropriate ways of sharing knowledge. This includes deep discussion and deliberation of ideas in a face-to face environment to engage and keep faculty energized. She supported the claim that research conversations can be continuous through an oral tradition similar to the oral histories of people throughout the world. Her progressive research has pushed the boundaries of traditional and accepted rules of research and academia. Discussions such as these are critical for creating a shift in research culture across academia. Underrepresentation of faculty of color limits the voices of those whose experiences might richly inform the field and scholarship. Additionally, limiting the vast array of voices within the minority faculty population is detrimental to our understanding of what it means for some people to be a member of this group. I am encouraged by the numerous scholars who are stretching the boundaries and creating catalysts for these important issues. I am only one person, but as more people enter the debate, a shift is possible.

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References Alexander, R., & Moore, S. E. (2007). The benefits, challenges, and strategies of African American faculty teaching at predominantly White institutions. Journal of African American Studies, 12(1), 4-18. Anderson, L. (2006). Analytic auto-ethnography. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 35(4), 373-395. Ardener, E. (1987). Remote areas: Some theoretical considerations. In A. Jackson (Ed.), Anthropology at home (pp. 39-54). London: Tavistock. Austin, J., & Hickey, A. (2007). Auto-ethnography and teacher development. The International Journal of Interdisciplinary Social Sciences, 2, 1-9. Boufoy-Bastick, B. (2004). Auto-interviewing, auto-ethnography, and critical incident methodology for eliciting a self-conceptualized worldview. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung/Forum Qualitative Social Research, 5(1), 37. Retrieved from http://www.qualitative-research.net/index.php/fqs/article/view/651/1410 Boyer, E., & Rice, R. (1990). The new American scholar. Pittsburgh, PA: Carnegie Foundation. Calhoun, J. A. (2003). It’s just a social obligation. You could say “no”! American Indian Quarterly, 27(1-2), 132-154. Dancy, T. E., & Brown, M. C. (2011). The mentoring and induction of educators of color: Addressing the imposter syndrome in academe. Journal of School Leadership, 21(4), 607-634. Delamont, S. (2007). Arguments against auto-ethnography. Qualitative Researcher, 4. Retrieved from http://www.cardiff.ac.uk/socsi/qualiti/QualitativeResearcher/ QR_Issue4_Feb07.pdf Denzin, N. K. (2006). Analytic auto-ethnography, or déjà vu all over again. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 35(4), 419-428. Denzin, N. K., & Lincoln, Y. S. (2000). Handbook of qualitative research. London: SAGE. Diggs, G. A., Garrison-Wade, D. F., Estrada, D., & Galindo, R. (2009). Smiling faces and colored spaces: The experiences of faculty of color pursuing tenure in the academy. Urban Review, 41(1), 312-333. Eatman, T. K. (2009). Engaged scholarship and faculty rewards: A national conversation. Diversity and Democracy, 12(1), 18-19. Ellison, J., & Eatman, T. K. (2008). Scholarship in public: Knowledge creation and tenure policy in the engaged university. Syracuse, NY: Imagining America. Erickson, C. D., & Rodriguez, E. R. (1999). Indiana Jane and the temple of doom: Recommendations for enhancing women and racial/ethnic faculty’s success in academia. Innovating Higher Education, 24(2), 149-168. Federal Register. (2010). Document number 2010-24620J, 10(190). Retrieved from http://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/FR-2010-10-01/html/2010-24640.htm Fenelon, J. V. (2003a). Indians teaching about indigenous: How and why the academy discriminates. American Indian Quarterly, 27(1-2), 177-188. Fenelon, J. V. (2003b). Race, research, and tenure: Institutional credibility and the incorporation of African, Latino, and American Indian Faculty. Journal of Black Studies, 34(1), 87-100.

50  H. MACKEY Fitzgerald, T. (2006). Walking between two worlds: Indigenous women and educational leadership. Educational Management Administration Leadership, 34(2), 201-213. Fontana, B. L. (1969). American Indian oral history: An anthropologist’s note. History and Theory, 8(3), 366-370. Gonzalez, K., & Padilla, R. (2008). Doing the public good. Sterling, VA: Stylus. Grant, C. M., & Simmons, J. C. (2008). Narratives on experiences of AfricanAmerican women in the academy: Conceptualizing effective mentoring relationships of doctoral student and faculty. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 21(5), 501-517. Hahn, T. (2007). Sensational knowledge: Embodying culture through Japanese dance (music culture). Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press. Hayano, D. M. (1979). Auto-ethnography: Paradigms, problems, and prospects. Human Development, 38(1), 99-104. Henze, R. C., & Vanett, L. (1993). Walking in two worlds—or more? Challenging a common metaphor of native education. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 24(2), 116-134. Holt, N. L. (2003). Representation, legitimation, and auto-ethnography: An autoethnographic writing story. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 2(1), 18-28. Hurtado, S., & Sharkness, J. (2008). Scholarship is changing, and so must tenure review. Academe Online, 94(5). Retrieved from http://aaup.org/AAUP/pubsres/ academe/2008/SO/Feat/hurt.htm Jean-Marie, G. (2011). Unfinished agendas: Trends in women of color’s status in academe. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9, pp. 3-19). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jean-Marie, G., & Brooks, J. (2011). Mentoring and supportive networks for women of color in academe. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Contemporary perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10, pp. 91107). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011a). Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011b). Women of color in higher education: Contemporary perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jones, S. R. (1997). Voices of identity and difference: A qualitative exploration of the multiple dimensions of identity development of women college students. Journal of College Student Development, 38, 376-386. Jones, S. R., & McEwen, M. K. (2000). A conceptual model of multiple dimensions of identity. Journal of College Student Development, 41(4), 405-414. Kloor, K. (2010). Science and native rights: Walking in two worlds. Science, 330(6001), 168-169. Laden, B. V., & Hagedorn, L. S. (2002). Job satisfaction among faculty of color in academe: Individual survivors or institutional transformers? New Directions for Institutional Research, 2000(105), 57-66.

Navigating the Academy   51 Littlebear, R. (2009) Understanding American Indian cultures. In L. S. Warner & G. E. Gipp (Eds.), Traditions and culture in the millennium: Tribal colleges and university (pp. 89-92). Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Mach, Z. (1993). Symbols, conflict, and identity: Essays in political anthropology. New York, NY: State University of New York Press. Mackey, H. J. (2011). Identity and research: Exploring themes of scholarship of an American Indian scholar in the academy. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9, pp. 291-305). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Mackey, H. J., & Peters, B. K. (2009). A paradox of the field: Merging multiple realities and moving forward with school-university partnerships. The Beacon, 6(1), 1-8. Mackey, H. J., & Stefkovich, J. A. (2010). Zero-tolerance policies and administrative decision-making: The case for restorative justice-based school discipline reform. In global perspectives on educational leadership reform: The development and preparation of leaders of learning and learners of leadership. Advances in Educational Administration, 11, 243-262. Moran, J. R., Fleming, C. M., Somervell, P., & Manson, S. M. (1999). Measuring bicultural ethnic identity among American Indian adolescents: A factor analytic study. Journal of Adolescent Research, 14(4), 405-426. National Center for Education Statistics. (2009). Digest of education statistics (NCES 2010-103). Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Education. O’Meara, K., Terosky, A. L., & Neumann, A. (2008). Faculty careers and work lives: A professional growth perspective. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Smith, D. G., & Moreno, J. F. (2006). Hiring the next generation of professors: Will myths remain excuses? Chronicle of Higher Education, 53(6), 64. Sorcinelli, M. D., & Yun, J. (2007). From mentor to mentoring networks: Mentoring in the new academy. Change, 58-61. Stanley, C. A. (2006). Coloring the academic landscape: Faculty of color breaking the silence in predominantly white colleges and universities. American Educational Research Journal, 43(4), 701-736. Stein, W. J. (1994). The survival of American Indian faculty. Thought and Action, 10(1), 101-113. Turner, C. S. V. (2002). Women of color in academe: Living with multiple marginality. The Journal of Higher Education, 73(1), 74-93. Turner, C. S. V., Gonzalez, J. C., & Wood, J. L. (2008). Faculty of color in academe: Vance, J. (2010). To publish or not to publish. Tribal College Journal, 21(3), 22-26. What 20 years of literature tells us. (n.d.). Journal of Diversity in Higher Education, 1(3), 139-168. White, L. (1974). The historical roots of our ecologic crisis: Ecology and religion in History. New York, NY: Harper & Row.

Chapter 3

Call Me by My True Names An Emerging Scholar’s Transformation Within and Outside the Academy Natalie A. Tran

Abstract An auto-ethnographic approach is used in this chapter to describe my journey toward the professoriate in the academy—a path paved with contradictions and transformation. Hegel’s notion of dialectics is used as a framework to analyze the contradictions and transformation observed in the personal and social environments. This framework not only allows the researcher to interpret the contradictions that one experiences in the academy, but, perhaps most important, it provides insights for understanding how the struggle of contraction—a dynamic and fluid process—is necessary for transformation to take place. I invite the reader to go beyond the boundaries of race, gender, identities, and philosophical perspectives—the place of struggle—to help us pave our path toward emancipation together.

The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages 53–71 Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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Introduction Please Call Me by My True Names Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow Because even today I still arrive. Look deeply: I arrive in very second to be a bud on a spring branch, to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile, learning to sing in my new nest, to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower, to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone. I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry, in order to fear and to hope. The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death of all that are alive. I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river, and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time to eat the mayfly. I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond, and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence, feeds itself on the frog. I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, my legs as thin as bamboo sticks, and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda. I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat, who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate, and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving. I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands, and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to my people, dying slowly in a forced labor camp. My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life. My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans. Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one. Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up, and so the door of my heart can be left open, the door of compassion. —Thich Nhat Hanh (1991)

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This poem was written by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, teacher, author, poet, and peace activist born in central Vietnam in 1926 (Nhat Hanh, 1991). He studied at Princeton University, taught at Cornell University and Columbia University, and was nominated by Martin Luther King, Jr. for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1967. Considered to be one of the most influential figures in Zen Buddhism, Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings appeal to people from various religious, spiritual, social, and political backgrounds. Since 1966, he has lived in exile in France, where he continues his teaching and helping refugees worldwide. According to Thich Nhat Hanh (1991), from 1976 to 1977, he led efforts to rescue Vietnamese boat people in the Gulf of Siam. He received hundreds of letters each week from Vietnamese refugees in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines. About half of the boat people did not make it to the shores; those who survived suffered thirst, hunger, and attacks by sea pirates. One day, he received a letter about a 12-year-old girl who was raped by a sea pirate. Devastated by the rape, she jumped into the ocean and drowned herself. After a long meditation, Thich Nhat Hanh derived at the following insight: If I had been born in the village of the pirate and raised in the same conditions as he was, there is a great likelihood that I would become a pirate. I saw that many babies are born along the Gulf of Siam, hundreds every day, and if we educators, social workers, politicians, and others do not do something about the situation, in twenty-five years a number of them will become sea pirates…. If you take a gun and shoot the pirate, you shoot all of us, because all of us are to some extent responsible for this state of affairs. (Thich Nhat Hanh, 1991, p. 122)

Responding to this event, Thich Nhat Hanh wrote the poem titled, Please Call Me by My True Names (Nhat Hanh, 1991), to illustrate the interconnection among the 12-year-old girl, the pirate, and himself (ourselves). I contemplated the poem as I begin writing this narrative—who am I? Particularly, what are my true names as a scholar in the academy? More important, how may this insight help me be transformed while transforming the academy? I was invited to study and write about my experience as a faculty of color in the academy. The excitement quickly faded, and I felt uneasy at the thought of having to discuss my identity—a gendered, racialized, cultural, and historical construct—as portrayed by other scholars in the field (Berry, 2006). I am a Vietnamese American female educator and scholar who is also a daughter, sister, and friend. I am also well educated and socially conscious. But I am also a student in the inner-city school where teachers moved me from classroom to classroom, not knowing where they could place me. I am also the teacher who works tirelessly to make a difference in the classroom while feeling unsupported

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by school administrators. I am also the school administrator who works hard to give students the best opportunities. Perhaps I, too, yearn to be called by my true names. Here, I reject the notion of fixed entities, which Hegel (1969) described as being and nothing and move toward the idea that both being and nothing “pass over” into another, resulting in becoming in which “each immediately vanishes in its opposite” (p. 83). Along with the other scholars in this issue, I share with you a story that came from my consciousness—a place of struggle but also a path toward liberation. I highlight specific events in my life to depict my personal dilemmas—the contradictions that have caused me to ponder—how I cope with and transcend them. The latter is most important as it has the potential to set me free from self-imposed affliction and the affliction imposed by others, both consciously and unconsciously, which may be mediated by racialized, gendered, cultural, historical, and social constructs (Berry, 2006; Nuñez, Murakami, & Ruiz, 2014). Looking into and beyond the boundaries of race, gender, identities, and philosophical perspectives, I am able to see myself for who I truly am. In the first section, I explore the concept of dialectics as theorized by Hegel (1969), how it can be used to provide a lens into my world, and elements inherent in the dialectical process that can help me move toward in transforming myself and the academy. As such, I use autoethnographical vignettes to describe my journey toward the professoriate in the academy. Using a narrative approach, I describe how I cope with the contradictions I encountered in my life, come to recognize and embrace these contradictions, and ultimately transform myself as a member of the academy. Implications for members in the academy, particularly those coping with the challenges and contradictions that exist within the academy, are presented. Theoretical Framework Being, Nothing, and Becoming The historical roots of dialectics, a view that reality is the dynamic interplay of opposing forces, began with two philosophers from the East and the West: Lao Tzu from ancient China and Heraclitus from ancient Greece. According to Taoism, “Reality is a process of unity in which opposing forces are inseparable at the same time that they are oppositional” (Baxter & Montgomery, 1996, p. 19). Working independently, Heraclitus from Greece preached his belief that “reality was a process of ongoing flux and change in which everything is both in a condition of coming to be and ceasing to be” (Baxter & Montgomery, 1996, p. 20). However, the

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ideas of contradictions or opposites, as conceived by Western philosophy, can be traced back to Immanual Kant and G. W. F. Hegel. Hegel (1969) conceptualized the contradiction of thoughts and the resolution of this contradiction using three elements: being, nothing, and becoming. Being is characterized as a thought content that “has no diversity within itself, nor any with a reference outwards” (Hegel, 1969, p. 82). However, being is only meaningful in opposition to another concept, nothing. Nothing is defined as complete emptiness, the absence of content. Hegel argued that being, in the absence of nothing, does not exist. Therefore, being and nothing are inseparable. Becoming is the unity of being and nothing, consisting of elements found in both being and nothing: What is the truth is neither being nor nothing, but that being–does not pass over but has passed over–into nothing, and nothing into being. But it is equally true that they are not undistinguished from each other, that, on the contrary, they are not the same, that they are absolutely distinct, and yet that they are inseparable and that each immediately vanishes in its opposite. Their truth is, therefore, this movement of the immediate vanishing of the one in the other: becoming, a movement in which both are distinguished, but by a difference which has equally immediately resolved itself. (Hegel, 1969, p. 82-83)

Using this logic, Hegel responded to the paradox posted by Kant—that the world consists of contradictions that cannot be resolved: Since each of the two opposed sides [contradictions] contains its other within itself and neither can be thought without the other, it follows that neither of these determinations, taken alone, has truth; this belongs only to their unity. This is the true dialectical consideration of them and also the true result. (Hegel, 1969, p. 197)

However, Frederick Engels was credited for popularizing Hegel’s ideas by making the dialectical process more accessible to the interested layman. Building on Hegel’s laws of thoughts, Engels (1940) applied knowledge of the natural world to formulate three dialectical laws that can be used to analyze history, nature, and society: (a) transformation of quantity into quality and vice versa; (b) interpenetration of opposites; and (c) negation of the negation. The law of the transformation of quantity into quality and vice versa suggests that qualitative changes in nature take place as the result of quantitative changes such as adding or subtracting matter and motion. For example, by adding or removing heat, the liquid water can be transformed into its solid or gaseous state (Engels, 1940). The previous example suggests that no new quality appears unless there is a quantitative change. The law of interpenetration of opposites can be traced back to Hegel’s (1969) The Laws of Contradictions, claiming that “everything is inherently

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contradictory” (p. 439). In fact, “contradiction is the root of all movement and vitality; it is only in so far as something has a contradiction within it that it moves, has an urge and activity” (p. 439). As indicated in the following excerpt, Hegel is not simply referring to the motion of thought; he is describing the physical change and movement in space. Something moves, not because at one moment it is here and at another there, but because at one and the same moment it is here and not here, because in this “here,” it at once is and is not. The ancient dialecticians must be granted the contradictions that they pointed out in motion; but it does not follow that therefore there is no motion, but on the contrary, that motion is existent contradiction itself. (Hegel, 1969, p. 440)

Finally, the law of the negation of the negation is considered to be “the fundamental law for the construction of the whole system” (Engels, 1940, p. 26). In other words, contradictions are the forces that make things change, grow, and develop. Jordan (1967) explained this concept as follows: Contradiction becomes a mysterious entity that is enclosed in material objects and which animates them. This entity is able to negate the opposites within it, to reconcile or raise them to a higher unity, in which the contradiction is sublated—that is preserved. Thus it is able to impel change, motion, and development. (p. 176)

While Engels did not elaborate extensively on the law of negation as he did with the first two laws in his unfinished work, Dialectics of Nature (1940), he did provide concrete examples of how the law of negation can be observed in nature. The bud disappears when the blossom breaks through, and we say that the former is refuted by the latter; in the same way when the fruit comes, the blossom may be explained to be a false form of the plant’s existence, for the fruit appears as its true nature in place of the blossom. These stages are not merely differentiated; they supplant one another as being incompatible with one another. But these ceaseless activity of their own inherent nature makes them at the same time moments of organic unity, where they not merely do not contradict one another, but where one is as necessary as the other; and this equal necessity of all moments constitutes alone and thereby the life of the whole. (Hegel, 1967, p. 68)

This suggests that the natural world in which we live is not inert. In fact, it is always undergoing the process of change. The bud and the blossom are different names for different states representing the true nature of the plant’s existence. More important, the bud and the blossom are temporary

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states undergoing temporary transformation. They are also the names given to describe the plant’s existence at one time in one context. However, Hegel also pointed out that the mind may not necessarily recognize and accept this logic. Nevertheless, this logic helps us transform the affliction imposed by contradictions. But contradiction as between philosophical systems is not wont to be conceived in this way; on the one hand, the mind perceiving the contradiction does not commonly know how to relieve it or keep it free from its one-sidedness, and to recognize in what seems conflicting and inherently antagonistic the presence of mutually necessary moments. (Hegel, 1967, p. 68)

Application of Dialectics in the Social World According to Jordan (1967), Plekhanov was the first to use the expression “dialectical materialism” as a reconciliation of Karl’s Marx’s principle of materialism and Frederick Engels’ dialectical laws. Plekhanov changed the order of the laws established by Engels, making the law of the interpenetration of opposites the first of dialectical laws. Following Plekhanov’s philosophy, Lenin used these dialectical laws in the Soviet philosophy. The following example illustrates how the first law of dialectics has been applied in the social world, particularly how social class is born out of oppositional forces inherent in the class structure: For instance, Plekhanov maintained that social and economic classes are, in the non-logical sense of this expression, contradictory elements in economic and social reality and that these contradictions, inherent in the development of class societies, give rise to the struggle for existence between individuals, classes and whole societies. More generally, the polar structure of things and phenomena is responsible for the fact that by the action of antagonistic forces and tendencies, which conditions their existence, things and phenomena are inevitably transformed into their own opposites. (Jordan, 1967, p. 190)

More recently, dialectical relationships have been used to examine leadership, specifically focusing on how the relations and practices of leaders and followers are mutually constructed. For example, leaders have power over those they lead; however, this control is frequently changing and often contradictory. Followers, in contrast, are knowledgeable and often oppositional to their leaders (Collinson, 2005). Most recently, Abrams and Todd (2011) developed a White dialectics framework to support their work on cultivating antiracist beliefs and attitudes among White women. They argued that, first, it is important to recognize that “an individual’s current

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status is not static but rather a balance of forces pushing for equilibrium or change” (p. 426). Second, and perhaps most important, one must recognize the dynamic nature of the dialectical process—allowing the individual to see the multidimensionality that exists within oneself. This framework is illustrated in the following excerpt: We believe that people are better described as simultaneously endorsing I am privileged and I am not privileged rather than endorsing I am privileged or I am not privileged, where there is movement back and forth between the two [privilege and non-privilege] on a moment-to-moment basis, depending on the topic of conversation. For example, a White student may acknowledge racial privilege regarding the legal system and racial profiling but then not for access into the educational system. (Abrams & Todd, 2011, pp. 427-428, italics in original)

I am inclined to disagree with Abrams and Todd’s interpretation of the dialectic process as originally conceived by Hegel and later expanded by Engels for the following reason. In this example, two topics of conversation are presented: One pertains to the racial privilege regarding the legal system, and the other refers to the racial privilege regarding the educational system. In a true Hegelian sense, one would argue that I am privileged and I am also not privileged in both of these systems because the idea of privilege does not exist in the absence of the idea non-privilege. However, Abrams and Todd’s (2011) expansion of the dialectic process to make it more compatible with the contemporary research on White dialectics is worth noting. They maintained that “the frequency of movement, … the magnitude of movement, … the type of movement, … and the degree of tension” should be applied to study the contradictions experienced by the individual, and “the purpose is to quantify not the static location on a dialectic but the amount and degree of movement along the dialectic” (p. 428). More important, they proposed a dialectical approach that can change people’s view about themselves and those around them: Such an approach [dialectical approach] will encourage White individuals to see themselves as multifaceted beings that are not simply good or bad, racist or nonracist, but as beings who embody all the points on the spectrum. Multilateral thinking that focuses on personal strengths (a self-view as a moral, decent, and good person) and personal fears (recognizing personal micro-aggressions, prejudice, and racism) may provide White people the psychic, emotional, and spiritual space to more deeply confront, address, and overcome fears, because strengths are affirmed while fears are examined. (Abrams & Todd, 2011, p. 428)

The concept of dialectics, while conceived by numerous scholars from different traditions, maintains its utility by providing a lens into the mod-

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ern society. Although the theory points to the oppositions commonly perceived in the natural world, also known as being and nothing, the true power of dialectics rests on the understanding of the inseparable nature of these oppositional forces—the becoming of being and nothing. As shown above, dialectics has been used to provide insights into the natural events, social class structure, and human behavior. Expanding on this literature, the current study examines the extent to which dialectics can be used to facilitate personal reflection and development. Method In this chapter, I provide multiple vignettes to highlight the contradictions that I experienced on my journey toward the professoriate in the academy and how I have transformed these contradictions. This auto-ethnographic approach “inquire into the self as part of the larger sociocultural context” (Glesne, 1999, p. 181), thus allowing me to explore the social construction of myself through the sociological perspective in an authentic way (Glesne, 1999). Through this mode of inquiry, I reflected on my experiences and examined the extent to which personal, social, and cultural values influence the perceptions of my experience (Fetterman, 2009). Taking this approach, I dispelled the notion that a researcher plays an independent and objective role in her research—a decision that I admittedly struggled with in preparation for this study. However, I also recognized that this narrative allowed me to connect myself both as a researcher and subject with the reader, thus allowing the reader to experience, analyze, and interpret the events relevant to my professional life alongside me. Similar to other investigations, I began with a research problem, a theoretical framework, a research design, data-collection techniques, and an analytic approach. However, a unique feature of ethnographic study is that it “allows multiple interpretations of reality and alternative interpretations of data throughout the study” (Fetterman, 2009, pp. 543-544). Participant and Context I am a first-generation Vietnamese immigrant. I was born in Vietnam. My journey began when I fled Vietnam with my mother at age 8. We arrived in Hong Kong after spending more than 20 days at sea. I was one of the thousands of boat people who escaped Vietnam in the 1980s. My mother and I spent more than 2 years in the refugee camps in Hong Kong. I attended language classes taught in Vietnamese, Chinese, and English for 2 to 3 hours a day. However, I did not receive my first formal education in

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English (half-day classes) until we arrived in the Philippines. Although my elementary education was interrupted to say the least, I excelled in school and gained admission to attend highly selective universities. As a result of my early experiences, my research now focuses on factors associated with students’ in- and out-of-school learning experiences in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) disciplines. Researcher’s Role I was not a diarist, so I did not keep detailed notes of the events and conversations that I had with others. However, I can still recall memorable moments that marked turning points in life, some of which are still much alive in me. In contrast to my previous work focusing on quantitative research, this auto-ethnography provides the reader with information about me as a person—through my feelings, engagement, actions, and reactions to events that represent crucial moments in my academic life. It is important to acknowledge the potential biases and preconceived notions of my experiences. Data Collection and Analysis I used Fetterman’s (2009) iterative process in my data analysis. First, I identified patterns of thoughts and behaviors from past events. I began with a recall of significant events, followed by a process of compare and contrast to identify patterns among these thoughts and behaviors. I then compared my interpretation of these events, thoughts, and behaviors with the conceptual model derived from the theoretical framework. In summary, this auto-ethnographic approach provides a “thick description” to illustrate “a series of interpretations of life, of common-sense understandings, that are complex and difficult to separate from each other” (Bogdan & Biklen, 2003, p. 28). Findings Coping With Duality I began my graduate studies in educational leadership and policy analysis in 2005; it marked the beginning of my conscious effort to become an independent person and what it means to travel on a path. As the elder daughter of a Vietnamese immigrant family, I was more fortunate than

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most and enjoyed the support and resources provided by my family. It was not always easy, but my mother, a single parent, made many sacrifices to provide us with the resources I needed to be a successful and healthy adult. She gave me unconditional love, support, motivation, and, perhaps most important, the space I needed to be my own person. To this day, I am astounded by the fact that the topic of school performance, college choice, and career options never came up in our family discussions—something I have been told to be very common in the Vietnamese households. After receiving a bachelor’s degree in psychobiology and a master’s degree in education, I taught high school science in a high-need urban school in Watts, Los Angeles. I did not mind the 2-hour commute every day as I loved teaching and felt that I was contributing to the community that I knew little about. I soon realized that these students taught me more than I taught them. My life was good, as some would say; however, I was keenly aware that something was missing. Experiencing the mid-20 blues, or as I would call it Who I am Part II, I decided to go on a 6-week backpacking trip through Europe. Upon returning, I picked up my belongings and drove across the country in my silver Toyota Celica seeking to answer the existential question: Who am I Part II? Many country songs and a speeding ticket later, I arrived in a Midwestern university where I began my doctoral studies. But before I share my journey during my doctoral studies, I want to answer for the reader, “Why did I leave teaching as a public school teacher?” I left the K-12 classroom because I wanted to learn more about issues related to systemic change, particularly as it pertains to educational leadership and policy studies. My plan was to acquire this knowledge and return to the K-12 school settings, Watts to be exact. I made sure my advisor was aware of my intentions at one of our earlier meetings during my first year: “I want to be a school leader because I want to make a ‘real’ difference. I’m not sure about this research thing.” My advisor was a softspoken and mild-mannered man. Even though he was a well-respected scholar and widely known for his significant contributions to K-12 education policy, he was unassuming and always approachable. He offered a gentle smile when I shared with him that I wanted to be a practitioner rather than a researcher. In hindsight, he probably knew I would be back in his office soon after that. I had the opportunity to work on a research project led by my advisor while serving as a graduate teaching assistant with another faculty member. I left the teaching assistantship when an opportunity to work on another research project became available during my second year of graduate studies. In the same year, I also went to see my advisor and shared with him, “I changed my mind. I like doing research, and I’m ready to join the dark side.” Being the kind person who he was, he offered a gentle

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smile followed by a soft chuckle. In reality, I was 26—my brain had barely reached maturation. My experience as a high school teacher in an inner-city school shaped how I viewed and later framed issues on education reform. My time in the classroom made me frustrated and angry with the broken education system, one that provided limited opportunities for marginalized students to access the quality education to which they are entitled. Leaving the classroom behind, I was committed to acquire new skills and discover innovative practices that could be brought back to the classrooms. However, my involvement in the various research activities revived my natural curiosity for a deeper understanding of the social world. Before I knew it, my desire to learn and generate new knowledge took over. Am I a practitioner or researcher? This dilemma carried with me throughout my graduate studies. It is one of many dualities presented in my life. During graduate school, I became more conscious of the extent to which duality played a role in my decision-making processes. Being away from the classroom, research wrenched my thirst for knowledge. The support and mentorship of my advisor, mentors, and peers and subsequent success in completing my doctoral degree had facilitated my career choice, but this internal dialogue was the first conscious decision that forced me to confront my disposition and made me aware of my career choice. This was an uncomfortable position where I felt like I was abandoning my roots. Worst of all, I felt I had betrayed my students (and many like them) who waited for my return. I played the same dialogue over and over again in my head in the days, weeks, and months to come, “She’s not coming back” as I sat in my comfortable office, sipping my cup of tea and diligently working on my research. The affliction embedded in the notion of duality was driving my life— to be a practitioner is not to be a researcher, and to be a researcher is not to be a practitioner. To be a practitioner meant having a physical presence in the classroom or at a school site. More important, though, to be a practitioner meant having more opportunities to develop relationships and interact with students, teachers, and school leaders. I envisioned that by being in the same space with them, I would continue to be a part of their lives and they in mine. However, being a researcher meant investing my time, resources, and intellectual capability in conducting relevant investigations that would result in the generation of new knowledge and innovative practice that could be shared with members in the academy. The thirst for knowledge generation in me was so strong that I often overlooked the implications of my research findings, and I was content to conduct research for the sake of conducting research. Understanding that I could not be in two places at once, I coped by falling back on the rationale that I often use

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when I find myself in a bind: just go with the flow. But I was also aware that this explanation was far too simplistic, not satisfactory, and not true. I had made a decision, but in doing so, I felt that I had not fully understood the reasons or implications of my decision. They arrived in my consciousness a few years later. Dual experience of this kind creates ambiguity and multiplicity that can lead one to feeling uneasy, but it also serves as a catalyst for self-reflection. As Yerushalmi (2011) noted, “it is precisely this kind of experience which facilitates analytic insight: as analysts caught up in the evolution of transference—countertransference relations, it induces us to stop for a moment and reflect on the complexity and significance of our experience” (p. 6). Recognizing the Contradictions in Me and Others Having enjoyed graduate school and the passion for conducting research that I had developed, it was expected that I would immerse myself in the environments where I could continue engaging in research. I envisioned myself being a university faculty member or a researcher at one of the national laboratories. My attraction to the field came from the desire to generate new knowledge that would result in mobilizing social change and to work with those who share common goals. My plans were supported by faculty mentors and peers in the program. However, I was also eager to go back to California—to come home to my family, my friends, the food, and, of course, the weather. At this point, it was clear to me that I wanted and needed the support of my family and loved ones. After careful consideration and perhaps to the disappointment of my faculty mentors, I accepted a faculty position at a teaching-focused institution in California. My family and friends were ecstatic to know that I would be returning to California. It was one of the most difficult decisions that I had to make— one that still lingers on my mind to this day. My first few years in the academy were a success for the most part. I enjoyed teaching courses in the teacher preparation and leadership programs. I continued to be productive with various scholarly activities. I appreciated the friendships provided by colleagues with whom I had the pleasure to work. Above all, I loved being close to my family and the community in which I grew up. But this is only half of the story. Some moments made me question my own morality and the integrity of those with whom I interacted. The following incidence illustrates this. I received a telephone call from a colleague in another department telling me the proposal we submitted was funded. A few weeks earlier, I had accepted the invitation to participate on the project. As a result, I prepared the section to be included in the proposal. However, after reviewing the proposal

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draft, I expressed my concerns with the workload specified in the proposal. Consequently, I withdrew from the project. Professionally, I thought it was the best decision for all involved. I communicated my well wishes to the team in moving forward and politely requested that my contributions be excluded from the submission. To my surprise, my colleague explained to me that it was appropriate to submit what I had written because it had been revised (assuming to achieve language consistency), and we had met to discuss the project. I was speechless. While I was disappointed by my colleague’s decision, I was not surprised that this had happened. So instead of showing my disappointment and frustration, I calmly responded, “I trust your professional and ethical judgment.” This incident depicts my exposure to a less than positive side of the academy—the side in which my otherwise kind, intelligent, and talented colleagues have their professional judgments clouded as they experience the pressures to be productive in a highly competitive climate. In recalling this incident, it made me reflect on the preparation I received from my graduate studies—explicit and implicit curriculum. Not only did my mentors teach me about the technical skills (i.e., explicit knowledge) in conducting research, they also taught me professional etiquette (i.e., implicit knowledge). The latter was learned through an extensive period of induction, implicitly expressed through my mentors’ mannerism and interactions with fellow colleagues. I exercised this unspoken principle liberally, always erring on the safe side to avoid miscommunication and misunderstanding with my colleagues. The incident illustrates a loss of innocence as I experienced the other side of the academy. This loss of innocence did not come from my naiveté in thinking that my colleagues should have the professional etiquette or moral and ethical standards expected of them. Instead, this loss of innocence came from the realization that they had failed the test. This experience served as a reminder to uphold professional integrity even in a highly competitive climate. It also provided an opportunity for me to learn about my colleagues. But perhaps most important, it fostered reflection and personal growth. For example, from my interactions with mentors and colleagues in the academy, I learned the techniques to be a skillful researcher, the dedication to be an effective instructor, and the patience to be a supportive colleague. However, my colleagues instilled in me the seeds of fear, despair, and anger. Observing the many long hours that my mentors dedicated toward their research and scholarly activities taught me the value of having a strong work ethic and an enduring commitment to the discovery of new knowledge—the foundation I used for building my own research. I also inherited from my mentors the strength, which I do not hesitate to exercise (consciously and unconsciously), when interacting with those who question my beliefs and knowledge. They also

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instilled in me the competitive beliefs and practices commonly exercised and reinforced in the academy—the desire to be a scholar among scholars. I see my mentors in me, and I am in them. Overall, I have been fortunate to work with wonderful colleagues who are supportive, caring, and embracing. The hallway conversations and the frequent office visits bring humanity and humility to life in the academy. Hearing about my colleagues’ life stories, what they did over the break, or as simple as what they ate for dinner the night before reminded me that they too are human. It is also through these informal exchanges that I acquired the capacity to listen, the ability care, and an open heart capable of acceptance. However, through these interactions, I also learned about my colleagues’ evaluative judgments of others and the inclination to reject individuals whose dispositions differ from those of their own. I recognized that the desirable attributes I value in my colleagues are also attributes instilled in me. At the same time, the unwholesome seeds such as jealousy, anger, and despair in my colleagues are also in me. For example, while I perceive myself to be a caring person and a supportive colleague, I too have acted unkindly when I did not get my way. Thus, my colleagues are reflected in me, and I am reflected in them. Hegel’s logic (1969) warned about making wrongful distinctions about these external attributes: The positive and negative are the same … it is not an external comparison that should be drawn between them any more than between any other categories; rather must they be considered in themselves, that is, we have to consider what their own reflection is. But we have found that each is essentially the mere show or illusory being of itself in the other and is itself the positing of itself as the other. (pp. 435-436)

Coming to this realization, I am no longer disappointed and angry with my colleague whom I described in the earlier vignette. The insight on the inter-being between them and me has made true transformation possible. Transforming Myself and the Academy I grew up quickly in the academy under the protection, nurturance, and guidance provided by my mentors, colleagues, and students. While being a faculty member, I had the opportunity to teach courses for students in the doctoral program. I cherished the time spent with teachers, assistant principals, principals, assistant superintendents, and other school district leaders to learn about their work and programs at their sites. While the content of discussions mainly focused on the research aspect of their work, I saw these exchanges as a window into world of my students, fellow

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teachers, and the school administrators with whom they work. Just before class in the beginning of one semester, I thought to myself: How lucky am I? I get to interact with the current and future school leaders whose decisions can impact the teachers and students with whom they work with. Now how do I want to spend my time with these students? The two and a half hours that I have with them every week for 16 weeks must count! What lessons do I want to teach? What messages should I convey? Most importantly, what impact will their experiences in my class have on the students they serve? What control do I have and what control do I not have? I suppose I could begin by offering good instruction.

But what is good instruction? I began by sharing the skills and knowledge needed to make informed decisions that affect teaching and learning. But everyone knows that good teaching requires much more than the transmission of technical skills from the teacher to the student. I sought to understand their challenges in order to offer proper advice and guidance to improve their learning experience in the course and the program. As a result, the students and I spent many hours in my office discussing their personal lives, professional work, and apprehension toward completing their dissertations. Through these interactions, I became acquainted with my students—gaining a deeper understanding of their fear, anxiety, hopes, and aspirations—many of which were similar to mine. Both the researcher and the practitioner are much alive in me! The practitioner in me has not died; instead, it has been manifested and transmitted through my work with my graduate students and their work with the teachers and students at their school sites. It is clear that my work as a practitioner and researcher is not and never will be finished. In fact, “these stages are not merely differentiated; they supplant one another as being incompatible with one another. But the ceaseless activity of their own inherent nature makes them at the same time moments of an organic unity, where they not merely do not contradict one another, but where one is as necessary as the other” (Hegel, 1967, p. 68). I am the continuation of my mentors, colleagues, and scholars who came before me, the same way that my students are my continuation. Discussion of Findings The Challenges in Moving Beyond the Boundaries of Separation Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Call Me by My True Names   69 Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up, and so the door of my heart can be left open, the door of compassion. .

Moving beyond the boundaries of race, gender, identities, and philosophical perspectives is a challenge that many face even when they recognize the multiple identities that move them beyond the static boundaries given to them (Nieto, 2006). For example, using narratives, Cooper, Massey, and Graham (2006) shared their different perspectives working in a Historically Black University and acknowledged the complexity of their own experiences filled with “misconceptions about being White, being Black, and the conflicting understandings of trying to understand” (p. 134). They concluded that to “understand the larger picture, we first must understand individual” (p. 134). In another investigation, Noel (2010) examined her work in the community that is different from those of her own through the lens of race, class, privilege, and power. In her candid reflection, she admitted that “I still have hesitancies about how to become integrated into this school and its community” (p. 219). Similar to these scholars, I have examined the contradictions and distinctions to help me make sense of my interactions in the social world. My experience is not, I have decided, easily understood through identity formation or redefinition of self, using the static construction being and nothing. I must move beyond the superficial boundaries prescribed by societal norms, cultural values, and ideological perspectives—beyond the concepts of being and nothing—and into becoming. My colleagues and I are one. My cries and laughs are also their cries and laughs. My joy and pain are also their joy and pain. I encourage my readers to look deeper; going beyond the boundaries of race, gender, identities, and philosophical perspectives to see themselves for whom they truly are—they are many, yet they are one. I believe that true emancipation is only possible when one can overcome notions and ideologies construed from false distinctions. Finding the Place of Struggle and Liberation Through the dialectical perspective, I observe that “contradictions are inherent in social life and not evidence of failure or inadequacy in a person or in a social system. In fact, contradictions are the basic ‘drivers’ of change” (Baxter & Montgomery, 1996, p. 7). This concept is important, but perhaps the most difficult to grasp, as it moves from being and nothing and into becoming—thus paving the path toward liberation. While not widely discussed in the dialectics literature, Hegel’s (1967) example of

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“the bud disappear when the blossom breaks through … where they not merely do not contradict one another, but where one is as necessary as the other; and this equal necessity of all moments constitutes alone and thereby the life of the whole” (p. 68) is a reminder to look deeply to understand the essence of all matters. While my story illustrates the law of negation, which can be observed in nature, I wonder whether the same argument can be made for the social world. For example, in the role of the mentor and mentee, teacher and student, and parent and child, left and right, right and wrong, Black and White, rich and poor, each role is distinct from each other. The mentor and mentee roles do not contradict one another; instead, they are necessary for each of their own existence, complementary in nature. In other words, the concept of a mentor does not exist in the absence of a mentee. Adopting this viewpoint allowed me to first accept the contradictions that lie within me and between me and others. Second, it moved me beyond the false distinctions that created barriers between me and others. According to Hegel (1969), “Contradiction is the root of all movement and vitality; it is only in so far as something has a contradiction within it that it moves, has an urge and contradiction is the root of all movement and vitality activity” (p. 439). Thus, I must begin with the contradictions presented to me because from these opposing forces, liberation is possible. Change is derived from the interactions between opposing forces or what seem to be contradictory elements. Coming from a different school of thought, Thich Nhat Hanh’s (1991) poem also alluded to the interconnectedness of all living beings—I can see myself in the names I give to others. In fact, through this insight, I can awaken and cultivate compassion for those with whom I interact. Conclusion and Implications Using an auto-ethnographic approach, I portrayed my journey toward the professoriate in the academy—a path paved with contradictions and transformation. Hegel’s notion of dialectics was used to analyze the contradictions and transformation observed in my personal and social environments. Most important, this framework provided insights for understanding how the struggle of contraction—a dynamic and fluid process—was necessary for transformation to take place. I argued that I must go beyond the boundaries of personal identities and philosophical perspectives—the place of struggle—to help find a path toward emancipation. Of course, it is easier said than done because daily challenges present themselves; more often these experiences contradict with core values, beliefs, and aspirations. However, Hegel’s ideas of

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dialectics suggest that in these moments, change is possible. Perhaps I now can take an active role in this change by first calling myself and others by my/their true name(s). References Abrams, E., & Todd, N. (2011). White dialectics as multidimensional, contextual, and transformational. The Counseling Psychologist, 39(3), 423-437. Baxter, L. A., & Montgomery, B. M. (1996). Relating: Dialogues and dialectics. New York, NY: Guilford Press. Berry, T. R. (2006). Introduction: What the fuck, now what? The social and psychological dilemmas of multidimensional being as a woman of color in the academy. In T. R. Berry & N. D. Mizelle (Eds.), From oppression to grace: Women of color and their dilemmas within the academy (pp. xi-xix). Sterling, VA: Stylus. Bogdan, R., & Biklen, S. (2003). Qualitative research in education: An introduction to theory and methods. Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon. Collinson, D. (2005). Dialectics of leadership. Human Relations, 58(11), 1419-1442. Cooper, J. E., Massey, D., & Graham, A. (2006). Being “Dixie” at a historically Black university: A White faculty member’s exploration of whiteness through the narratives of two Black faculty members. The Negro Educational Review, 57(1-2), 117-135. Engels, F. (1940). Dialectics of nature (C. Dutt, Trans.). New York, NY: International Publishers. Fetterman, D. M. (2009). Ethnography. In L. Bickman & D. J. Rog (Eds.), The Sage handbook of applied social research methods. Los Angeles, CA: SAGE. Glesne, C. (1999). Becoming qualitative researchers: An introduction. New York, NY: Longman. Hegel, G. W. F. (1967). The phenomenology of mind. New York, NY: Harper & Row. Hegel, G. W. F. (1969). Hegel’s science of logic. London: George Allen & Unwin. Jordan, Z. A. (1967). The evolution of dialectical materialism. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press. Nhat Hanh, Thich. (1991). Peace is every step: The path of mindfulness in everyday life. New York, NY: Bantam Books. Nieto, S. (2006). A Nuyorican in the academy. In T. R. Berry & N. D. Mizelle (Eds.), From oppression to grace: Women of color and their dilemmas within the academy (pp. 244-255). Sterling, VA: Stylus. Noel, J. (2010). A critical interrogation of privilege, race, class, and power in a university faculty–urban community. Urban Review, 42, 210-220. Nunez, A. M., Murakami, E., & Ruiz, E. (2014). Interrupting the usual in the academy: Creating a sense of belonging among Latina faculty. In G. Jean-Marie, C. Grant, & B. Irby (Eds.), The duality of women scholars of color: Transforming and being transformed in the academy (pp. 97-118). Research on Women and Education Series. Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Yerushalmi, H. (2011). On paradoxes and the experience of duality. International Forum of Psychoanalysis, 20(1), 6-17.

Chapter 4

Transcending “Other” by Building Bridges in Pursuit of Social Justice Experience of a Caribbean Female Faculty in the Academy Gaëtane Jean-Marie

Abstract This self-study draws on an auto-ethnographical approach (Anderson, 2006; Ellis & Bochner, 2000) that chronicled my experiences as a Haitianborn, naturalized American citizen on what it means to be a Black female and a foreigner in and outside the academy. Additionally, the findings also provide insights into my orientation toward and advocacy of social justice to build bridges for a better society. I examined three critical encounters in my life: (a) early experiences of marginalization (i.e., foreigner status), (b) formation of an orientation toward social justice, and (c) engaging in social justice work in the academy. A common thread that is interwoven within my story is an Afro-centric communal philosophy, “I am because we are” (Press, 2011), about building bridges while creating spaces to celebrate and embrace differences. The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages 73–92 Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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Introduction While there are few women of color in academe (Glazer-Raymo, 1999, 2008; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011), even fewer Afro-Caribbean women are among the ranks of faculty and have obtained tenure and promotion in predominantly White institutions (Alfred, 2001, 2011; Betty, 2007). Being Black, female, and foreign is part of my identity as a native from Haiti, located in the West Indies. Since migrating to the United States in the late 1970s, not only did I encounter gender and racial bias, the label “foreigner” has been ascribed to me to underscore that I am a “stranger,” “other,” and “lower on the totem pole” in the U.S social stratification. Although a naturalized citizen since college, these efforts to denigrate me as “other” were attempts to silence my voice (e.g., “I’m to be seen and not heard”), but I never acquiesced to the subtle or explicit practices to marginalize my status of being Black, female, and foreign. I am told confession is good for the soul. If that is the case, I confess that writing the findings for my auto-ethnography study was more of an undertaking than I anticipated. My initial thought was, “Of course, I can do this.” Similar to a good researcher, I mapped out my research process. But I had some trepidation about narrating my lived experiences in the form of life notes or a narrative (Simmons, 2007). In a way, I attribute my apprehension about the experiences I share in these pages to things I have not talked about in depth until recently, especially my stories of marginalization (Jean-Marie, 2009). In pursuing this self-study, I felt a nudge to reflect on my experiences as a Caribbean immigrant and the significance in my life—the choices I have made and how they have shaped who I am as a woman—an activist, an educator, and a researcher. Despite my trepidation, I allowed myself to be transparent while curious about what would unfold during my self-study. Another challenge I encountered in working on this research project was its nontraditional nature from research I typically conduct. First, I am never directly the subject of a study. As a qualitative researcher, I enjoy studying people and making meaning of their lived experiences through the lens of a particular inquiry. However, in this case, I am turning the “mirror inward” (Black & Murtadha, 2007) as self-introspection and thereby pondered what stories I would tell. Second, the idea of self-study seemed intimidating, yet liberating. Given my busy professional life, I do not always take time to reflect on my life, in particular my past and its influence on my present. However, engaging in self-reflection was free reign to take stock of my life as I approach a new milestone. Last, the reflexive nature of this study affirmed the value I place on building relationships across cultural lines and groups.

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Leaning toward wisdom allowed the text to unfold, hence guide the direction of this self-study. Once I surrendered, the flow of ideas, memories, thoughts, and focus of literature coalesced to construct my narrative in the ensuing pages. I begin with a poem, an exercise I use with students to share their autobiography through the use of “I Am” statements: Who Am I? I am a descendant of slaves from Africa, a beautiful woman. But through the Diaspora, my birthplace is Haiti, land of the 1st independent country Oh, Toussaint Louverture—freedom fighter … the slave who defeated Napoleon I am from the Garden State of NJ, achieving the American dream … land of opportunity. I am from Brick City, a troubled place yet full of resilient peopleblack people, mother, father, children and community Yes, I am from Newark, NJ. I am from the womb of Grace Desius and the seed of Joseph Jean-Marie The Jean-Marie clan—11 siblings, given the name, Gaëtane which is French/Italian. I am the 5th child, independent, ambitious, family-oriented and love people, my people, all people. I am from a generation of famers and land owners—strong willed and doers of good for family and humanity … be good to self and others. I am from a Third World County but a beautiful place, lively people & rich foods (i.e., beans & rice, plantains & lamb, mangos and etc.). She’s been broken, but will recover. I am because we are.

What I have learned about this exercise is its ability to empower individuals through storytelling poetry. Andersen and Collins (2007) assert, “personal documents tap the private, reflective dimensions of life, enabling us to see the inner lives of others and, in the process, revealing our own lives more completely” (p. 15). I use this reflective activity to build community in the university classroom, and it provides an opportunity for students to reflect on their identity. Occasionally some students hesitate to write about their background, but once they engage the process, powerful stories deeply rooted in cultural traditions result. As an educator and a researcher, I continue to build a repertoire of strategies with the aim to help aspiring and practicing school leaders analyze the social order and understand how it is constantly being constructed. A parallel aim is to help students have a better grasp of their changing world by inviting them to

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confront relationships they share with others situated in the intersection of race/ethnicity, gender, class, and sexual orientation. The purpose of this self-study is to chronicle my experiences as a Haitian-born immigrant living in the United States and my orientation toward and advocacy of social justice to build bridges for a better society. Using an auto-ethnography approach (Anderson, 2006; Ellis & Bochner, 2000), I examined three periods in my life: (a) early experiences of marginalization (i.e., foreigner status), (b) formation of an orientation toward social justice, and (c) engaging in social justice work in the academy. A common thread interwoven within my story is an Afro-centric communal philosophy (e.g., I am because we are) about building bridges while creating spaces to celebrate and embrace differences. Literature Review A Nation of Immigrants in the United States Considered a melting point, the United States prides itself on being a nation of immigrants. People of all races, religious backgrounds, and nationalities immigrate to the United States in search of freedom and opportunities to live better lives (Madrid, 2007; Parrillo, 2003), achieving the American dream. For many, the American dream is within reach, whereas others, such as immigrants, confront social barriers (i.e., discrimination, racial tensions, inequalities, etc.) in their pursuit of the dream. Additionally, they must contend with the racial structure and normative assumptions they encounter on arrival; however, the racialized experiences of people from different immigrant groups also vary in factors such as gender, class background, English-speaking ability, educational level, religion, and generational status (Adams, Bell, & Griffin, 2007; Portes & Rumbaut, 2001). These factors are exacerbated by the ways immigrants are constructed racially (Portes & Rumbaut, 2001). As depicted in history and prevalent today, incorporating immigrants has never been easy; the fear of immigrants (i.e., foreigners) and the rejection of their customs and ways of life have created anti-immigration attitudes that are increasingly being expressed today (Rubin, 2007). According to Anderson and Collins (2007), “within the United States, race, class, and gender constitute fundamental categories that serve as basic conduits for social inequalities (p. 268). Similar to native-born Blacks, immigrants often have to cope with these social inequalities. In further support, Lorde (2007) asserts, at the margin of society during much of American history is the social construction of groups that have all occupied positions of dependency or inferiority in society at large. While relating

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across differences is critical to human survival (Andersen & Collins, 2007), the historical divisions that exist among nonimmigrant and immigrant groups often make this (i.e., social relations among groups) unattainable. Social Construction of Difference: The Struggles for Immigrants Throughout much of American history, human differences have been dichotomized in simplistic opposition to each other: dominant versus subordinate, good versus bad, haves versus have-nots, superior versus inferior, and native versus foreign (Lorde, 2007; Madrid, 2007). Given their social status during much of Western history, Blacks and Third World people, working-class people, older people, and women have been subjected to discrimination and exclusion in various forms (Parrillo, 2003). As Lorde (2007) argues, “There must always be some group of people who, through systemized oppression, can be made to feel surplus, to occupy the place of the dehumanized inferior” (p. 53). From a sociological perspective, in particular conflict theory, which examines the ongoing tensions between native born (i.e., nonimmigrant) and foreign born (i.e., immigrant), differences in culture among these two groups have prevented any unifying racial bond from forming (Parrillo, 2003). For example, “French-speaking Caribbean (i.e. Haitians and Jamaicans), people who immigrated from the West Indies to the U.S. in substantial numbers. “Most of them are darkskinned; encountering racial discrimination in housing, jobs and other social interactions is a common (though) new experience for them” (Parrillo, 2003, p. 411). They face the struggle of social and economic integration into American life (Gonzalez & Fernandez, 2003; Waters, 2001) and, as a result, will settle into highly segregated neighborhoods. Caribbean immigrants often are contained in a social structure that perpetuates inequality, and their experiences are compounded by a racialized subordinating discourse in the United States. Further, they are invisible to mainstream America, understating their experience of confronting the assimilation process (Waters, 2001). Capturing this more closely, Madrid (2007) argues that immigrants are often labeled “other” to categorize them as unacceptable: “Otherness means feeling excluded, closed out, precluded, even disdained and scorned. It produces a sense of isolation, of apartness, of disconnectedness, of alienation” (p. 19). Marginalized groups such as immigrants have to be purveyors in two camps, which creates a constant drain of energy. In camp one, they are exposed to mainstream culture, legitimizing a Eurocentric, Western viewpoint, and their adaptation is essential to survival. In camp two, because they do not have authentic membership in mainstream society, they have restricted access to resources

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and often face structural barriers to attain a better quality of life (Lorde, 2007). Social indicators (education, income, occupation, housing, etc.) do not provide an optimistic view that significant improvement will occur for immigrants because many Americans—White and Black—still refuse to accept immigrants as fellow citizens (Parillo, 2003). As more immigrants migrate to the United States, their increased presence will diversify every aspect of society (i.e., community, private and public sector, workforce, schools, etc.). According to Ryu (2010): Racial/ethnic and cultural diversity has been an ongoing source of American pride and strength. Immigrants were the foundation of U.S. diversity and today, in the face of well educated retiring baby boomers, an immigrant workforce is an essential ingredient in the nation’s ability to sustain its economic competitiveness. Over the coming decades, partly fueled by immigration, the nation will become even more diverse. (p. 26)

This burgeoning of immigrants, such as the Caribbean people, in the United States provides opportunities to improve social relations among those born in the United States and those who are not. However, a scarcity of literature exists on the experiences of Caribbean people that explore endemic inequalities and patterns of marginalization that persist in their desire for social acceptance in American society. Methods To capture my life experiences, I draw on an auto-ethnography approach (Anderson, 2006; Ellis & Bochner, 2000) to chronicle significant experiences during my adolescent years as an immigrant in the United States, formation of my social justice activism, and scholarship. Consistent with qualitative inquiry rooted in traditional symbolic interactionism (Anderson, 2006), the term “auto-ethnography” has been in use for at least two decades and includes a wide range of research and writing approaches that connect the personal to the cultural (Ellis & Bochner 2000). According to Richardson (2000), “auto-ethnographies are highly personalized, revealing texts in which authors tell stories about their own lived experiences, relating the personal to the cultural” (p. 931). The five key features of analytic auto-ethnography that I propose include (a) complete member researcher (CMR) status, (b) analytic reflexivity, (c) narrative visibility of the researcher’s self, (d) dialogue with informants beyond the self, and (e) commitment to theoretical analysis (Anderson, 2006). This research enabled me to think through influential moments in my life, which included some of my earliest memories about my schooling experience and living next door to a racist family. Through my reflections,

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I wrote about difficulties and painful moments as well as the joys and key turning points. Through the process of writing, the past became more meaningful. As Van Manen (1990) explained, “writing became more meaningful (p. 124). Through my writings, I relived pieces of my life and reignited memories and events, including how it enacted my social justice activism and change. Poststructuralist theories offer support to auto-ethnography research approaches by first directing us to “understand ourselves reflexively as persons writing from particular positions as specific times; and second, it frees us from trying to write a single text in which we say everything at once to everyone” (Richardson, 2000, p. 929). Writing from a particular position (i.e., childhood experiences on marginalization and its influence) provided me an opportunity to reflect on a particular period in my life that played a significant role in my adult life (i.e., professional career). Specifically, I’ve experienced marginalization and being labeled because of my immigrant background. However, since childhood, I challenged the labeling others would impose on me. Data Collection and Analysis Data collected for this self-study included conversations (i.e., field notes) with an older sibling (3 years older), which meant that we attended K-12 school together, a high school friend, and a daughter of my parents’ nextdoor neighbor who at one time was prejudiced against my family. During my summer vacation in July 2011, I had the opportunity to visit with her to reminisce on the good years together. The data collected from these external sources provided additional perspectives and contextual information to help [me] investigate and examine my subjectivity (Reissman, 1993). In addition to old journals I’ve kept for keepsake, in particular my faded blue notebook for 4 months, I wrote about my childhood experiences as an immigrant in the United States. To analyze the multiple data sources collected for the study, I read and re-read my field notes and two journals to bring into light the structure and content of the narratives (Reissman, 1993). I examined specific events that had a profound effect on my life as an adolescent; the vivid accounts were supported by the conversations (i.e., field notes) I had with my sibling and school friend. This research included visiting with my next-door neighbor and reflecting on how our families’ relationship changed over time. What ensues in the following section is how I threaded my analysis and interpretation of my behaviors, thoughts, and experiences to provide portraiture of my adolescent life as an immigrant in the United States.

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Findings Three major findings emerged from the self-study, with subfindings that are explored in depth in the ensuing discussion. The first finding, early experiences of marginalization, provides insights into my adolescent experiences in school and community as an immigrant. These early experiences heightened my awareness about race and immigrant issues in the United States. The second finding, formation of an orientation toward social justice, depicts my engagement in critical literature to develop and influence my philosophical beliefs about equity issues. Last, engaging in social justice in the academy focuses on my commitment to advance equity issues through pedagogy, research, and active involvement in my local community. Herein lie outcomes that are premised on a collective responsibility to engage in social justice work through two dimensions, professionally and personally. Early Experiences of Marginalization As I reflect on my life since migrating to the United States, my childhood experiences include many memories of marginalization, in particular being labeled “different,” “foreigner,” “boat person,” or “illegal immigrant.” My most vivid recollection centered on three significant moments that cast light on my Black immigrant status. Transitioning from the Haitian to the U.S. educational system, I had ups and downs associated with my immigrant status in the United States. Encountering Racism: My Family’s Daily Struggle After 3 months of migrating to the United States and living in a cramped apartment, my parents purchased a home to better accommodate my large family of 11. We moved to a diverse community in inner-city New Jersey and were the only immigrant family living in the neighborhood. Our neighbors were Italian, and they were unwelcoming. They often made that blatantly clear. For many years, they were prejudiced against us, evidenced by their stares or comments directed at my family (i.e., “boat people,” “go back to your country,” “foreigner,” etc.). We were always under their watchful eyes making sure we didn’t walk across their yard, intentionally or accidentally. They put up a high-boarded fence because we shared an adjacent backyard. Occasionally, they would complain to my parents or one of my older siblings, falsely accusing us of things we did not do. As a child, I struggled to understand why they were

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prejudiced against us. My siblings and I would ask our parents, “What’s the problem?” “Why don’t they like us?” My parents would reply, “Don’t worry about it…. You should just pray for them.” But I did worry, and I could not comprehend the racism. We kept our distance, but that was never enough. They didn’t want us to be their neighbor; so, they made it a point to remind us of that often. This would go on for many years, but it would change after a family death. About 10 years or so later, the family patriarch died from a long battle with cancer. My parents learned of this and went to comfort them. My mother, in particular, provided several meals to help them through their mourning. That particular gesture became a turning point. They did not anticipate my family’s supportive response in their time of mourning. I remember that day so vividly because it confirmed for me that cultural barriers can be overcome. When my mother, a sibling, and I went next door to deliver the meals and offer our condolences, the matriarch was surprised to see us; with tears rolling down her face, she hugged us and invited us into their home—the first time ever! For several minutes, she thanked my mother profusely for reaching out to her in this moment of sorrow. She did not expect such an act of kindness given their prejudices. From that moment to present, our families became great neighbors, as we shared memorable moments—graduations, weddings, deaths, and children’s births over the years. Here was a family that did not want us to step on their grass, now inviting us into their home, and we invited them to our home. Every time I go home to visit my family during the summer, I visit with them, and hugs and kisses are exchanged. My mom and siblings often tell me that they always ask about me and my other siblings who have since relocated to other states. As an adolescent, this experience was educational on many levels. I learned about how graceful my parents were throughout those difficult years living next to a neighbor who hated us. Our parents did not speak ill of them but rather would often say, “Pray for them.” I also learned a tragic event (i.e., death or illness) has the power to break down barriers, even if it takes a decade to do. Finally, this experience coupled with others would inform my development as a social justice educator. The Stigma of Race: Life in School In addition to the prejudice my family experienced in our community, I also experienced prejudice in school. My siblings and I encountered prejudice based on our race/ethnicity and cultural background in school. I was teased because I didn’t speak English fluently and had an accent.

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“Foreigner,” “boat people,” and “You’re a stranger,” were common refrains. Our parents would affirm and reiterate that we were to focus on getting a good education. They always reminded us that they migrated to this country so they could give us a better quality of life. Given their limited educational attainment, they “preached” about education and did not accept anything less. However, they couldn’t always shield us from the negative schooling experiences that we would encounter. When I immigrated to the United States, I aspired to achieve the American dream. I did not know exactly what that was at the age of 7, but I believed that education was the great equalizer. I firmly believed that doing well in school was the key to success. But it was not that easy. I often felt like an outsider within (Collins, 2002; McDemmond, 1999) because of the mistreatment by some teachers and classmates. I had a few teachers who saw my potential and encouraged me to do well. So, I did. But there was always that nagging feeling when I saw classmates who were not provided with assistance and guidance to overcome their obstacles. There was a pervasive belief by some teachers that some children will not succeed; many teachers’ and administrators’ demeanor reflected this perception about the “kids they gave up on.” As an adolescent, I struggled with accepting how schools would elevate students who were motivated to learn and marginalize others who struggled to succeed. If you were smart or demonstrated some proclivity toward intelligence, teachers eagerly called on you in class and heralded your academic success. This was not the America I believed as the land of opportunity that espoused the fundamental American values of equity, liberty, and democracy (Quantz, Cambron-McCabe, & Dantley, 1991). There was something wrong with an educational system that did not vigilantly advocate for educational equity (Singleton & Linton, 2006). Early on, I was learning that schools privileged some and marginalized others who were often labeled a deviant or failure. This belief was reinforced as I watched my oldest brother’s negative experience in an educational system that failed him. Who Will Advocate for the Defenseless? My oldest brother, Nego, experienced the largest brunt of marginalization. First, children and adults would make fun of his birth name, Nego. He was named after Abednego, who is one of the characters besides Shadrach and Meshach in the biblical Hebrew book of Daniel The constant degrading of his name such as Negro, Niggah, Nigger, or Niger was insensitive and hurtful. Although he enjoyed meeting and being around

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others, he was often rejected because, like me, he didn’t speak English fluently. Second, he had a learning disability that went undetected for a long time. When we immigrated to the United States, he was old enough to attend high school while my other siblings and I attended middle or elementary school. My parents were unaware of his learning disability and therefore enrolled him in a traditional high school with the expectation that he would acclimate to school. My parents held U.S. schools in the highest regards and believed the system would protect all children. But that didn’t happen. As a high school student, not only was my brother challenged to learn a new language, but he was experiencing academic difficulties. His teachers and my parents believed his academic challenges stemmed from having to learn a second language and not from the presence of a learning disability. As an English-language learner (ELL) student, he was bypassed for consideration as a student with a disability. It took about 2 years before he was evaluated, and when he was, it was concluded that being in a traditional high school was not meeting his learning needs. My parents’ limited English skills, coupled with the lack of knowledge about resources to assist my brother, made it unlikely for him to receive the early intervention to address his needs. It was too late. With 2 years in a traditional classroom, his motor skills and knowledge regressed, and he was further behind in school. He was eventually pulled out of school and placed in a special needs facility. His life was forever changed, and consequently he would not grow up to be self-sufficient. As a child, seeing the events of my brother’s life unfold before me increased my determination to “fight” any systemic efforts that would deprive me of an educational opportunity. I channeled my brother’s energy to connect with people, but the difference was that I could use my voice to be heard in an articulate way. People did not see or hear him. School adults did not advocate for him by identifying and assessing his learning disability as a non-native English-speaking student in time to help him. It was an important lesson to learn—to not let others take me for granted regardless of my limited English skills or the “foreigner label” ascribed to signify, “I don’t belong or am not accepted.” But I rejected such notions because, as an immigrant, I held firmly to the belief that everyone can learn and has a right to a quality education. While my experiences of marginalization and that of my brother were primarily from American-born students, I was also ostracized from Haitian students who became critical of me as I acculturated to the American culture. One incident occurred in third grade when three Haitian students complained to my English as a Second Language (ESL) teacher, Ms. Joseph (pseudonym), that I denounced my cultural background: “I was not Haitian and didn’t want to associate with them [students].” I became

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aware of this when Ms. Joseph, who was also Haitian, rather than speaking to me about this, told my parents that “I disowned my Haitian cultural background.” My parents were so livid that they threatened to send me back to Haiti and separate me from my siblings. I was devastated by my parents’ scolding and furious with my Haitian peers and Ms. Joseph. First, I did not make such a statement. It occurred to me that my Haitian peers were critical of me because I was making friends with non-Haitian students, and they did not like me reaching across cultural barriers to befriend others. Ordinarily, the American students did not associate with the immigrant students; I saw this consistently throughout my K-12 education. But I did not like being confronted with the dichotomy of immigrant versus nonimmigrant or other/foreigner. I made friends with anyone who was interested. Second, I also began to speak English fluently and perform well in school, which accelerated my withdrawal from the bilingual class. I believed that the Haitian students felt I was disavowing my cultural background the more I befriended my American peers. Unfortunately, my status as an immigrant student involved marginalized experiences from my American and Haitian peers. This experience coupled with others informed the way I viewed race in the United States. Through this cultural lens, I was learning about America, in particular the manifestation of race as an immigrant student. Realizing this, I focused on being successful academically and rejected any efforts to label or mischaracterize my cultural background. I resolved that my immigrant status is not a barrier and worked hard to excel in school. From grade school on, I persisted in my academic studies and was actively involved in school activities. I pursued opportunities that teachers, peers, and sometimes even my family did not think I could excel in. I joined the debate club and won national championships, served in student council and the honor society, and maintained excellent grades. When my high school was closed as part of the district consolidation plan, my freshmen class and I attended a neighboring high school the following academic year. It was not any easy transition because the current students in the school were territorial, which created strife between the two groups. Recognizing and concerned by this, I decided to run for class president in my junior year, which was a 2-year term. I campaigned hard against the popular opponent and won. The culmination of my experiences increased my efficacy and affirmed that my foreign-born background was not a hindrance to achieving public success. However, through my experience and observation of other students, I became keenly aware of educational inequities that many of my peers, both American and foreignborn students from underrepresented groups, encountered in school.

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Formation of an Orientation Toward Social Justice As I progressed throughout my K-12 educational experience, I saw many Black boys drop out. Many were smart but felt disconnected to school (i.e., regularly suspended, disengaged in class, or had blank faces when the teacher called on them). They were often viewed as deficient. Many immigrant students such as myself were often invisible, and schools I attended failed to adopt culturally sensitive pedagogy to accommodate our cultural differences and mainly left this responsibility to ESL teachers. The notion that schools elevated some and left others behind was always problematic for me. By the time I attended college and graduate school, I understood the cultural deficit perspective that permeated urban schools. My experiences were supplemented with literature that informed, gave me the language, and enhanced my understanding of the inequities others and I experienced. It was the beginning of my orientation toward social justice. While in undergraduate school, I took courses in the history of Africa to learn about my African ancestry and historical and contemporary literary writers. These courses provided a foundation for learning about social justice, equality, and empowerment (hooks, 1994; James, 1993; McLaren, 1998). I also did a great deal of self-study of Black women novelists and literary critics within Western society and beyond. While in graduate school, my first encounter with Freire’s (2000) writings in Pedagogy of the Oppressed greatly influenced my engagement with learning and teaching and transformed my view of education. I also encountered texts such as Education and Power (Apple, 1995), The Landscape of Learning (Greene, 1978), Teaching to Transgress (hooks, 1994), to name a few books that opened me to a new world about the struggle for social justice and the possibility it holds. My yearning to better understand and improve the world was related to my immigrant background. As early as eighth grade, I considered teaching as a profession but rejected it because education, when inequitable, privileged some and marginalized others based on cultural markers such as race, gender, class, and sexual orientation. My own experience as an immigrant student in a Western educational system was grounded in technical and practical knowledge. I also encountered transformative education and developed knowledge and understanding about critical theory and pedagogy (Giroux, 1988; Lerner, 1997) in my graduate courses. During this period, I began to nurture the language for what was to become the core of my philosophical belief: a social justice orientation. My social justice formation began in undergraduate school, but in graduate school, I learned that education was liberating (Freire, 2000; hooks, 1994). My professors in graduate school provided frameworks to examine

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hard questions about the intersection of social class, race, and gender; they challenged me to think more deeply about pedagogy in relation to the practice of freedom (Freire, 2000; hooks, 1994; McLaren, 1998). They ignited and fermented the “fire in my belly” (Merchant & Shoho, 2006) and encouraged me to learn (unlearn/relearn) and critique without fear. “Fire in the belly,” a term coined by a college dean who was a participant in Merchant and Shoho’s (2006) study: comes from the capacity to recognize the injustice but also having cultivated a kind of basic self-confidence and a basic self-assurance. We don’t develop a fire in the belly about social injustice in the absence of the cultivation of a strong philosophical base, a sense of competence, and a sense of security in the individual. It involves self-examination; it involves teaching—not just to skills, or to knowledge—but to the development of the total human being. And I can’t imagine that you can educate leaders without attending to that. (p. 98)

Further, my professors also helped push the boundaries of what I knew as I grappled with my outsider-within (Collins, 2002; McDemmond, 1999) status as a Black emerging scholar in the academy. They approached the classroom environments as open spaces where students from diverse cultural experiences could engage in discourse, understand the fluidity of a complex society, and bridge gaps through cultural understandings. I learned through them what hooks (1994) explicates about her insights, strategies, and critical reflections on pedagogical practice. She asserts, “Teaching is a performative act. And it is that aspect of our work that offers the space for change, invention, spontaneous shifts, that can serve as a catalyst drawing out the unique elements in each classroom” (hooks, p. 11). Through this performative act, my professors helped me become more engaged and an active participant in learning, an activist process that I was being oriented to and one I wanted to reciprocate. Not only did I yearn to practice this kind of activism in pedagogy (James, 1993), I was also beginning to embrace the teaching profession as part of my destiny. Seeing how my professors approached teaching from a standpoint that sought to educate for critical consciousness (hooks, 1994) and ignite activism in pedagogy (James, 1993), I knew I could help my students uncover the underlying political, social, cultural, and economic foundations of the larger society (McLaren, 1998). With this recognition, the period of my graduate school work on my doctorate provided rich opportunities to learn and enrich my understanding about critical pedagogy, gain greater personal awareness through reflection, and develop a passion to engage in praxis as an agent of social change.

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Engaging in Social Justice in the Academy During my last semester of my doctoral studies, I began to contemplate which career path I would take to advance social justice through my daily work. I accepted a tenure-track faculty position at a research-intensive institution. Because I had prior experience teaching undergraduate students in teacher education, I often addressed equity issues (i.e., race/ ethnicity, gender, class, and lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender [LGBT]) to bring awareness of marginalized students’ schooling experience and the implications of social difference. I had first-hand knowledge of how invigorating and daunting teaching such courses can be (e.g., diversity or multicultural education). For many undergraduate students, this was their first time exploring multifaceted critical social issues (i.e., equity and access, social justice, affirmative action, etc.) and their implications for educational practice. Unfortunately, such courses are often the only ones students take to meet a requirement or as an elective. Although at times some of my students resist engaging in equity/social justice issues, they returned every week interested and willing to share, learn, and grapple with the topics under consideration. Similarly, I was learning from my students on how we can explore a democratic process about teaching and learning as they encountered texts that pushed them beyond their comfort zone. Together we engaged in the reciprocity of teaching and learning (Freire, 2000; Jean-Marie, 2009), creating a classroom environment that made it safe for us to go beyond our comfort level. Occasionally, I would share my educational experience with students: “I’m the face of an immigrant.” I would take this vulnerable risk with students to deepen their knowledge and understanding of what it means to be marginalized or labeled and filled an information gap. Through an ongoing process of inquiry and critical reflection, my students explored social justice issues and examined how to address inequities in schools. Engaged in mutual participation, I was learning from my students, as they listened, and observed in class and wrote in their reflective journals about their struggles of giving up mainstream thinking and learning new approaches. Together, we “surrendered to the wonder of re-learning and learning ways of knowing that went against the grain” (hooks, 1994, p. 44). As I transitioned from undergraduate to graduate students, my approach of engaging pre- and inservice administrators about social justice issues was similar. In summary, I was living and doing social justice in the academy.

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Discussion of Findings and Conclusion In examining my autobiography through an auto-ethnography approach (Anderson, 2006; Ellis & Bochner, 2000), I noticed the significance of experiences across my lifetime. My early socialization and life experiences influenced my formation of a social justice orientation and path toward the academy. Although I am a naturalized citizen, the markers of “different,” “foreigner,” or “other” based on my physical appearance, speech patterns, and name often create a narrative that confuses people I meet. For more than 30 years, I have been fluent in English, but I speak with an accent that limits full membership into American fellowship, and thus I am always cast as “other.” Examining closely the concept of “other,” Madrid (2007) contends: Being the other means feeling different; is awareness of being distinct; its consciousness of not being similar. It means being on the edges, on the margins, on the periphery. Otherness means feeling excluded, closed out, precluded, even disdained and scorned. It produces a sense of isolation, of apartness, of disconnectedness, of alienation. (p. 19)

Additionally, I became aware of my outsider-within status as an immigrant (Alfred, 2010; Collins, 2000; Madrid, 2007; McDemmond, 1999), although I did not have the language to name my experience. Similar to Black women naming their struggle and coming to voice (Collins, 2000; Harley & Terborg-Penn, 1997; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011), naming one’s own reality invokes authority of experience (i.e., everyday theorizing) (Grant, 2012; Jean-Marie, 2005; Lloyd-Jones, 2009; Santamaría & Santamaría, 2012). Chronicling my early experiences of marginalization helped me to interpret my experiences through a critical lens and depicted how I developed a sense of where I needed to be moving in my intellectual quest to advance social justice. When I attended college and graduate school, I encountered scholars and texts that introduced me to critical theory (McLaren, 1998). Beyond critical theory, I encountered emancipatory knowledge (Habermas, 1972). Emancipatory knowledge is based on increased self-awareness and transformation of experience. In other words, knowledge is gained by selfemancipation through reflection, leading to a transformed consciousness or perspective. This knowledge was introduced in undergraduate school and reinforced during my doctoral studies. Further, it helped to ignite the “fire in my belly” and challenged me to “talk’n and walk’n”’ social justice— in other words, living and doing social justice (Black & Murtadha, 2007; Dantley & Tillman, 2006; Merchant & Shoho, 2004). Through my experience, I viewed the classroom as an open space to engage, challenge thinking, and bridge gaps through cultural understand-

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ings. Jackson (2002) contends that “teaching can never be divorced from the critical analysis of how society works, and teachers must challenge learners to think critically about the social, political and historical realities within which they inhabit the world” (p. 203). Jackson further iterates that in order to motivate learners to engage in critical discussions, teachers must also be critical analysts who challenge the status quo. Echoing Lewis’s (1990) sentiments, if we do not use education to transform society, we use it to maintain the status quo (if not intentionally, then by default), which is not a neutral position either. In further support, I concur with hooks (1994): “Teaching is a performative act,” and there is activism in pedagogy (Hafner, 2006; James, 1993). Through this activism, I am able to building bridges to advance social justice within the university classroom. In summary, teaching for social justice and infusing it in my courses is about attending to the injustices that disenfranchised students encounter in schools (Adams, Bell, & Griffin, 2007; Darling-Hammond, French, & Garcia-Lopez, 2002). It is a commitment to educational equity. In my current faculty position, preparing thoughtful educational leaders includes helping aspiring and practicing leaders to understand the multiple levels and impact of bias in society and be introspective about their entrée into social justice leadership. An awareness of social justice issues can help any student find explanations for things that might otherwise seem inexplicable. I invite them to discover themselves by crossing over a perceptual threshold and acquire conceptual tools that can help them better understand others and ultimately themselves. References Adams, M., Bell, L. A., & Griffin, P. (2007). Teaching for diversity and social justice (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Routledge. Alfred, M. V. (2001). Success in the ivory tower: Lessons from Black tenured female faculty at a major research university. In R. O. Mabokela & A. L. Green (Eds.), Sisters of the academy: Emergent Black women scholars in higher education (pp. 56-80). Sterling, VA: Stylus. Alfred, M. V. (2011). Poised to shatter the glass ceiling in the ivory tower: My reflection journey. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.). Women of color in higher education: Contemporary Perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10, pp. 303324). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Anderson, L. (2006). Analytical autoethnography. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 35(4), 373-395. Andersen, M. L., & Collins, P. H. (2007). Race, class, & gender: An anthology (6th ed.). Belmont, CA: Thomson Wadsworth. Apple, M. W. (1995). Education and power (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Routledge. Betty, P. (2007). Haitian Americans: A research guide. Reference Services Review, 35(2), 230-248.

90  G. JEAN-MARIE Black, W. R., & Murtadha, K. (2007). Toward a signature pedagogy in educational leadership preparation and program assessment. Journal of Research in Educational Leadership, 2(1). Retrieved from http://www.ucea.org/JRLE/ issue_2007_2_1.php Collins, P. H. (2002). Learning from the outsider within: The sociological significance of Black feminist thought. In C. S. Turner, A. L. Antonio, M. Garcia, B. V. Laden, A. Nora, & C. Presley (Eds.), Racial and ethnic diversity in higher education (pp. 55-70). Boston, MA: Person Custom. Dantley, M. E., & Tillman, L. C. (2006). Social justice and moral transformative leadership. In C. Marshall & M. Oliva (Eds.), Leadership for social justice: Making revolutions in education (pp. 16-30). Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon. Darling-Hammond, L., French, J., & Garcia-Lopez, S. P. (Eds.). (2002). Learning to teach for social justice. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Ellis, C., & Bochner, A. P. (2000). Autoethnography, personal narrative, reflexivity: Researcher as subject. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (2nd ed., pp. 733-768). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed (rev. 20th anniversary ed.). New York, NY: Continuum. Giroux, H. A. (1988). Teachers as intellectuals: Toward a critical pedagogy of learning. New York, NY: Bergin & Garvey Paperback. Glazer-Raymo, J. (Ed.). (2008). Unfinished agendas: New and continuing gender challenges in higher education. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Glazer-Raymo, J. (1999). Shattering the myths: Women in academe. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Gonzalez, G., & Fernandez, R. A (2003). A century of Chicano history: Empire, nations, migration. New York, NY: Routledge. Grant, C. (2012). Advancing our legacy: A black feminist perspective on the significance of mentoring for African-American women in educational leadership. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 25(1), 99–115. Greene, M. (1978). The landscape of learning. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Habermas, J. (1972). Knowledge and human interests (J. J. Shapiro, Trans.). London: Heinemann. Hafner, M. H. (2006). Teaching strategies for developing leaders for social justice. In C. Marshall & M. Oliva (Eds.), Leadership for social justice: Making revolutions in education (pp. 167-193). Boston, MA: Pearson. Harley, S., & Terborg-Penn, R. (1997). The Afro-American woman: Struggles and images. Baltimore, MD: Black Classic Press. hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to transgress: Education as the practice of freedom. New York, NY: Routledge. Jackson, S. (2002). Freire re-viewed. Educational Theory, 57(2), 199-213. James, J. (1993). Teaching theory, talking community. In J. James & A. Y. Davis (Eds.), Spirit, space & survival: African American women in (white) academe (pp. 118-138). New York, NY: Routledge. Jean-Marie, G. (2005). Standing on the promises: The experiences of Black women administrators in historically black institutions. Advancing Women in Leadership Onlin Journal, 19. Retrieved from http://www.advancingwomen.com/ awl/fall2005/index.html

Transcending “Other”   91 Jean-Marie, G. (2009) “Fire in the belly”: Igniting a social justice discourse in learning environments of leadership preparation. In A. Tooms & C. Boske (Eds.), Building bridges, connecting educational leadership and social justice to improve schools (pp. 97-119). Educational Leadership for Social Justice. Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011). Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Lewis, H. M. (1990). Introduction. In M. Horton (Ed.), The long haul (pp. xix-xxi). New York, NY: Doubleday. Lerner, M. (1997). The politics of meaning. New York, NY: Addison-Wesley. Lloyd-Jones, B. (2009). Implications of race and gender in higher education administration: An African American woman’s perspective. Advances in Developing Human Resources, 11(5), 606-618. Lorde, A. (2007). Age, race, class, and sex: Women redefining difference. In. M. L. Andersen & P. H. Collins (Eds.), Race, class, & gender: An anthology (6th ed., pp. 52-60). Belmont, CA: Thomson Wadsworth. Madrid, A. (2007). Missing people and others: Joining together to expand the circle. In. M. L. Andersen & P. H. Collins (Eds.), Race, class, & gender: An anthology (6th ed., pp. 17-21). Belmont, CA: Thomson Wadsworth. McDemmond, M. (1999). On the outside looking in. In W. B. Harvey (Ed.), Grass roots and glass ceilings: African American administrators in predominantly White colleges and universities (pp. 71-82). Albany, NY: SUNY Press. McLaren, P. (1998). Life in schools: An introduction to critical pedagogy in the foundations of education. New York, NY: Longman. Merchant, B. M., & Shoho, A. R. (2006). Bridge people: Civic and educational leaders for social justice. In C. Marshall & M. Oliva (Eds.), Leadership for social justice: Making revolutions in education (pp. 85-108). Boston, MA: Pearson. Parrillo, V. N. (2003). Strangers to these shores: Race and ethnic relations in the United States (7th ed.). New York, NY: Allyn & Beacon. Portes, A., & Rumbaut, R. G. (2001). Legacies: The story of the immigrant second generation. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Press, B. (2011). I am because we are: African wisdom in image and Proverb. Hattiesburg, MS: Books for Africa. Retrieved from www. africanwisdominimageandproverb.com Quantz, R. A, Cambron-McCabe, N., & Dantley, M. (1991). Preparing school administrators for democratic authority: A critical approach to graduate education. The Urban Review, 23(1), 3-19. Reissman, C. K. (1993). Narrative analysis. Newbury Park, CA: SAGE. Richardson, L. (2000). Writing. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (2nd ed., pp. 923-948). London: SAGE. Rubin, L. (2007). Is this a white country, or what? In. M. L. Andersen & P. H. Collins (Eds.), Race, class, & gender: An anthology (6th ed., pp. 190-197). Belmont, CA: Thomson Wadsworth. Ryu, M. (2010). Minorities in higher education 2010: Twenty-fourth status report. Washington, DC: American Council on Education. Santamaría, L. J., & Santamaría, A. P. (2012). Applied critical leadership in education: Choosing change. New York, NY: Routledge.

92  G. JEAN-MARIE Simmons, J. M. (2007). Life notes about the dual careers of a black female: Race and gender politics in public school administration and higher education professorship. Advancing Women in Leadership Online Journal, 22. Singleton, G. E., & Linton, C. (2006). Courageous conversations about race. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press. Van Manen, M. (1990). Researching lived experience: Human science for an action sensitive pedagogy. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Waters, M. C. (2001). Black identities: West Indian immigrant dreams and American realities. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Chapter 5

Interrupting the Usual in the Academy Creating a Sense of Belonging Among Latina Faculty Anne-Marie Nuñez, Elizabeth Murakami, and Elsa Ruiz

Abstract In this chapter, we examine the experiences of Latina faculty who share challenges with other faculty of color in building a sense of belonging navigating academia. We employ narrative inquiry to explore our auto-ethnographic accounts as three Latina faculty members making the transition into their first academic positions at the same Hispanic-Serving Institution. Using validation theory as a lens, we analyze how building collaborative academic and social relationships enhances our sense of belonging in our university. We find that our participation in a support group created by and for Latina faculty in our institution facilitates our transitions into the academy. We also address implications of our findings for further research, policy, and practice regarding the promotion and retention of faculty of color and those from other historically marginalized groups.

The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages 93–114 Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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Introduction Latina faculty are among the most underrepresented groups in the academy, making up 4% of the tenure-track or tenured female professoriate in the United States. This percentage drops when considering the proportion of the tenured female professors in the United States who are Latina. Among the female professoriate, 3.4% of associate professors and 2.8% of full professors are Latina. In comparison, 82.0% of female associate professors and 86.6 % of female full professors are White, 6.2% of female associate and 4.9% of full professors are Asian, and 6.6% of female associate and 4.8% of full professors are Black (Chronicle of Higher Education, 2010). These figures reflect the challenges that Latina faculty face in the promotion and tenure process. Similar to many faculty members of color and women of color in the academy, Latina academics often encounter forms of marginalization such as invisibility, isolation, self-doubt, imposter syndrome, in addition to overt and covert racism, sexism, and classism (Achor & Morales, 1990; de la Luz Reyes & Halcon, 1988; Solorzano & Yosso, 2001; Turner, 2002; Turner, Gonzalez, & Wood, 2008; Turner & Myers, 2000; Turner & Thompson, 1993). Latina faculty members have documented these narratives in anthologies such as the The Leaning Ivory Tower: Latino Professors in American Universities (Padilla & Chavez, 1995), Learning From Our Lives: Women, Research, and Autobiography in Education (Neumann & Peterson, 1997), Telling to Live: Latina Feminist Testimonios (The Latina Feminist Group, 2001), and Doing the Public Good (González & Padilla, 2008). These experiences of marginalization are intensified because of Latina faculty members’ dual status as women and as members of a racially underrepresented group (Allan, 2011; Cuadraz, 1992; Turner, 2002). Latinos are now the fastest growing racial/ethnic group in the United States and are the largest group of students of color enrolled in institutions of higher education (Fry, 2011). Therefore, the question of not only how to recruit but also how to retain Latina/o faculty is critical. It is important that Latino students see faculty from their racial/ethnic backgrounds so they have access to role models with whom they can ethnically identify. For example, recent research suggests that being taught by a member of one’s racial/ethnic group is positively associated with college academic achievement (Fairlie, Hoffman, & Oreopoulos, 2011). The increased presence of Latino faculty helps improve the campus climate and foster a sense of belonging for these students (Gurin, Dey, Hurtado, & Gurin, 2002; Hurtado & Carter, 1997; Hurtado, Alvarez, Guillermo-Wann, Cuellar, & Arellano, 2012). Previously used to describe an individual’s sense of cohesion with a local community or a country (Bollen & Hoyle, 1990), the concept of sense of belonging has also been ex-

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tended to mean a sense of cohesion within a campus community (Hurtado & Carter, 1997). A sense of belonging illustrates students’ perceptions as well as behaviors within that climate which indicate how well students and faculty come to feel part of a community (Hurtado et al., 1998). This sense of belonging has been found to be related to student retention and intent to persist in college (Allison, 1999; Hausman, Schofield, & Woods, 2007). In this chapter, we focus on the experiences of three Latina women faculty who are in the process of building a sense of belonging in academia. We explore our experiences at an institution in which there is a greater proportion and number of Latina faculty in one unit than the norm in the second largest Hispanic-Serving Institution (HSI) in the United States. By Latina, we mean women from Latino backgrounds, defined in the U.S. Census as people who identify as coming from a Mexican, Mexican American, Chicano, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Central American, South American, or other Hispanic background (Population Reference Bureau, 2010). Here we explore: how do junior Latina women faculty at an HSI create a sense of belonging in their institutions and in the academy? Much research on the experiences of women and faculty of color has been conducted in predominantly White institutions (PWIs) (e.g., Grant, 2012; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011a; Turner et al., 2008). However, few studies address the experiences of faculty in minority-serving institutions (Gasman, 2009; Hubbard & Stage, 2009; Nuñez & Murakami-Ramalho, 2011), let alone the experiences of women or faculty of color in these institutions. When each of us began our faculty careers, 5 out of 70 of the female faculty in the college were Latina tenured professors (7%), whereas about 10 out of 70 in this college (14%) were junior Latina faculty members. These figures are higher than the dismal national representation of Latino faculty but still extremely low relative to the composition of the city, which is about two-thirds Latino. Because these types of institutions serve a great number of students of color, it is important to understand the experiences of faculty in these institutions. Conceptual Context: Interrupting the Usual While small in relation to the representation of Latinos in San Antonio, the number of earlier career Latina faculty scholars in our college of education is still high relative to other institutions. The increased representation of Latinas on our faculty is unusual, yet consistent with findings that Latina and Latino faculty tend to have more representation at HSIs compared with other types of institutions, including flagship public universities (Perna, Li, Walsh, & Raible, 2010). In our numbers, then, we had the potential to activate a critical mass of Latina scholars in our institution.

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But this process was not inevitable; it had to be intentional and supported along the way. Indeed, research has documented that having an increased representation of faculty members of color is not enough to ensure that a given institutional climate will be transformed to be more inclusive (e.g., Gurin et al., 2002; Hurtado et al., 1998; Smith, 2009). Smith (2009) points out that many efforts to promote faculty diversity focus solely on recruitment rather than retention. However, efforts to diversify the faculty must also address retention issues. When the academy functions in accordance with its traditional norms, attitudes, and beliefs, it tends to exclude underrepresented faculty and place them at a disadvantage for achieving promotion and tenure (e.g., Hurtado & Sharkness, 2008; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011b; Smith, 2009; Turner et al., 2008). Research has shown that when institutional hiring norms are attentive to and inclusive of faculty of color, faculty of color are more likely to be hired (Smith, Turner, Osei-Kofi, & Richards, 2004). Smith et al. (2004) have termed such hiring behaviors “interrupting the usual” way of going about the hiring process. Here, we adapt their phrase to address issues of faculty retention that go against the grain of the experiences of isolation and lack of support that faculty academics of color have often described in the academy. Promoting Latina faculty members’ effort to find a sense of belonging or a felt sense of social cohesion (Bollen & Hoyle, 1990; Hurtado & Carter, 1997) in the institution is one way to counter the isolation that Latina faculty can experience. But how can a sense of belonging be promoted? We have found the concept of validation (Rendon, 1994; Rendon Linares & Muñoz, 2011) helpful in characterizing some of our experiences in our faculty support group. While sense of belonging and validation theories have typically been used to understand the experiences of college students (Bollen & Hoyle, 1990; Hoffman, Richmond, Morrow, and Salomone, 2002; Hurtado & Carter, 1997; Rendon, 1994; Rendon Linares & Muñoz, 2011), we apply these terms to faculty experiences. In particular, we argue that they are relevant to faculty in the tenure and promotion process, as illustrated by the importance that institutions place on “fit” when recruiting or retaining a particular candidate. The notion of fit implies that the faculty member’s sense of belonging and that an institution has identified them as having talent, hence being validated. Having a critical mass of Latina faculty can contribute to structural diversity of an institution. However, a critical mass is not enough to ensure that contributions of Latina faculty will be valued, both in everyday experiences and in longer term outcomes such as promotion and tenure (Gurin et al., 2002; Hurtado et al., 2008; Smith, 2009). Recognizing this challenge, a group of Latina faculty at our institution created a collabora-

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tive group in the College of Education and Human Development called Research for the Educational Advancement of Latinos (REAL), which has continued its activities since 2005-2006. Its goals include advancing scholarship on Latinos in education, as well as supporting members in navigating the academy. Related academic and social activities have included writing retreats, luncheons, and mentoring conversations with senior Latina faculty (Alanis, Cuero, & Rodriguez, 2009). Discussions of how this group has been helpful in our socialization into the academy have been documented in previous work (Nuñez & Murakami-Ramalho, 2011; Nuñez, Murakami-Ramalho, & Cuero, 2010). Here, we address our involvement in—that of valiation—which has enabled us to more easily transition into our first faculty positions. Validation theory initially emerged out of the recognition of nontraditional students’ own perspectives about their college success (Rendon, 1994). In particular, the quality of these students’ interactions with faculty and higher education staff fundamentally contribute to their success (Bensimon, 2007; Rendon, 1994; Rendon Linares & Muñoz, 2011). This theory supports the importance of higher education faculty and staff members’ roles in engaging students, fostering students’ selfworth, advancing student growth and development, emphasizing both in- and out-of-class experiences, sustaining engagement over time, and supporting students during their transition to college (Rendon Linares & Muñoz, 2011). Validation has been found to positively influence students’ sense of integration in college and intent to persist in college (Barnett, 2011). Decades of research pointing to the importance of faculty-student interactions in student persistence also support the importance of the quality of faculty-student relationships (Pascarella & Terenzini, 2005). There are two types of validation: academic and interpersonal (Rendon, 1994; Rendon Linares & Muñoz, 2011). Academic validation involves supporting students academically—by incorporating course content or pedagogy that reflects students’ cultures and personal identities creating learning communities and building relationships with other students or faculty from similar backgrounds. Interpersonal validation emphasizes supporting students in personal matters, which could include their own goals, their families’ relationships with their education, or life-changing events (Rendon Linares & Muñoz, 2011). In this chapter, we extend the concept of validation to address faculty experiences through conducting a group auto-ethnographic examination of our relationships with one another as part of this faculty support group. Adapted to faculty from nondominant communities, we find that the concept of validation emphasizes (a) the holistic nature of faculty members’ experiences, (b) the importance of faculty members’ personal stories as ways of knowing (including our own auto-ethnographic work),

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(c) strengths or “cultural wealth” (Yosso, 2005) coming from the “funds of knowledge” (Gonzales, Moll, & Amanti, 2005) from nondominant communities, (d) promotion of social justice, and (e) organizational transformation (Rendon Linares & Muñoz, 2011). We consider how our experiences of validation “interrupt the usual” narrative of Latina faculty in universities, as these experiences enhance our capacity to find a sense of belonging in our institution and in the academy. Method In this study, we examine our experiences as three junior Latina women faculty transitioning into our first faculty positions. A qualitative approach is well suited to studying processes, such as the transition into faculty life (Bogdan & Biklen, 2007). We examine the topic of transitioning into faculty life using narrative inquiry (Atkins, 2004; Ezzy, 1998; Polkinghorne, 1996; Smith & Sparkes, 2008), following the assumption that “lives are storied, and identity is narratively constructed” (Smith & Sparkes, 2008, p. 5). In constructing our self-narratives, we followed Spry’s (2001) guidelines of auto-ethnography as a scholarly praxis. Spry (2001) defines autoethnography as a “self-narrative that critiques how one is situated with others in social contexts” (p. 710). In this study, we address how we come to find a sense of belonging within the social context of our HSI and, more broadly, in the academy. Sample and Participants Given that we wanted to explore how Latina faculty find a sense of belonging in the academy, our narratives were based on a purposeful sample (Patton, 1990) of Latina faculty who have been engaged in this process. Following the tenets of perspectives, such as critical race theory (Solorzano & Villalpando, 1998) and narrative auto-ethnography (Lincoln, 1993), we centered our own experiences as the objects of analysis. To do this, we each generated auto-ethnographic self-narratives (Spry, 2001). Anne-Marie, Elizabeth, and Elsa, then, were the researcher-participants in this study. Anne-Marie is a second-generation Colombian American; her father is a Colombian immigrant, and her mother is German American. Her research addresses the individual and institutional factors that affect college access and retention of diverse students and faculty, particularly those from Latino, first-generation, and migrant backgrounds. She employs multiple methodological approaches and disciplinary perspec-

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tives to examine theoretical and practical issues related to college choice, college outreach, and college transition. Elizabeth is a first-generation Brazilian immigrant who is also of Japanese descent. Because she was born in South America, and her family has lived in Brazil for more than 100 years and three generations, her primary cultural identifier in the United States is as a Latina. Her academic preparation includes an upbringing in American as well as Brazilian schools, and her professional experience includes 14 years in American international education and multicultural pedagogy. Her degrees and credentials led her to develop a focus on leadership paradigms in national and international contexts focusing on urban and international leadership and education, as these topics relate to social justice, organizational learning and ecology, leadership dynamics, globalization, hybrid identities/communities, social justice, race, and gender. Elsa was born in Laredo, Texas. Her family has been living on the U.S. side of the U.S.-Mexico border for several generations. She taught middle and high school mathematics for more than 25 years in a predominantly Latino school district bordering Mexico. This experience led her to focus her research on the conditions under which diverse K-12 students, particularly Latino students, can learn mathematics most effectively. In addition, her research examines how teachers strategically employ their culturally relevant pedagogical knowledge to motivate students of color in learning mathematical concepts and applications. Data Collection and Analysis Our roles in this study were to reflect on each of our own experiences as Latina faculty transitioning into the academy and how we developed a sense of belonging through the constructions of selves as faculty and through interactions with others within our own institutional and sociohistorical contexts (Ellis & Bochner, 1996; Goodall, 1998). To engage in this examination, we undertook three steps. First, we wrote journal entries about our experiences as women faculty and our participation in a group called Research for the Educational Advancement of Latinas (REAL) during our first four years as faculty at our institution. Second, we shared our journal entries (Popkin, 2001) and analyzed them in a dialogical manner, looking for similarities and differences (Padilla, 1993). Dialogical analysis involves a problem-posing method of inquiry, where individual problems, struggles, and other points of contention are revealed when situated in a micro- and macro-sociopolitical environment (González & Padilla, 2008; Padilla, 1993), thus “revealing overt and hidden aspects of problematic experiences in everyday life” (Padilla, 1993, p. 153). Finally,

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in using our own experiences, we employed cross-case analysis (Schwandt, 2001) to push each other to further clarify how our identity and position affected our journeys as junior Latina women faculty. The collective autoethnographic approach allowed us to take narrative authority, exercising our social freedom to challenge what is considered “business as usual” in academia regarding diversity, such as the belief in the myth that recruiting scholars of color will fully address the historic limitations of their participation in academia. Institutional and Organizational Contexts The University of Texas at San Antonio (UTSA), the second largest HSI in the continental United States, enrolls about 28,500 students in 126 undergraduate and graduate degree programs. Students of color represent more than half (57%) of the student body; Latinas/os represent 43% of the total student body. Our group, REAL, was established by 10 cofounders as an interdisciplinary research collaborative in 2005. The organization was initially housed in the Women’s Studies Institute and was primarily comprised of tenure-track Latina faculty from different College of Education departments. The purpose of the organization was to “represent the voices of a new generation of Latinas in the academy, and to document their journey through specific values of support, persistence, and legitimacy” (Alanis, Cuero, & Rodríguez, 2009, p. 243). REAL’s mission involves three main goals: (a) engage in interdisciplinary research focused on Latina/o issues, (b) present collaborative research at national and international conferences, and (c) provide collegial support for Latina faculty in the tenure-track process (Alanis, Cuero, & Rodríguez, 2009). The group has formally met twice a semester on average, and participants have been involved in activities such as collaborative research projects, mentoring, writing retreats, and grant writing. Group members have written about Latina faculty experiences, including topics such as peer mentoring and pedagogy (e.g., Ek, QuijadaCerecer, Alanis, & Rodríguez, 2010; Murakami-Ramalho, Nuñez, & Cuero, 2010; Nuñez, Murakami-Ramalho, & Cuero, 2010; Oliva, Rodríguez, Alanis, & Quijada, 2011; Quijada, Ek, Alanis, & Murakami-Ramalho, 2010). This study distinctively focuses on how REAL has served as a space for these faculty to build a sense of belonging through various processes of validation.

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Findings In analyzing our narratives, several common themes emerged. Each theme indicates a process through which our participation in REAL has helped us to develop a sense of belonging in the university. These processes include: (a) recognizing the importance of one another’s work, (b) affirming the epistemologies used in one another’s work, (c) emphasizing a collaborative versus a competitive stance, (d) socializing outside of work, and (e) expressing our identities in culturally specific ways. Recognizing the Importance of One Another’s Work Each of us expressed that participating in REAL afforded us a space where it was taken for granted that our research on Latinos in education was worthwhile and valuable. As Anne-Marie puts it, In REAL, an interest in broadening opportunities for Latinos in education is the starting point. Therefore, we do not have to convince one another that our work is important. This makes pursuing what matters to us much easier, because we are not spending as much energy trying to convince our colleagues that this work matters. It frees us up to focus more on the work itself.

Elsa added that this mutual understanding of the substance and importance of our work has helped her to refine her research: In REAL, my research agenda is important and is valued. Members see that my agenda focuses on high school mathematics students and teachers and is integrated into the overarching mission of REAL, the educational advancement of Latina/os. On several occasions, I’ve received an e-mail or a text from other members alerting me to an article or a paper that relates to my interests.

Elsa’s narrative suggests the importance of situating her own work within an educational perspective, which encompasses experiences ranging from preschool to graduate school. For Elsa, having access to a local network of colleagues who understand her work within this larger context has provided her with extra research resources to conduct her studies because she has multiple sets of eyes looking out for her. Elizabeth added that participation in REAL encouraged her to examine her roots as a Latina: I could use tacit knowledge to inform my research agenda on educational leadership. In our gatherings, REAL members shared their experiences of racism, tokenism, classism, and gender discrimination. These conversations

102   A.-M. NUÑEZ, E. MURAKAMI, and E. RUIZ confirmed that such experiences were not just single instances, but examples of broader power asymmetries.

The knowledge gathered in conversations “around the table” (to use Elizabeth’s words) sharpened and broadened her awareness of the issues that Latino families and their students face in U.S. schooling, as well as the tools she could employ to study these issues. This brings us to our next theme—going beyond valuing what we know and seek to know to how we know. Affirming the Epistemologies Used in One Another’s Work Our narratives revealed that REAL offered us a space where our ways of knowing are understood and seen as valid approaches to social inquiry. Elizabeth observed, What we do at REAL is probably like a female version of the Inklings. The Inklings was a group that English authors C. S. Lewis, J. R. Tolkien, and others convened to dialogue about their life work’s—and their writing (Carpenter, 1979). Similarly, we share experiences about our life’s work; including our pedagogy, research, and everyday personal experiences as Latina faculty.

According to Elizabeth, the act of getting together to discuss our work enhances our capacity to visualize how our research fits within the broader landscape of scholarship on Latinos in education. This process informs how we come to know about these communities and allows us to compare approaches to inquiry. Similarly, Anne-Marie stated: We all get the idea that advancing Latino education is a complex process that requires multiple approaches to research, ranging from the more conventional to more alternative. Because we value one another’s ways of knowing, we can refine our cultural intuition (Delgado, 1998) as a tool for knowing, to sharpen the ways in which we examine phenomena concerning Latinos in education.

Elsa expanded on Anne-Marie’s point to describe how REAL offers the opportunity to explore another way of knowing: I see REAL as a safe space for us as Latinas to come together and share our own stories or testimonios. As defined by the Latina Feminis Research Group (2001), testimonio is a genre of writing that tells life’s happenings from an eyewitness perspective. It is a way of bearing witness to experiences that would otherwise be invisible or erased by history.

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When sharing testimonios, we are sharing and reflecting on those stories to better understand the world in which we live and at the same time understand ourselves. As Hurtado (2008) writes, testimonios “make visible the messiness of their [Latinas’] successful educational trajectories and defy the master narratives of success” (Cantu, 2008; p. xvii). In telling our testimonios and sharing our stories, we find that our stories are similar in many ways, even if our experiences and backgrounds are different. And together we try to make sense of this world known as academia. Sharing our stories in this group, then, is a form of knowing through the method of testimonio (Cantu, 2008; Hurtado, 2008; Latina Feminist Research Group, 2001). Unlike in other, more normative academic spaces, this form of knowing is not questioned in the collective space of REAL. Engaging in testimonio is a way for us to become more self-reflexive as academics, both individually and collectively. As Elsa suggested, it helps us to learn how to navigate the academy and enhance research on Latina women faculty. Emphasizing a Collaborative Over a Competitive Stance We each expressed how engaging in the activities of REAL offers us the opportunity to challenge the usual (or taken-for-granted norms of) competitiveness in academia. This begins with the simple act of celebrating one another’s accomplishments. As Elsa asserted: Celebrating one’s accomplishments is not as thrilling as having others celebrate them with us. I come from a very large family of 11 siblings, and as a family we celebrate one another’s accomplishments and milestones. REAL is like a family away from home, where each one of us feels happy when a member reaches a milestone like receiving tenure or having an article published by a prestigious journal. E-mails start to go out to the REAL list serve when one of us is celebrating good news.

Anne-Marie discussed how celebrating our accomplishments can extend to raising awareness about these accomplishments to a wider audience: “If we celebrate one another’s accomplishments publicly, that results in greater awareness among the larger university and academic community of our contributions. If we feel uncomfortable bragging for ourselves, our colegas (colleagues) can do it for us.” More broadly, Elizabeth addressed how senior Latina full professors at our institution have served as mentors and encouraged us to challenge academic norms of competition: From the beginning, these Latina full professors emphasized the importance of collaboration over competition in academia. They dedicated time during

104   A.-M. NUÑEZ, E. MURAKAMI, and E. RUIZ lunches, weekends, and writing sessions to walk us through to what Cooper and Stevens (2001) called the “sacred grove” of political forces, unwritten rules, and far from explicit procedures embedded in the process of getting tenure. Through our mentors, and as a group, we opted to strengthen our portfolios collectively, instead of getting into the “usual business” of dividing and conquering strategies to achieve tenure. We recently celebrated the promotion and tenure of several of our members, whose knowledge base and research are in part informed by REAL activities.

Senior Latina faculty members here served as guides, not only in successfully navigating promotion and tenure but in modeling that path using the less typical norm of collaboration. They showed us that we could be successful following an alternative collaborative approach that was more authentic to us. Socializing Outside of Work In addition to these academic matters, we each expressed how the simple act of participating in social activities outside of work also facilitated our coming to feel a sense of belonging in our institution. As Elizabeth has shared, I moved to San Antonio from out of state. Being a member in REAL provided me with opportunities to get to know my colleagues beyond the workplace. Through our participation in the group, members of REAL learned about each other’s families; and celebrated milestones such as special recognitions and awards, weddings, and birthdays, beyond the university premises. These activities provided me and my children with the opportunity to become more integrated into the local community, and helped us to establish better work-life balance.

Similar to Elizabeth, Anne-Marie found that the group provided her with an important and much-needed social outlet: I moved to this city not knowing anyone, except for the people with whom I interviewed for this position and two friends from graduate school. Almost immediately, members of the group invited me to join in social events, such as birthday parties, and introduced me to other local scholars with interests in Latino issues. To have members of the group take the initiative and reach out to me made a world of difference in coming to feel at home in this city. I know that these personal connections and activities really eased the loneliness and isolation I could have otherwise felt in moving to this unfamiliar place.

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Elsa’s situation was different from Elizabeth’s and Anne-Marie’s, in that she had ties to the region. Despite these ties, Elsa felt isolated when she began her position. Yet as she described, the group offered her the opportunity to connect with others in a more holistic way: Unlike Anne-Marie and Elizabeth, I was born and raised in Texas, and San Antonio is 150 miles from my hometown, so when I accepted a position as an assistant professor in San Antonio, I was not moving very far. However, once I was here, I felt like my hometown and my family and friends were thousands of miles away. I recall one afternoon, I was feeling very down and missing my friends, our afternoon phone calls, our outings, going to the movies, etc. At that very moment, a member from REAL walked into my office and invited me to join them to celebrate another professor’s birthday at a nearby restaurant. I decided to go, and I found in REAL a group of new friends with whom I could socialize with outside of the job. They reminded me of my friends back home—friends to whom I could speak English but also Spanish or Spanglish and not have to translate or apologize.

Here, Elsa emphasized academic experiences of isolation and the importance of building local friendships. Her new job was so demanding that she found it difficult to spend time with her friends in other parts of Texas. Her perspective also suggests the critical linkage between establishing these social relationships and the opportunities they offered for pursuing collaboration and cultural expression. Expressing Our Identities in Culturally Specific Ways Each of us also addressed how being in the group has encouraged us to explore our various identities as Latinas. This group has offered us the opportunity to express ourselves in culturally specific ways that may not be understood or reflected in traditional academic spaces but that group members from similar cultural backgrounds understand. Although few people in her home of origin were Latino or spoke Spanish, Anne-Marie echoed Elsa’s point above about the capacity to communicate in different languages with other members of the group: Our interactions with one another often involve some form of cultural expression. Many of us code-switch into Spanish when we are speaking around each other, and it is a familiar and welcome form of expression, even if we speak it in different ways. Being here has enhanced my capacity to explore the meaning of the Latino heritage in the US, as well as my own identity as a Latina. As an example, I never knew the history behind tamales or how they were part of special occasions, before I moved to San Antonio.

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Common traditions enriched this group. However, Latinos encompass a diversity of national, linguistic, racial/ethnic, phenotype, class, and other backgrounds, so it can be challenging to form connections across these differences. Elsa pointed out a culturally specific way of articulating how REAL offers a way of making such connections: We each have our own opinions and points of view, but there is one common principle that connects us all. We all care about education and understand the value of education for Latinos in the US. As members of REAL, we get our strengths through hermandad to reach our goal—to build a community of scholars who are purposeful in advancing Latinos in education. In Spanish hermandad means sisterhood. According to Bettez, Lopez, and MachadoCasas (2009), it is a strong tie that keeps women of color united and at the same time aware of their differences.

Similarly, Elizabeth commented: Relationships among REAL members are not always idyllic. We have differences of opinions and perspectives. Despite these differences, we are keenly aware of the commonalities we share. Our common research agenda, and our life experiences related to Latinos, allow us to communicate in the same language of advocacy, of Latinidad, and hermandad in the academy, to use Elsa’s term. We have our own languages of expression, be they in Spanish or English, which are developed through shared experiences of struggle, as well as laughter.

Similar to Latinos across the United States, members of REAL come from diverse cultural backgrounds. Yet we also use our participation in the group as an opportunity to explore our own unique Latina identities in relationship to those of other group members. Exploring our cultural similarities and differences helps us to construct our affiliations with one another and with the group in more meaningful and textured ways, which reflect the realities of the diversity of the Latino community in the United States. Discussion This study offers a sense of what faculty experiences for women of color can be like when a critical mass affiliates across cultural heritage and research interests. Much research on the experiences of women faculty of color is based on the experiences of women in PWIs (e.g., Neumann & Petersen, 1997; Padilla & Chavez, 1995; The Latina Feminist Group, 2001; Turner et al., 2008). Themes emerging from these accounts include invisibility, isolation, tokenism, covert and overt racism, sexism, and classism.

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Less is known about the possibility for Latina women faculty to experience a sense of community at their institutions. The themes revealed in our narratives suggest that the validation we experience in our group interrupts the usual narratives of isolation and invisibility of Latina academics and is one way in which members of our group “defy the master narratives of success” (Hurtado, 2008, p. xvii). The processes of validation we describe have significantly contributed to our sense of belonging in our university during the transition to our first faculty positions. Believing that our research topics, ways of knowing, potential to contribute, social lives, and cultural backgrounds are all important and that these things matter to others in our institution (Schlossberg, 1989) allows us to integrate our personal and professional identities to a greater extent. Moreover, several members of this group have been successful in the tenure process. This suggests that experiences in the group can help in our retention as faculty and further belongingness in the academy. The concept of validation involves academic and interpersonal components (Rendon, 1994). Our experiences suggest that both academic and interpersonal dimensions are critical to fostering a sense of belonging for junior Latina faculty. Specifically, feeling as if our research matters and that our ways of knowing are valid approaches to social inquiry serve as academic validation, which is important in creating an environment where our scholarship is valued, rather than overlooked or dismissed (Smith, 2009). Taking a collaborative stance and socializing outside of work speak to how we relate to one another, reflecting interpersonal validation. Expressing ourselves culturally ties together both academic and interpersonal validation. It involves academic validation because we share the common research interest of exploring how to broaden educational opportunities for people from Latino cultural background. In addition, academic validation entails applying ways of knowing that allow us to apply our cultural intuition (Delgado Bernal, 1998) to study this phenomenon in a more informed manner. It involves interpersonal validation because we share our cultural backgrounds through cultural activities and forms of expression, including language. The concept of testimonio ties together both academic and interpersonal forms of validation because it involves a way of listening to one another, as well as a way of speaking. Testimonio incorporates a community of listeners willing to support one another and to value one another’s work, lives beyond the classroom, and cultural backgrounds (The Latina Feminist Group, 2001). Another way of expressing this community is hermandad, which in Spanish is a connection among women of color where they recognize their commonalities but are also aware of their differences (Bettez, Lopez, & Machado-Casas, 2009). As Elsa’s narrative indicates, hermandad in the academy means that as Latina faculty, we recognize that we are here to of-

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fer support to one another, that we have a shared cause that can empower us to succeed in academia and to contribute to improving conditions for our communities. The notion of hermandad, therefore, encompasses both the academic and interpersonal ties that we have with one another. It also addresses the importance of allowing us to explore and express our unique identities as individuals. Through the validation of this support network and the opportunity to integrate our personal and professional lives, we create a trenza (braid) (Delgado Bernal, 2008), weaving together the different parts of who we are. Our study also identifies culturally specific elements of validation for Latina faculty and suggests the power of experiencing culturally-specific validation when one’s culture is not reflected in the dominant norms of an environment such as academia. Cultivating alternative organizational norms like validation in a small space like REAL cannot change our institution or the academy in the short term. But our experiences point to the potential of critical mass in facilitating the retention of historically marginalized faculty in higher education. Future Directions for Research Our experiences echo those of other members in REAL, who have found this group to be a space for developing authentic personal, professional, and community-oriented identities that reflect their heritage as Latinas (e.g., Ek, Quijada Cerecer, Alanis, & Rodríguez, 2010; Oliva, Rodríguez, Alanis, & Quijada, 2011). As Smith notes (2009), minority-serving institutions such as our HSI are more likely to have a critical mass of faculty from historically underrepresented groups. The potential to form a group that shares similarities along gender and race lines, as well as research interests centered around a broad discipline (in this case, education) is unusual. The question arises of whether and how such organizational processes may support junior Latina faculty at other institutions, as well as members of other historically underrepresented groups in the academy (including women and people of color). It is worth examining further the extent to which the capacity to build a scholarly and supportive community is contextually or institutionally dependent, and how such a community may serve different purposes, depending on the faculty members involved. It is also worth exploring the institutional conditions that allow faculty from historically marginalized groups to find a sense of belonging in their institutions and to build similar kinds of communities. One question that emerges is: how can such spaces be created in PWIs or other situations where the structural diversity of faculty is less pronounced? For example, what is the capacity for groups along other intersecting dimensions or cat-

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egories of difference to support faculty from historically underrepresented groups? Conclusions and Implications for Policy and Practice Our study has several implications for enhancing institutional climates for Latino faculty. First, institutional leaders should conduct audits of the campus climate for Latino faculty, as well as for students (Harper & Hurtado, 2007). These audits should be conducted using both qualitative and quantitative approaches. In qualitative forums such as focus groups among Latino faculty or even one-on-one interviews, such audits should solicit the views of faculty in an environment that will allow faculty to trust that they can honestly express their concerns and recommendations. Soliciting faculty’s own perspectives can also serve as a reminder of the unique ways in which faculty construct their identities; for example, Latina faculty are not a monolithic group, and issues of intersectionality with other social categories must be recognized in efforts to initiate and support faculty systems (Allan, 2011; Nuñez & Murakami-Ramalho, 2011; Smith, 2009). Quantitative indicators such as application and hiring patterns, as well as promotion and retention rates of Latino faculty, should also be tracked; recruitment and retention statistics should be disaggregated by race and gender to monitor the equity of faculty in the university (Smith, 2009). It is important that the results of such audits be applied and used intentionally to initiate efforts to improve climates and policies regarding faculty of color. Institutional personnel could also support faculty in forming groups such as ours. Institutional programs could provide new faculty with guidance in finding institutional mentors and sponsors, including peer mentors, or offering faculty opportunities to form social networks with one another (Rockquemore & Laszloffy, 2008). New faculty orientations might offer spaces for linking faculty within or across units. Forming linkages to resources such as cultural centers, other departments, community organizations, and specialized research centers is also important. For example, our group was able to establish an institutional affiliation with the department of Women’s Studies (Alanis et al., 2009). Institutional leaders at different levels of administration can also implement concrete guidelines to foster the retention as well as recruitment of Latina faculty and other members of underrepresented groups (Smith, 2009). This includes challenging the covert and overt sexism, racism, and other “isms” (Smith, 2009) as well as entrenched norms, attitudes, and behaviors that perpetuate power asymmetries. Our formation of a support

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group for Latina faculty serves as an example of collective organizing that diverges from liberal feminist perspectives and can address the needs of women faculty in a more holistic way (Allan, 2011). For scholars who do not have a critical mass of faculty with similar backgrounds at their institution, cross-institutional networks, such as the network represented by authors in this chapter, can be helpful. Crossinstitutional networks can help scholars of color build national networks (Rockquemore & Laszloffy, 2008). Professional organizations in the disciplines, and specialized groups within these organizations, can also offer spaces to create cross-institutional collaboration for scholars looking to find a sense of belonging in the broader scholarly community. References Achor, S., & Morales, A. (1990). Chicanas holding doctoral degrees: Social reproduction and cultural ecological approaches. Anthropology and Education Quarterly, 21, 269-287. Alanís, I., Cuero, K. K., & Rodríguez, M. A. (2009). Research for the educational advancement of Latinas: A research and professional development collaborative. NASPA Journal about Women in Higher Education, 1(2), 243-244. Allan, E. (2011). Women’s status in higher education: Equity matters (ASHE monograph series, Volume 37, Issue 1). Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Allison, L. M. (1999). The impact of integrative experiences on persistence: A study of non-traditional students. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Department of Education, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI. Atkins, K. (2004). Narrative identity, practical identity, and ethical subjectivity. Continental Philosphical Review, 37, 341-366. Barnett, E. (2011). Faculty validation and persistence among nontraditional community college students. Enrollment Management Journal, 5(2), 97-117. Bensimon, E. M. (2007). The underestimated significance of practitioner knowledge in the scholarship on student success. Review of Higher Education, 30(4), 441-469. Bettez, S., Lopez, J., & Machado-Casas, M. (2009). “Hermandad” (sisterhood): Latinas in higher education. In D. Cleveland & C. Sleeter (Eds.), When “Minorities are strongly encouraged to apply”: Diversity and affirmative action in higher education. New York, NY: Peter Lang. Bogdan, R. C., & Biklen, S. K. (2007). Qualitative research for education: An introduction to theories and traditions (5th ed.). New York, NY: Pearson. Bollen, K., & Hoyle, R. (1990). Perceived cohesion: A conceptual and empirical explanation. Social Forces, 69, 470-504. Cantu, N. (Ed.). (2008). Paths to discovery: Autobiographies from Chicanas with careers in science, mathematics, and engineering. Los Angeles, CA: UCLA Chicano Studies Research Center Press. Carpenter, H. (1979). The inklings: C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams and their friends. London: HarperCollins.

Interrupting the Usual in the Academy   111 Chronicle of Higher Education. (2010). Almanac of higher education 2010. Retrieved from http://chronicle.com/article/Percentage-of-Faculty-Members/123927/ Cooper, J. E., & Stevens, D. D. (2001). Tenure in the sacred grove: issues and strategies for women and minority faculty. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Cuadraz, G. (1992). Experiences of multiple marginality: A case study of Chicana\ “Scholarship Women.” Association of Mexican American Educators Journal, 3143. de la Luz Reyes, M., & Halcon, J. (1988). Racism in academia: The old wolf revisited. Harvard Educational Review, 58, 299-314. Delgado Bernal, D. (1998). Using a Chicana feminist epistemology in educational research. Harvard Educational Review, 68(4), 555-582. Delgado Bernal, D. (2008). La trenza de identidades: Weaving together my personal, professional, and communal identities. In K. P. Gonzalez & R. V. Padilla (Eds.), Doing the public good: Latina/o scholars engage civic participation (pp. 135-148). Sterling, VA: Stylus. Ek, L. D., Quijada Cerecer, P. D, Alanis, I., & Rodriguez, M. (2010). I don’t belong here: Chicanas/Latinas at a Hispanic Serving Institution creating community through muxerista-mentoring. Equity & Excellence in Education, 43(4). Ellis, C., & Bochner, A. (Eds.). (1996). Composing ethnography: Alternative forms of qualitative writing. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira. Ezzy, D. (1998). Theorizing narrative identity: Symbolic interactionism and hermeneutics. Sociological Quarterly, 39(2), 239-252. Fairlie, R., Hoffman, F., & Oreopoulos, P. (2011). A community college instructor like me: Race and ethnicity interactions in the classroom. Cambridge, MA: National Bureau of Economic Research. Fry, R. (2011). Hispanic enrollment spikes, narrowing gaps with other groups. Washington, DC: Pew Hispanic Center. Gasman, M. (2009). Minority-serving colleges deserve more respect. Chronicle of Higher Education. Retrieved from http://chronicle.com/article/MinorityServing-Colleges-D/48726. Gonzáles, N., Moll, L. C., & Amanti, C. (2005). Funds of knowledge: Theorizing practices in households and classrooms. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. González, K., & Padilla, R. (2008). Doing the public good: Latina/o scholars engage civic participation. Sterling, VA: Stylus. Goodall, H. L., Jr. (1998, November). Notes for the autoethnography and autobiography panel NCA. Paper presented at the National Communication Association Convention, New York City, NY. Grant, C. (2012). Advancing our legacy: A Black feminist perspective on the significance of mentoring for African-American women in educational leadership. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 25(1), 99-115. Gurin, P., Dey, E., Hurtado, S., & Gurin, G. (2002). Diversity and higher education: Theory and impact on educational outcomes. Harvard Educational Review, 72(3), 330-366. Harper, S. R., & Hurtado, S. (2007). Nine themes in campus racial climates and implications for institutional transformation. New Directions for Student Services, 120, 7-24.

112   A.-M. NUÑEZ, E. MURAKAMI, and E. RUIZ Hausman, L. R. M., Schofield, J. W., & Woods, R. L. (2007). Sense of belonging as a predictor of intent to persist in college. Research in Higher Education, 48(7), 803-839. Hoffman, M., Richmond, J., Morrow, J., & Salomone, K. (2002). Investigating “sense of belonging” in first-year college students. Journal of College Students Retention: Research, Theory, and Practice, 4(3), 227-256. Hubbard, S., & Stage, F. (2009). Attitudes, perceptions, and preferences of faculty at Hispanic serving and predominantly Black institutions. The Journal of Higher Education, 80(3), 270-289. Hurtado, A. (2008). Introduction. In N. Cantu (Ed.), Paths to discovery: Autobiographies from Chicanas with careers in science, mathematics, and engineering. Los Angeles, CA: UCLA Chicano Studies Research Center Press. Hurtado, S., Alvarez, C., Guillermo-Wann, C., Cuellar, M., & Arellano, L. (2012). A model for diverse learning environments. In J. C. Smart & M.B. Paulsen (Eds.), Higher Education: Handbook of Theory and Research 27. Dordrecht: Springer. Hurtado, S., & Carter, D. F. (1997). Effects of college transition and perceptions of the campus racial climate on Latino college students’ sense of belonging. Sociology of Education, 70(1), 342-345. Hurtado, S., & Sharkness, J. (2008). Scholarship is changing, and so should tenure review. Academe, 94(5). Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011a). Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9). Diversity in Higher Education Series. Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011b). Women of color in higher education: Contemporary perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10). Diversity in Higher Education Series. Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Lincoln, Y. (1993). I and thou: Method, voice, and roles in research with the silenced. In D. McLaughlin & W. Tierney (Eds.), Naming silenced lives (pp. 29-47). New York, NY: Routledge. Murakami-Ramalho, E., Nuñez, A.-M., & Cuero, K. (2010). Latin@ advocacy in the hyphen: Faculty identity and commitment in a Hispanic-Serving Institution. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 23(6), 699-717. Neumann, A., & Peterson, P. (Eds.). (1997). Learning from our lives: Women, research, and autobiography in education. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Nuñez, A.-M., & Murakami-Ramalho, E. (2011). Advocacy in the hyphen: Perspectives from junior faculty at a Hispanic-Serving Institution. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future. Bingley, UK: Emerald Press. Nuñez, A.-M., Murakami-Ramalho, E., & Cuero, K. (2010). Pedagogy for equity: Teaching in a Hispanic Serving Institution. Innovative Higher Education, 35(3), 177-190. Oliva, M., Rodriguez, M. A., Alanís, I., & Quijada, P. (2011). At home in the academy: Latina faculty counterstories and resistances. Journal of the Professoriate, 6(1). Padilla, R., & Chavez, R. (1995). The leaning ivory tower: Latino professors in American universities. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.

Interrupting the Usual in the Academy   113 Padilla, R. V. (1993). Using dialogical research methods in group interviews. In D. L. Morgan (Ed.), Successful focus group methods: Advancing the state of an art (pp. 152-166). Newbury Park, CA: SAGE. Pascarella, E., & Terenzini, P. (2005). How college affects students. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Patton, M. (1990). Qualitative evaluation and research methods (2nd ed.). Newbury Park, CA: SAGE. Perna, L. W., Li, C., Walsh, E., & Raible, S. (2010). The status of equity for Hispanics in public higher education in Florida and Texas. Journal of Hispanic Higher Education, 9(2), 145-166. Polkinghorne, D. (1996). Explorations of narrative identity. Psychological Inquiry, 7(4), 363-367. Popkin, J. D. (2001). Coordinated lives: Between autobiography and scholarship. Biography, 24(4), 781-805. Population Reference Bureau. (2010). The 2010 Census questionnaire: Seven questions for everyone. Retrieved from http://www.prb.org/Articles/2009/questionnaire .apx Quijada, P., Ek, L., Alanís, I., & Murakami Ramalho, E. (2010). Transformative resistance as agency: Chicanas/Latinas re(creating) academic spaces. Journal of the Professoriate, 5(1), 70-98. Rendon, L. I. (1994). Validating culturally diverse students: Toward a new model of learning and student development. Innovative Higher Education, 19(1), 33-51. Rendon Linares, L. I., & Muñoz, S. (2011). Revisiting validation theory: Theoretical foundations, applications, and extensions. Enrollment Management Journal, 5(2), 12-33. Rockquemore, K., & Laszloffy, T. (2008). The Black academic’s guide to winning tenure—without losing your soul. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienne. Schlossberg, N. K. (1989). Marginality and mattering: Key issues in building community. In D. C. Roberts (Ed.), Designing campus activities to foster a sense of community (pp. 5-15). New Directions for Student Services, No. 48. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Schwandt, T. A. (2001). Dictionary of qualitative inquiry (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Smith, B., & Sparkes, A. C. (2008). Contrasting perspectives on narrating selves and identities: An invitation to dialogue. Qualitative Research, 8(1), 5–35. Smith, D. G. (2009). Diversity’s promise for higher education. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Smith, D. G., Turner, C. S., Osei-Kofi, N., & Richards, S. (2004). Interrupting the usual: Successful strategies for hiring diverse faculty. Journal of Higher Education, 75(2), 133-160. Solorzano, D., & Villalpando, O. (1998). Critical race theory, marginality, and the experience of students of color in higher education. In C. Torres & T. Mitchell (Eds.), Sociology of education: Emerging perspectives (pp. 211-224). Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Solorzano, D., & Yosso, T. (2001). Critical race and LatCrit theory and method: Counter-storytelling. Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(4), 471-495.

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Chapter 6

Grace at the Top A Black Feminist Perspective on Critical Leadership in the Academy Lorri J. Santamaría

Abstract Documented shortages of women of color in education, educational leadership, and tenure-line academic appointments in particular, compounded by their need for and benefit from mentoring and direct access, inspired this researcher to chronicle her own participatory journey from first-generation undergraduate student to academic appointment. This contribution will incorporate elements of testimonio—testimonial narrative—from a Black feminist perspective (Jara, 1986; M. Q. Patton, 2002). Data collection for the inquiry covered the span of 10 years and featured personal experiences and engagement of the author incorporating memories as captured by life notes, journal entries, scholarly papers, and published articles by the researcher as viable forms of data. In auto-ethnographic tradition, the author described her experiences in three phases.

The Duality of Women Scholars of Color: Transforming and Being Transformed in the Academy, pages 115–132 Copyright © 2014 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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Introduction African descent, American Indian, Latina, Asian/Pacific Islander, and Arab descent women in the United States, as well as many historically underserved women of color all over the world, live, love, and thrive in parallel universes alongside those of their mainstream and often White peers. The terms African descent and Black will be used interchangeably in this chapter to include Black women who are African American as well as those who are immigrants or children of immigrants from countries such as Haiti, Jamaica and all Caribbean islands, South America, Central America, Cuba, and the continent of Africa. The term women of color in this study refers to Black women as well as all women raced outside of Whiteness (Haney Lopez, 1998) as ethnicity or race including Native American, Latina, and Asian Pacific Island women in the United States. The term is also inclusive of international women (Johnson-Odin, 1991). Research cites the lack of role models, access to education, and meaningful mentoring opportunities for women of color, resulting in a paucity of strategies, information, and knowledge to interrupt and break historical cycles, leading to marginalization, poverty, and disengagement from society (Davidson & Foster-Johnson, 2001; Felder, 2010; Hill Collins, 1990; Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011). The ultimate challenge for women of color in the United States and all over the world is the historical power of societal status quo—even as the United States approaches a “majority minority” demographic shift (U.S. Census, 2011). Life, where the so-called minority constitutes the majority of the population, is the everyday reality for most international women of color (Mohanty, Russo, & Torres, 1991). Regardless, with respect to education in the United States and worldwide, hegemonic White male-dominated educational practices uphold political, institutional, and other socially constructed norms that are in direct opposition to recruiting, preparing, hiring, and sustaining Black women in positions of educational leadership and for recruiting, appointing, and supporting women of color in academia in the United States and all over the world. In this auto-ethnographic narrative case study, the author chronicles her unlikely path through academia resulting in her academic appointment at a predominantly White institution (PWI) in Southern California. The intent of this chapter is to unveil and make explicit this process from the author/researcher’s perspective, presenting three culturally significant experiences over a decade. Two broad research questions are considered throughout the disciplined inquiry for this study: (a) What are contributing factors that determine a first-generation Black woman’s choice to pursue an advanced degree? (b) In what ways can White mentors support or constrain a Black woman’s pursuit of advanced degree attainment?

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Literature reviewed to frame this study includes the brief theoretical underpinnings of a Black feminist perspective accompanied by applied critical leadership (ACL) in education (Santamaría & Santamaría, 2012). This review will be followed by research featuring Black women in educational leadership and higher education. A description of the methodology and findings as a three-part first-person narrative, summarizing the author’s experiences from an undergraduate student to her academic appointment in higher education, will follow. The chapter concludes with a discussion relating the author’s experiences to literature frames provided. Literature Review Black Feminist Perspective Neither White nor male, the notion of being “invisible” in a society that recognizes at least three waves of feminism in the United States can be frustrating for Black women in academia with aspirations toward advanced degree attainment or careers in educational leadership. Regardless, evidence indicates a parallel Black feminist movement in the United States that has recently transformed into a contemporary Black feminist paradigm (Roth, 2004). Mainstream assumptions are that the historical feminist movement immortalized in U.S. historical contexts was inclusive, representing the collective struggles of all women in the United States. However, Black women and other women of color who participated in the first, second, and third waves of the feminist movement report stratified hierarchical struggles (Cleaver, 1997; Davis & White, 1971; Walker, 1995). They describe each wave of the movement as exclusionary and that inequities experienced by White women did not represent those experienced by women of color (Roth, 2004). Consequently, an even more contemporary parallel Black feminist movement is emerging based on trial and error and the realization that “one cannot create space for herself without transforming the space situated around her” (Howard-Bostic, 2008, p. 1). This new way of thinking about Black feminism is intentional in opposing the oppressor while being responsive to multicultural, multiracial, and fluid sexual images within the context of systems of domination in present-day U.S. and global society (Limbert & Bullock, 2005; Senna, 1997; Taylor, 1998). Refreshingly progressive and not unlike research findings of Santamaría and Santamaría (2012), the current Black feminist movement relies on consensus and coalition building to solve critical problems for the greater good, providing a platform for scholars of Black and inclusive feminism

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to assert themselves, adding more comprehensive research and dialogue relating ways in which women’s scholarship and experience can harness and reconceptualize power as energy. Applied Critical Leadership Embedded in a study that yielded findings suggesting reliance on collaboration as a strategy used by leaders of color, many of whom were women, is the consideration of the experiences of nine leaders of color in various educational contexts, spanning over one year (Santamaría, 2013; Santamaría & Santamaría, 2012). The researchers were looking to empirically substantiate a strengths-based model of leadership practice in which educational leaders of color would consider the social context of their educational communities and their ability to empower individual members of those communities based on their own identities, using the lens of critical race theory. From their findings, the researchers identified a model called Applied Critical Leadership (ACL). The approach, based on a complex hybrid theoretical framework, combining transformative leadership, critical pedagogy, critical race theory, and critical multiculturalism, found that women of color are able to view aspects of their difference as commodities rather than liabilities, which positively influence their leadership practice (May & Sleeter, 2010; Kezar, 2008; Ladson-Billings, 2009; Shields, 2010). This study is important because it exemplifies the “action” or operationalization of Black feminist theory bridging theory to practice, deeming the work relevant and practical. Black Women in Educational Leadership and Higher Education Educational Leadership Research reveals that in educational leadership, difference of race, ethnicity, and gender were not always considered differences of consequence with regard to effective practice (Bass, 1981). As a result, over time, little attention has been given to the need to increase cultural, linguistic, or other diversity among the ranks of educational leaders (McGee Banks, 2007). When Black women and other women of color are hired to work in leadership positions, they report ways in which their identities affect their practices (Jean-Marie & Lloyd-Jones, 2011; Santamaría & Santamaría, 2012). Further, research findings in educational leadership indicate few efforts to recruit, hire, or develop leaders who are women of color in educational contexts (McGee Banks, 2007).

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Further, research findings on the perspectives of underrepresented Black women in educational administration positions describe the difficulties they experience in attaining their positions (Edson, 1987; Grant, 2012; McGee Banks, 2007). These challenges include “initiation” processes undergone when hired, the necessity of mentoring, the existence of a “hidden curriculum” with regard to educational leadership in a broad sense, and the need for professional development to sustain their practices and effective leadership (Edson, 1987; Jean-Marie, 2006; Ortiz, 1982; Santamaría & Santamaría, 2012). With renewed attention to social justice and equity, the field is seemingly responsive to issues such as the underrepresentation of women of color in leadership. However, scholarship in this area rarely features the practices of leaders who make race, class, gender, disability, sexual orientation, and other historically marginalizing conditions essential to their practice in the ways women educational leaders of color might (Hernandez, 2010; Shields, 2010; Theoharis, 2007; Tillman, 2001). Higher Education Analogous to the situation for Black women in educational administration is their shortage in higher education. Researchers on women of color in academia reveal that these women have limited access to practical professional information, role models, and direction with regard to seeking positions of employment in higher education, as well as in pursuit of advanced degrees (Felder, 2010; Jean-Marie, 2008; Tillman, 2003). When women of color acquire academic appointments, these supports seem even more difficult to come by, causing them to reach out across institution, county, state, and even continental borders and boundaries to foster support networks with each other in order to sustain their positions. Often academic positions evolve into leadership opportunities for these individuals, as there are so few women of color in professional leadership roles to lead, inspire, and influence others. Likewise, advanced degree attainment has proved difficult for women of color, with research findings citing a lack of access to information, role model/mentors, and relevant resources, and a lack of time, all impediments to women for exploring master’s and doctoral programs (Felder, 2010; Grant & Simmons, 2008: Jean-Marie & Brooks, 2011). Several qualitative research studies have identified the need for mentors for these women, who often aspire to academic careers in higher education, including those specific to educational leadership (Davidson & Foster-Johnson, 2001). Researchers suggest that mentors of women of color in graduate programs of study can help break the barriers that hinder degree completion by contributing to a sense of belonging/

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family while assisting students in the navigation of cultural issues and conflicts (Felder, 2010; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Holmes, Ebbers, Robinson, & Mugenda, 2000; Patton, 2009). Having support from mentors increases success rates for degree completion (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008); however, race, gender, and ethnic identities play roles in the types of mentoring relationships established. In summary, women of color face unique challenges in higher education and educational leadership based on a history of oppression and marginalization described by Black feminists and confirmed in related studies. Therefore, conventional support strategies that may work for other students may not work for this group (Grant & Simmons, 2008). Although mentoring provides significant benefits (Larke, Patitu, Webb-Johnson, & Young-Hawkins, 1999), additional layers of mentoring are needed to combat years of historical oppression (Grant & Simmons, 2008; JeanMarie & Brooks, 2011). Regardless of identity, mentors are critical and influential to the success of protégés; however, there are few known models for supporting Black women at PWIs (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; Jean-Marie & Brooks, 2011). There is a prevailing assumption that Black professors at PWIs want to mentor Black students (Lee & Watkins, 2004), offering proof that in some cases, women of color are more successful with mentors who have a salient identity as mentioned earlier. Method Naturalistic narrative inquiry was chosen for this work because it incorporates natural observation carried out in real-world contexts where real-world situations unfold naturally and where what emerges can be observed without predetermined constraints on findings (LaPiere, 1934; Patton, 2002). Qualitative observation requires the researcher to remember exactly what has been observed. The author/researcher’s memories and experiences as captured by extant and mostly written data were woven into this study, as the researcher and subject were one in the same. Data collected included personal experiences and engagement as part of her own remembered and recorded experiences (e.g., field notes, personal documents, scholarly papers, articles) translated into what is referred to as testimonio—testimonial narrative­ —counterstory, or auto-ethnography found in similar research studies (Solórzano & Yosso, 2002). These artifacts represented important parts of the inquiry critical to understanding the phenomena and were collected in natural settings, presented in first-person narratives as is consistent with narrative methodology (Patton, 2002).

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Data Collection Narrative storytelling can be found deep in the cultures of African descent, Mexican descent, and American Indian women in the United States and indigenous cultures around the world, and it also has a place in the history of the feminist movement (Delgado, 1989; Lawrence, 1992). In these cases the narrator functioned “as an organic individual” (Beverley, 2007, p. 549; Reinharz, 1992). These stories or testimonios are considered naraciones de urgencia—emergency narratives—and are often told in first person by an individual who is the personal eyewitness of the events recounted (Jara, 1986). While presenting testimonio and personal counterstory, the data as presented will also be auto-ethnographic in that the “researcher will turn the analytic lens on [herself] and her interactions with others” writing and interpreting her own account of experiences relevant to the inquiry underway (Chase, 2007, p. 660). Data considered for the study date from 1991, when the researcher was an undergraduate student, to early 2012. Participant The researcher, participant, and author of this contribution is a Black Spanish-speaking woman. Currently, she is senior faculty at a leading research-intensive university in New Zealand in Educational Leadership for Equity and Diversity. When this chapter was written, she was full professor of education and a practicing leader in higher education. Of note, she was a first-generation college graduate and the first person in her family to attain an advanced degree. She comes from a working-class military family, where her father served in the U.S. Air Force as a noncommissioned officer throughout the course of her childhood. As a result, she was born in Spain, lived there for nearly a decade, and lived on both coasts of the United States. Her parents and numerous aunts, uncles, and grandparents are from or reside in Louisiana, where she spent her summers. The realities of being Black in the United States and abroad were often addressed throughout her childhood and teenage years. Data Analysis Data were analyzed using “inductive analysis and creative synthesis which require[d] an immersion in details and specifics [of the data sources] to discover important patterns, themes, and interrelationships” (Patton, 2002, p. 41). This began by exploring and confirming the data sources,

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guided by analytic principles rather than rules and ended with a creative synthesis (Patton, 2002). The analysis was inductive in that it explored, confirmed, and concluded with a creative synthesis, wherein the author owned and was reflective about her own voice and perspective (Holman Jones, 2007). Because of this reality, the researcher was mindful of depicting the world “authentically in all its complexity of being self-analytical, politically aware, and reflexive in consciousness” (Patton, 2002, p. 41). Findings Findings were organized and are presented by way of composite firstperson personal counterstories based on multiple experiences for each of three experiential phases. Pseudonyms were used for each individual. The researcher composes her stories as “theoretical, methodological, and pedagogical tools to challenge racism, sexism, and classism to work toward social justice” (Beverley, 2007, p. 548; Solórzano & Yosso, 2002, p. 23). The Undergraduate Years: First Encounter With a Female Faculty of Color Dr. Olivia Mendoza was a new assistant professor at the “Research One” university where I pursued my first degree. She was a breath of fresh air after I’d fought tooth and nail to be admitted into the teacher credential program. The heavily accented Dr. Mendoza from Chile was the only person in a classroom of 300 who seemed even remotely like me. She taught my first class, Human Development. Thank goodness she was one of my first professors, as she was the only woman of color I had for a professor in 8 years at that university. Even though her large lecture style class met once a week, I made a point to personally reach out to Dr. Mendoza with her burnished skin and coarse black bob. She seemed as happy to meet me as I was to meet her. I shared my enthusiasm about learning Vygotsky’s (1978) zone of proximal development and the sociocultural theory of Tharp and Gallimore (1988). Shortly thereafter, she gave me my first Paulo Freire book, and thus I began my journey into a new kind of education, one that resonated with my desire to do something outside of myself, something to make the world a better place. Dr. Mendoza and I began meeting once a week to discuss my learning in her class, what she had me read on the side, and the real-world learning that was taking place at the institution in which we worked. Before long, understanding the benefits of learning how to conduct research

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and recognizing the mentorship being offered by Dr. Mendoza, I became one of the few undergraduate research assistants on the campus. I don’t know whether Dr. Mendoza had “mentoring” conversations with the other students; however, she encouraged me to continue my studies and attain a master’s degree, although at the time my goal was to graduate with a bachelor of arts (BA) in bilingual teaching and get a job. She taught me that I could make a difference and maybe one day change the world. Under her direction, that world grew much larger, and the reality of Spanish as a vehicle for connecting me with people of color in other nations bound by colonialism, slavery, discrimination, and other oppressions based on race, class, and gender gave me new hope and purpose. She soon left the university where we’d met, not knowing that I had gone on for my master’s and PhD degrees in later years. I was delighted when, at a recent research and education conference, I saw her walking briskly toward the escalator. I called her by her first name for the first time. She turned quickly, looked into my face, and recognized me immediately. Upon meeting this time around and hearing about my work in education and educational leadership, she said she had not known that I had followed directly into her footsteps as my last name had changed with marriage. Her sudden relocation, she explained, was due to her husband’s academic appointment and their desire to start a family; this detail was shared somewhat apologetically. I understood. Dr. Mendoza did not realize the profound impact she had on my life, and it was gratifying to thank her face-to-face. She was intrigued with the ways in which my career transformed into one focused on educational leadership for social justice and equity and the ways that I deliberately choose to mentor other students, in particular women of color in educational contexts. This was based largely on the template she provided by mentoring me. I let her know how blessed I was by her time, attention, and training. We hugged and went our separate ways, knowing that each would continue to work toward the greater good. We were co-laborers in a shared struggle no matter how far apart. Teaching and Diversity: Connecting With Students Beyond the Classroom My first real teaching job was a Spanish-English bilingual position. I learned that many of my students spoke Spanish, not as their native language, but as a third or fourth language to the other indigenous languages spoken in their homes (e.g., Mixteca). I also learned that a few of my students were from Guatemala and several were American Indian, representing the Tohono’ O ’Odham tribe, and didn’t speak Spanish at all.

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There was a point when, during those years, I became a specialist of inclusion and culturally and linguistically diverse children with special needs. I was somewhat isolated working in a portable classroom at the back of the school. During that time, I can recall specific moments of clarity. For example, I remember driving out past two reservations—more than 30 miles away from the school—to meet with the parent of Jesus, a child in my second-grade class with spinal bifida. “I’m sure this family is grateful for the bus transportation offered by the special education program,” I thought bitterly en route to my home visit. I had to knock on several trailer doors to find my student’s “house.” When the mother opened the door to what looked to me to be a weekend camper, she proudly welcomed me inside, introducing herself to me along the way, which amounted to exactly three small steps. She was busy making homemade corn tortillas on the camper stove. Sitting across from the door on the bed, which consisted of a plywood platform suspended by two chains topped with a 1½-inch foam mattress, was my student, Jesus, glowing with happiness from the inside, delighted to see me in his home. “Come, sit next to me Maestra—teacher,” he said enthusiastically, “this is my Mom. Welcome to our try-ee-lah (trailer/home).” I was overwhelmed with emotion as my senses shifted into overload. In the corner of the trailer was his wheelchair, as dusty as ever and now I understood why. There was no room inside for him to move; therefore, the only place he could get around in a trailer was outside on the gravel surrounding the camper. I tried to imagine his mother lifting the wheelchair down the metal trailer steps every day and then lifting Jesus into the chair and Jesus wheeling himself over to the bus for the long bus ride to school. When I left that highly informative conference, I had a clearer understanding of what I was actually called to do as a teacher, and my job was working against the status quo and for the betterment of oppressed people. Culturally relevant teaching took on a whole new meaning for me, as did advocacy for students in special education, immigrant families, and students living in poverty. I had clarity, and my teaching pedagogy and practice, my praxis, were changed forever. Unlikely Mentors: The Reality of Cultural Dissonance During my first year of teaching and prior to my epiphanies about teaching for social justice and equity, I had frequent visitors to my bilingual third-grade classroom. As it turned out, two of the researchers were

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professors of special education at the same university where I had studied. I shared with them my experience as an undergraduate researcher under the direction of Dr. Mendoza and indicated my interest in assisting them with their data collection. They thought this was an excellent idea. Over the course of 5 years, Tammy, Bill, and I wrote, co-taught, researched, traveled, presented, and experienced scholarly life as a unit. Although Bill was White, he was a Spanish speaker, and so we had some conversations and interactions involving cultural contexts from a Latino perspective. Tammy had adopted a son from Korea 2 years into my doctoral program. As a result, we had some superficial conversations pertaining to multicultural education. When my research began to take on a critical lens perspective (as I attempted to integrate critical pedagogy into issues of overrepresentation of children of color in special education), my mentors, unversed in issues related to social justice and equity, suggested that I work with professors in the area of language, culture, and literacy at the university to complete the theoretical framework of my dissertation research. At that point, I sensed our shared values unravel a bit, yet the language, culture, and literacy professors informed a strong critical theory lens to my work that I still retain. I expected an optimistic end to my season with Bill and Tammy. Alas, shortly after I defended my doctoral dissertation, these mentors whom I loved and considered my academic parents presented me with the most bizarre and telling artifact. I pulled a cold and hard object out of the gailycolored celebratory gift bag, and I was at a loss for words. There, staring at me with bulging yellow eyes and a grotesque thick cherry-colored smile was a southern antebellum mammy in the guise of a cookie jar. She was large and looked happily in charge, adorned with the quintessential bandanna on her head and a large spoon in her hand. She was decked out, head to toe, in a blue and white standard maid’s outfit, apron and all. I could not tell, but I was sure under her fluffy white skirt, mammy was bare foot. Through the haze of palpable shock, I can still remember Tammy sensing my discomfort and breaking the silence by saying something about how relics like this were worth a lot of money and growing in value every day. Bill had clearly gone “in” on the joint gift, but I don’t think he knew about it, he could not have I thought, for he looked as shocked as I was. Maybe I imagined his shock as some bizarre way of protecting myself. To this day, I am still saddened and disturbed by this insensitive gift. Mammy signaled for me a manifestation of the cultural disconnect that separated me from my mentors. I had always suspected it was there but never wanted to see it or confront the truth.

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Discussion of the Research Questions What Contributing Factors Determine Whether a FirstGeneration Black Woman Chooses to Pursue Advanced Degrees? Black Feminist Perspective Dr. Mendoza was not a Black woman, but she utilized a decidedly feminist agenda to negotiate her personal and professional lives. Throughout the course of our relationship, she deliberately passed on a similar perspective to me. She was the first influential woman of color in my life who taught me that I needed to recognize who I was within the racial, cultural, gendered, and political contexts of the university I was attending and the greater world in which I lived. She also made certain I understood the critical need to further my studies if I wanted to be a part of significant educational change. Her mentoring style, although not technically from a Black feminist perspective, represented a type of feminism that placed itself outside of Whiteness (Haney Lopez, 1998). Like Hill Collins (1990), Dr. Mendoza understood that “age, sexual orientation, race, social class, and religion were distinctive ‘systems of oppression’ and part of one overarching structure of domination” (p. 222). She recognized that I was a Black woman, but she also recognized that our oppressions were what bound us and that we were both affected by the “universal process of domination, being denied access to the podium” (pp. 222, 226). She revealed to me ways that I could identify with countless others unlike and yet very much like myself based on our shared historical and contemporary experiences with oppression (Hill Collins, 1990). In response to the traditional PWI where we found ourselves, she took it upon herself to foster the creation of an alternative community in order to empower me and two other women of color pursuing master’s degrees. In this alternative community of empowerment, we collectively opposed our oppressor and made up our own rules, weaving power into energy (Limbert & Bullock, 2005; Senna, 1997; Taylor, 1998). In retrospect, I have come to understand Dr. Mendoza’s influence on my life as an example of the way in which “power as energy could be fostered by creative acts of resistance” (Hill Collins, 1990, p. 223), with the creative act of resistance being our generation of meaningful research in an area that directly impacted a community equally oppressed with an educational context. Black Women in Higher Education Dr. Mendoza convinced me that I could be successful as a graduate student, and she provided me with a meaningful social justice and educational

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equity rationale. She mentored me directly and told me countless times how education was still a “game changer” for women and how I needed to get as much of it as I could. “Es como las vitaminas—It’s like vitamins,” she would say, “that no one could ever take away.” Tammy and Bill were similarly able to influence my consideration of advanced studies for meaningful purpose and in addition provided access to a feasible opportunity and “membership” in a supportive higher education community; they provided promise for financial resources to support a graduate program. My relationships with Dr. Mendoza, Tammy, and Bill demonstrate the reality that mentors played a major role in influencing and sustaining my graduate studies (Felder, 2010). Without these individuals, I would not have had such a clear and direct path to educational leadership in higher education. Data from this inquiry reveal that mentoring remains the centerpiece of Black women’s success in advanced degree attainment and surviving higher education experiences. My interactions with Dr. Mendoza are in alignment with research findings that describe reciprocity and co-mentoring (Holmes & Rivera, 2004). I believe she got as much out of our mentoring interactions as I did. As long as we were working together as a community of researchers, Dr. Mendoza did not have to conduct her research alone. I also felt a sense of belonging, and if I needed to navigate a cultural issue or conflict, I knew she would have been able to provide the kind of support I needed (Felder, 2010; Holmes et al., 2000; Patton, 2009). I was blessed to have an experience of mentoring by a woman of color at a PWI, a rare and desirable model for Black and other women of color according to research findings (Grant & Simmons, 2008; Holmes et al., 2000; Lee, 1999; Tillman, 2001). In What Ways Do White Mentors Support or Constrain Black Women Pursuing Advanced Degree Attainment? Black Women in the Academy In my narrative, I describe the benefits and detriments of having White mentors. On the one hand, Tammy and Bill were able to guide me on my career trajectory (Holmes et al., 2000; Jean-Marie, 2006). On the other hand, they were definitely limited in their ability to advise me with issues of racism, oppression, or discrimination. Even when critical issues were put within scholarly contexts, such as my desire to take a closer look at issues of overrepresentation of children of color in special education, they referred me to “specialists” in the areas of critical theory (Grant & Simmons, 2008). As Patton (2009) found, I did experience a palpable ambiguity during my

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time with Tammy and Bill, and I always had the notion of “it’s too good to be true” in the back of my mind. As a developing Black feminist, I don’t want to dwell on the negatives of being mentored by people with whom I had little in common. However, this is the space in which to say a part of me wants to examine the notion of reciprocity in our relationship. For example, I want to ask myself the question, what did they get out of mentoring me? What was being fulfilled for them in teaching me to write academically, refine my data-collection skills, and co-author? A part of me does not want to engage in this analysis. I don’t think I want to get into any kind of realization of domination and beliefs in superior and inferior ways of being. A part of me is resisting the realization that I have been “seduced, pressured, or forced, to replace my individual and cultural ways of knowing [with] the dominant group’s specialized thought” (Hill Collins, 1990, p. 227). I am uncomfortable with this possible reality. I want to reject dimensions of knowledge that perpetuate my objectification. This realization makes me want to run to Black feminist perspectives and camp there, feeling “substantiated by my own sense of my own experience and those who like me anchor our knowledge claims in Afrocentric feminist epistemology, producing a rich tradition of Black feminist thought” (p. 228). In this way, I embrace myself as an agent of knowledge and in a way reject huge chunks of what I have learned as an educated Black woman in Western society. Conclusions and Implications This inquiry functions as a contribution to information about the ways in which Black women are able to find success in advanced degree attainment and the pursuit of educational careers in leadership. Because of its application of Black feminist theory and its use of the author’s narrative, it also served as a mechanism for the researcher to examine her understanding of Black feminist theory and her role and participation in meaningful acts of social justice and educational equity. The work challenged the author researcher to further contemplate and work more diligently toward feminist causes in the near future. The study’s major contribution rests in the validation of research and literature that describes the tantamount importance of mentoring and role models for Black women and other women of color who strive to be the “first” in their families or communities to pursue advanced educational degrees or influential positions of educational leadership (Holmes & Rivera, 2004; Patton, 2009). Also of value is the notion that Black feminist theory in its more modern iterations might be useful for other women

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of color to consider in their work toward a more functional and equitable society and world (Johnson-Odin, 1991). The author demonstrates vulnerability in her utilization of Black feminist theory with regard to her realization of the depth of level of oppression associated with being Black and a woman in a society where neither identity is valued. Her honest reflection regarding the different types of mentoring from different individuals and opportunities presented to her revealed internal tension and conflict that may be associated with some perception of personal privilege. Her perspective reveals the reality of diversity within Black women and an atypical experience to add to the stories of Black women in the United States who are able to work toward change in educational contexts for the greater good beyond their particular circumstances. Finally, findings from the narrative analysis indicate a spiritual aspect to leadership in general and from the author’s experience in particular. Divine energy is what fuels the researcher and what originally inspired her to take up work in the field of education. This is important to note, as the task of working against or alongside the power of societal status quo with hegemonic male-dominated educational practices upholding norms is a primordial challenge seemingly impossible to overcome. Winning, however, is neither the goal of the author/researcher nor other women of color she encountered throughout the decade depicted in the study. It is the promise of the power of education harnessed, reconceptualized, and woven into change, made possible by creating strong coalitions with other historically oppressed individuals, particularly women of color, from which we can expect great things for our future. References Bass, B. M. (1981). Stogdill’s handbook of leadership. New York, NY: Free Press. Beverley, J. (2007). Testimo, subalternity, and narrative authority. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The Sage handbook of qualitative research (3rd ed., pp. 547-557). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Chase, S. (2007). Narrative inquiry: Multiple lenses, approaches, voices. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The Sage handbook of qualitative research (3rd ed., pp. 651–679). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Cleaver, K. N. (1997). Racism, civil rights, and feminism. In A. K. Wing (Ed.), Critical race feminism: A reader (pp. 35-43). New York, NY: New York University Press. Davidson, M., & Foster-Johnson, L. (2001). Mentoring in preparation of graduate researchers of color. Review of Educational Research, 71(4), 549-574. Davis, A., & White, D. G. (1971). Reflections on the black woman’s role in the community of slaves. Black Scholar, 3(4), 3-15.

130   L. J. SANTAMARÍA Delgado, R. (1989). Storytelling for oppositionists and others: A plea for narrative. Michigan Law Review, 87, 2411-2441. Edson, S. K. (1987). Voices from the present: Tracking the female administrative aspirant. Journal of Educational Equity and Leadership, 7, 261-277. Felder, P. (2010). On doctoral student development: Exploring faculty mentoring in the shaping of African American doctoral student success. The Qualitative Report, 15, 455-474. Grant, C. (2012). Advancing our legacy: A Black feminist perspective on the significance of mentoring for African-American women in educational leadership. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 25(1), 99-115. Grant, C., & Simmons, J. (2008). Narratives on experiences of African-American women in the academy: Conceptualizing effective mentoring relationships of doctoral student and faculty. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 21, 501-517. Haney Lopez, I. (1998). White by law: The legal construction of race. New York, NY: New York University Press. Hernandez, F. (2010). Critical components of preparing professionals for social justice across three disciplines: Implications for school leadership programs. Special Issue, Journal of Research on Leadership Education, 5(3.1), 43-47. Hill Collins, P. (1990). Black feminist thought in the matrix of domination. In P. H. Collins (Eds.), Black feminist thought: knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment. Boston, MA: Unin Hyman. Holman Jones, S. (2007). Autoethnography: Making the personal political. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The Sage handbook of qualitative research (3rd ed., pp. 763-791). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Holmes, S. L., Ebbers, L. H., Robinson, D. C., & Mugenda, A. (2000). Validating African American students at predominantly White institutions. College of Student Retention: Research, Theory & Practice, 2, 41-58. Holmes, S. L., & Rivera, M. (2004). Co-conspirators (peer mentors) in sacred grove: Reflections from the lives of female graduate students. National Association of Student Affairs Professionals Journal, 7, 1-134. Howard-Bostic, C. D. (2008). Stepping out of the third wave: A contemporary black feminist paradigm. Public Forum on Policy. Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, 1-7. Retrieved from http://forumonpublicpolicy.com/ summer08papers/archivesummer08/howardbostic.pdf Jara, R. (1986). Prólogo. In R. Jara & H. Vidal (Eds.), Testimonio y literatura (pp. 1-3). Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota, Institute for the Study of Ideologies and Literatures. Jean-Marie, G. (2006). Welcoming the unwelcomed: A social justice imperative of African-American female leaders at historically Black colleges and universities. Educational Foundations, 20(1-2), 85-104. Jean-Marie, G. (2008). Leadership for social justice: An agenda for 21st century schools. The Educational Forum, 72(4) 340-354. Jean-Marie, G., & Brooks, J. (2011). Mentoring and supportive networks for women of color in academe. In G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of color in higher education: Contemporary perspectives and new directions (Vol. 10, pp. 91107). Diversity in Higher Education Series. Bingley, UK: Emerald Group.

Grace at the Top   131 Jean-Marie, G., & Lloyd-Jones, B. (Eds.). (2011). Women of color in higher education: Turbulent past, promising future (Vol. 9). Diversity in Higher Education Series. Bingley, UK: Emerald Group. Johnson-Odin, C. (1991). Common themes, different contexts. In C. T. Mohanty, A. Russo, & L. Torres (Eds.), Third world women and the politics of feminism (pp. 314-327). Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Kezar, A. (2008). Advancing diversity agendas on campus: Examining transactional and transformational presidential leadership styles. International Journal of Leadership in Education, 11(4), 379-405. Ladson-Billings, G. (2009). “Who you callin’ nappy-headed?” A critical race theory look at the construction of Black women. Race, Ethnicity and Education, 12(1), 87-99. LaPiere, R. (1934). Attitudes vs. actions. Social Forces, 13, 230-237. Larke, P. J., Patitu, C. L., Webb-Johnson, G., & Young-Hawkins, L. (1999). Embracing minority graduate students: The mentoring approach. NASAP Journal, 2, 47-55. Lawrence, C. (1992). The word and the river: Pedagogy as scholarship as struggle. Southern California Law Review, 65, 2231-2298. Lee, W. Y. (1999). Striving toward effective retention: The effect of race on mentoring African American students. Peabody Journal of Education, 74, 27-43. Lee, W. Y., & Watkins, G. H. (2004). Retaining the m-generation: Examining the importance of race and age in mentoring African American students. National Association of Student Affairs Professionals, 7, 63-78. Limbert, W. M., & Bullock, H. E. (2005). Playing the fool: US welfare policy from a critical race perspective. Feminism and Psychology, 15(3), 253-274. May, S., & Sleeter, C. E. (2010). Critical multiculturalism: Theory and praxis. New York, NY: Routledge. McGee Banks, C. A. (2007). Gender and race factors in educational leadership and administration. In Educational leadership (pp. 299-338). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Mohanty, C. T., Russo, A., & Torres, L. (Eds.). (1991). Third world women and the politics of feminism. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Ortiz, F. I. (1982). Career patterns in education: Men, women and minorities in public school administration. New York, NY: Praeger. Patton, L. D. (2009). My sister’s keeper: A qualitative examination of mentoring experiences among African-American women in graduate and professional schools. Journal of Higher Education, 80(5), 510-537. Patton, M. Q. (2002). Qualitative research and evaluation methods (3rd ed., pp. 40-41). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Roth, B. (2004). Separate roads to feminism. New York: Cambridge University Press. Santamaría, L. J. (2013). Critical change for the greater good: Multicultural dimensions of educational leadership toward social justice and educational equity. Education Administration Quarterly (EAQ), doi: 10.1177/0013161X13505287. Santamaría, L. J., & Santamaría, A. P. (2012). Applied critical leadership in education: Choosing change. New York, NY: Routledge. Senna, D. (1997). Caucasia. New York, NY: Riverhead Books.

132   L. J. SANTAMARÍA Shields, C. (2010). Transformative leadership: Working for equity in diverse contexts. Educational Administration Quarterly, 46(4), 558-589. Solórzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2002). Critical race methodology: Counter storytelling as an analytical framework for educational research. Qualitative Inquiry, 8(1), 23-44. Taylor, U. Y. (1998). Making waves: The theory and practice of black feminism. Black Scholar, 28(2), 18-28. Tharp, R. G., & Gallimore, R. (1988). Rousing minds to life: Teaching, learning, and schooling in social context. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press. Theoharis, G. (2007). Social justice educational leaders and resistance: Toward a theory of social justice leadership. Educational Administration Quarterly, 43, 221-258. Tillman, L. C. (2001). Mentoring African American faculty in predominantly White institutions. Research in Higher Education, 42(3), 295-325. Tillman, L. C. (2003). From rhetoric to reality? Educational administration and the lack of racial and ethnic diversity within the profession. University Council for Educational Administration Review, 45(3), 1-4. U.S. Census Bureau. (2011). Demographic profile report. Retrieved from http://2010. census.gov/news/press-kits/demographic-profiles.html Vygotsky, L. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Cambridge, MA: President and Fellows of Harvard College. Walker, R. (1995). To be real: Telling the truth and changing the face of feminism. New York, NY: Anchor.

Chapter 7

Remaining Connected to the Sociocultural Experiences of Underserved Populations Volunteering and Advocacy in Research and Practice in the Academy Brenda Lloyd-Jones

Abstract Follow your passion! Do what you love! These adages are important for people who are planning their lives and careers. These statements and their assumed favorable results have an important meaning for African American women faculty, many of whom are at predominantly White institutions and have research agendas focused on people and communities of color. But other issues impinge on their career plans, so that just following their passion may not be enough if they choose to focus their research on issues outside

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134  B. LLOYD-JONES of the dominant culture in higher education. Using auto-ethnographic data, the author reflects on facets of her personal, social, and cultural experiences to explore ways in which these defining moments have informed the contours of her own scholarship in the academy.

Introduction Many faculty members, especially those who belong to groups underrepresented in academe, have a propensity to research topics relevant to their own experiences or concerns. For example, in a study of 16 women professors at a predominantly White institution (PWI), 10 were faculty of color, Baez (2011) found that professors of color, despite their disciplines, focused their research on issues of race and ethnicity and “the intersections of these constructs with gender, class, sexuality, and so on” (p. 244). Further, these academics felt an ethical responsibility to address race and ethnic concerns and were convinced that their research contributions were essential to the advancement of their respective fields (Baez, 2000, 2011). The importance of understanding factors contributing to faculty’s research focus areas is especially relevant for African American women because this group of professors tends to focus on individuals and groups living in underserved communities, a practice that can put them at a disadvantage when considering promotion and tenure (Fenelon, 2003; Stanley, 2006; Turner, 2002). Bringing about the lived sociocultural experiences of African American women into scholarship discourse could augment the limited research on this often marginalized group. In higher education, “efforts to study gender and race within specific socio-cultural contexts” (Peplau, Veniegas, Taylor, & DeBro, 1999, p. 27) will significantly enrich the understanding of populations such as African American female professors. This exploration also has implications for fostering a more inclusive academic community, one considerate of colleagues whose epistemological and ontological perspectives may not mirror mainstream scholarship. Purpose of Study The purpose of this study was to understand how my personal, social, and cultural experiences have informed the contours of my own research progress through the academy. The following broad question guided this study: How have my social and cultural experiences influenced my scholarship at a PWI? Throughout this chapter, the terms African American and Black are used interchangeably.

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Conceptual Framework In this study, I focus on the scholarly research interests of African American women faculty in PWIs using pivotal experiences from my own life as examples. I construct a conceptual framework from a review of literature centering on (a) a sociocultural theoretical perspective of African American experiences in the United States, (b) African American women faculty experiences in the academy, and (c) research interests of faculty of color in higher education. Sociocultural Theoretical Perspective of African Americans’ Experiences in the United States The role of theory in the context of this exploration is its ability to explain the ways in which sociocultural experiences inform one faculty member’s research interests. I use sociocultural theory as a theoretical lens to explore my sociocultural experiences and the ways in which they have informed my central research interests in the academy. Sociocultural theory has its origins in the work of the psychologist Lev Vygotsky (1978) and his colleagues, who believed that key people, groups, and organizations are essentially socialization agents and are primarily responsible for socializing individuals in a society (Perry & Perry, 2009). A sociocultural approach emphasizes the interaction between people, their culture, and the society in which they live. Hence, culture functions to impart a sense of self, identity, and belonging to its members through shared values, beliefs, behaviors, and perceptions (Peplau et al., 1999, p. 27). Sociocultural theory suggests that each society develops a culture distinct from other cultures in response to a specific condition, environment, or circumstance. The social condition of individuals and groups in a society shapes their knowledge and worldview given that it is in that condition or environment that people experience life and, subsequently, form values, develop beliefs, and practice rituals (Brown, Gourdine, & Crewe, 2011). For example, African Americans have historically endured the harsh and oppressive conditions of racism that permeated their lives, refusing them access to resources and opportunities (Belgrave & Allison, 2006; Jean-Marie, 2005). Although African Americans in general have gained increasing opportunities in economic, social, and political sectors in contemporary society, social ills persist, such as poverty, which is a devastating reality for many African Americans. Nearly half of African American children live in poverty in the United States today (U.S. Census Bureau, 2011). In addition, while unemployment

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among the general population is about 9.1%, it is at 16.2% for African Americans (U.S. Census Bureau, 2011). Moreover, empirical research documents alarming sociocultural realities for many Black and poor citizens in the United States (U.S. Census Bureau, 2011). These individuals frequently suffer the brunt of housing inequalities, educational injustices, health disparities, high unemployment, and a criminal justice system that disproportionately incarcerates them. These pervasive and chronic social conditions often become the main focus of African American faculty members’ research agendas. In such instances, by focusing research interests on marginalized populations of color, African American scholars become social justice agents within this system of scholarship (Molina, 2008). African American Women Faculty Experiences in the Academy African Americans comprise more than 13% of the U.S. population, but they represent a mere 5% of all postsecondary faculty members (Modica & Mamiseishvili, 2010; Ryu, 2010). Further, Black women are conspicuously underrepresented in PWIs (Grant, 2012; Grant & Simmons, 2008; JeanMarie, 2011; Lloyd-Jones, 2009, 2011a). Some researchers have identified reasons for these low numbers in academia, and Ford (2011) has synthesized the literature on Black faculty experiences in PWIs: • The “Chilly Climate” Problem: Universities and colleges are isolating environments for Women of Color (WOC) faculty; a lack of institutional support subsequently affects hiring, retention, mentoring relationships, promotion, and tenure (Antonio, 2002; Olsen, Maple, & Stage, 1995; Turner, 2002). • Issues of Legitimacy: WOC report difficulty gaining respect and credibility as qualified teachers and scholars from students and faculty (Harlow, 2003; Johnsrud & Sadao, 1998). • Tokenization and Cultural Taxation: WOC are expected to teach about issues of race, mentor students of color, and serve on diversity committees. WOC are overburdened as token representatives for their respective racial groups (Baez, 2000; Sekaquaptewa & Thompson, 2002). • Balancing Personal and Professional Roles: WOC faculty have to learn to negotiate family life effectively, commit to service in the community, and advance their own career goals (Mason, Goulden, & Wolfinger, 2006; Turner & Myers, 2000).

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• The Glass-Ceiling Effect: WOC faculty members encounter race and gender gaps in wages and slower promotion rates than their White and male colleagues (Balerrama, Teixeira, & Valdez, 2004). (p. 145) Ideally, all administrators and faculty should feel part of the university, but literature repeatedly documents that African American women faculty do not fare as well as other faculty members in becoming “productive and satisfied members” at PWIs (Turner, Myers, & Creswell, 1999, p. 28). Research Interests of Faculty of Color in Academe Researchers tend to focus on topics that are relevant to their personal experiences or concerns, and “often the research activities of faculty of color are integrated with teaching and service” (Shealey, Watson, & Qian, 2011, p. 133). Research contributions of many African American women emerge in the social sciences, including education (McCray, 2011), and their scholarship tends to focus on advocacy, equity, and social justice issues, providing voice to historically vulnerable groups (Shealey, Watson, & Qian, 2011). Joe (2008) speaks eloquently about the strong desire of many researchers to “give” back to their communities or communities in need: Many young investigators, particularly scholars of color, seek to pursue scholarship and careers in the academy with the ultimate goal of giving something back to their own communities, especially in the form of knowledge and sound practice to address the chronic social inequalities, health and mental disparities, oppression, and discrimination which communities of color continue to face, despite decades of targeted public policy and intervention strategies. (p. 3)

Much of the literature on the research interests of faculty members of color has been marked by deep ambivalence. Engaging in research that benefits marginalized communities is often considered risky and is devalued by dominant-culture universities (Baez, 2011; Stanley, 2006; Turner, 2002) primarily because this kind of scholarship does not reflect the “dominant mainstream disciplinary framework” (Molina, 2008, p. 14). Hence, the challenge for African American women scholars, as well as for other faculty personnel of color, is to design a research plan endorsed by the academy while pursuing an agenda reflective of their personal preferences and ambitions (Fenelon, 2003; Peters, 2011). A specific area of debate in the literature regarding tenure and promotion concerns the research interests of some faculty members of color and the question of whether these interests are rewarded in tenure

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and promotion processes (Stanley, 2006). In fact, the literature warns that conducting research on topics focusing on marginalized populations is not always valued in PWIs, and such research is often considered insubstantial, unscientific, and at odds with mainstream scholarship (Baez, 2011; Molina, 2008; Stanley, 2006): “This clearly puts faculty of color at a disadvantage in the tenure and promotion process, wherein the most value is often placed on mainstream research” (Stanley, 2006, p. 705). When faculty members of color engage in research centering on lines of inquiry outside of conventional research, it is important that they understand that they may be evaluated by colleagues who use traditional guidelines (Baez, 2011). According to Gloria Ladson-Billings (as cited in Figuerua & Sanchez, 2008) these academics may experiences questionable success because “the mechanisms for scholarly recognition, promotion, tenure and publication are controlled primarily by the dominant ideology” (p. 150). Method The exploration of personal experience has a long history in qualitative research. Variously called auto-ethnographic, life story, or life notes methods, researchers have mined their own experience, through the construction of stories or narratives, for clues to a broader understanding of sociocultural phenomena (Chase, 2008; Ellis & Bochner, 2000, Merriam, 2009). As the researcher and participant in this study, I used auto-ethnography because at its basis is the assumption that first-person accounts of experience— particularly that of groups underrepresented in social science data—can generate new understandings of the social world (Ellis & Bochner, 2000; Reed-Danahay, 1997). Studying Self Auto-ethnography uses self as the participant (Ellis & Bochner, 2000), and Phinney (1996) contends that it is impossible to fully understand a person without understanding his or her culture, racial/ethnic identity, gender identity, and other sociocultural factors. I am the participant, and this section of the chapter provides a brief overview of my sociocultural background. I am an African American woman who grew up in a two-parent family with three siblings. My parents emphasized the importance of academic achievement, and my siblings and I excelled in academic and social areas. My family lived in Chicago, Illinois—a city that is distinguished by its rich multicultural population. According to the 2010 Census, Chicago has some

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2,900,000 inhabitants. Recognized for its excellent museums, theaters, and sports arenas, the city’s cultural offerings are unlimited, and while living there, my family and I participated in many of them. With regard to racial/ethnic demographics, this metropolis is comprised of 36.7% African American/Blacks, 26.02% Hispanic/Latinos, 4.35% Asians, 0.06% Native Hawaiians and other Pacific Islanders, and 41.97% Whites. I now live and work in a much smaller city. Tulsa, Oklahoma’s population is approximately 603,403 (U.S. Census, 2010), and, for the past several years, it has been ranked as one of the most livable cities in the United States (O’Malley-Greenburg, 2009). Known as a mecca for arts in Oklahoma, Tulsa’s art deco masterpieces are found in many buildings located downtown. The racial/ethnic demographics of this city include 15.4% American/Blacks, 7.1% Hispanics, 1.9% American Indians/Alaska Natives, 1.9% Asian/Pacific Islanders, and 70.2% Whites. As an associate professor in the Department of Human Relations at the University of Oklahoma, I teach graduate-level courses with an organizational-studies emphasis. The Department of Human Relations, where I also serve as an associate chair, provides a meaningful context for me to exercise academic leadership and simultaneously link my efforts in teaching, research, and university service with other faculty members who are engaged in the critical work of providing students, many of whom are practitioners, with the knowledge, skills, and opportunities to empower change in families, communities, and organizations. My main research area is in the field of diversity and inclusion, focusing on race, ethnicity, gender, ability, and age/generation in the contexts of leadership and marginalized individuals and communities. I also conduct research in the area of volunteerism in communities of color. Here, I follow volunteers’ sense of altruism and their patterns of volunteering. Finally, my current research on women of color in higher-education administration examines leadership paradigms and ways in which leadership theories serve as guiding frameworks for identifying and selecting individuals to occupy leadership positions. Data Collection and Analysis The methods of data collection were document reviews, self-observation, and reflective writings, which were also useful in recalling and organizing memories of personal experiences. I reviewed public and personal records, such as letters, scrapbooks, newspaper accounts, annual faculty evaluations, newsletter columns, and published and unpublished articles. Personal documents are important and refer to first-person narratives that describe individual behavior experiences and beliefs (Bogdan & Biklen, 1992).

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Also, public documents are valuable because they can function as “stimulus for paths of inquiry that can be pursued only through direct observation and interviewing” (Patton, 2002, p. 294). Documents are like “observations in that documents give us a snapshot into what the author thinks is important” (Merriam, 2009, p. 142). I used self-observation in the form of self-reflection, writing my notes on a self-developed recording form. Rodriguez and Ryave (2002) contend that self-observation as a data-collection strategy is useful because it gives access to “covert, elusive, and/or personal experiences like cognitive processes, emotions, motives, concealed actions, omitted actions, and socially restricted activities” (p. 3). Data were analyzed using “inductive and narrative processes, which called for an ordering of the data set by themes to make meaning of personal experience and contextualized knowledge” (Merriam, 2009, p. 35). Narrative analysis is a salient frame by which individuals categorize and make sense of their experiences (Clandinin & Connely, 2000). Thus, meaning is created, understood, and conveyed in story form. The study is auto-ethnographic in that it centers on the author’s sociocultural experiences to understand how they informed researcher interests in the academy. Data sources reflect dates between 1999 and 2011. Findings Findings were organized into three defining sociocultural experiences and are presented in first-person narrative. Sociocultural Experience: The Significance of Family as Social Agent on Volunteering and Community Building Coming from a family of avid volunteers, I remember my parents’ belief that the reason for living is (in large part) to help others. This is what they taught us, their children, every day. My family quietly educated me through constant altruistic behavior. During my youth, I observed my parents demonstrating continual selfless acts of kindness. They provided assistance to neighbors, friends, families, and strangers and often involved my siblings and me in helping others. At age six, for instance, I recall accompanying my parents and siblings to visit an ill elderly woman whom we did not know personally. My father shelved the groceries purchased for the woman, while my younger sister and I helped our mother dress and groom the woman. My sister and I then took turns reading sections of the newspaper to the feeble listener. This was one of my early experiences of proactively helping others, and the memory is still vivid. Although I didn’t

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realize this was volunteer service at the time, I remember feeling a sense of contentment and achievement in meeting the needs of another with no thought of compensation or recognition of my efforts. In terms of my sociocultural reality, this is the quintessential definition of volunteering. Although I have numerous memories of volunteering with my parents in the community, one in particular comes to mind as I reflected through pictures and memorabilia. As a youngster, I remember returning home from the library with my mother on a humid summer afternoon. We took the scenic route so that I could feed the ducks at the neighborhood park, but when we approached a stop sign near the entrance to the park and looked for oncoming cars, we instead saw smoke coming from a nearby house. I could hear the fire truck’s siren in the distance, and my mother and I hurried toward the thickening crowd of people. Upon our arrival, I could hear a woman’s voice pleading for the firemen to save her home. Tightly holding my mother’s hand, I followed her as she traced the piercing cries of the woman. Like the burning, shriveling shingles on the roof of the house, the crying woman had shrunk to the ground, and her three children were huddled near her. My mother immediately plunged to her knees, embraced the women and her children, and began to pray out loud. I found myself in the midst of the cluster of bodies also. Our mere presence seemed to help calm the woman, and my mother reached in her purse and placed money in the woman’s hand. After asking her a few questions about whether she had somewhere to go that night, my mother and I headed home, bypassing the feeding of the ducks. Later that evening, my father drove my mother, my brother and sister, and me to visit the now homeless family, who were temporarily living with a neighbor. Before our arrival, we stopped by the store to purchase groceries for them; additionally, my siblings and I took toys and games from our toy shelves to give to the children, along with clothes of ours that my parents had selected from our closets. As a result of our acts of kindness, the family thanked us profusely. What is especially striking about this memory is that we reached out to total strangers. My parents’ empathy, generosity, and swift action helped to make a meaningful difference in the lives of strangers, hence those in need. I never will forget receiving a large card from the family with a picture of them standing in front of their new home and in a new community. I attribute my quest for community volunteerism and a commitment of service to help others to ongoing occurrences like this led by my parents.

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Early Career as an Audiologist: Volunteerism and Advocacy for Marginalized Groups My combined early career position and sociocultural experience of working with disenfranchised people was a defining moment—an event that helped to motivate me to pursue my doctorate and influenced my entry to the academy. After earning a master’s of science degree in Audiology and Speech Language Pathology, I developed a career in the field, working with pediatric and geriatric populations as an audiologist. Meaningful interaction with individuals of various ages in the hard-of-hearing and deaf community “amplified” my appreciation for human diversity and increased my interest in issues related to social justice, advocacy, and equity. This profession exposed me to the realities of ways that social identities and power differences affect access to resources and opportunities. One particular incident stands out in my memory. I attended a theater performance with a group of deaf students. Although the production advertised a signed interpreted performance for deaf individuals and the theater manager had been given prior notice of our attendance, we learned upon arriving that the certified interpreter had cancelled his signing service contract due to illness. The manager apologized for this misfortune and added that he hoped we would enjoy the performance nonetheless. Surprised by the lack of accommodation, I asked the manager to call an alternate certified interpreter. The manager expressed concern about requesting a sign interpreter on the evening of the event. In addition to reminding him that the show was advertised as a sign interpreted performance, I mentioned the American Disabilities Act (ADA), which is a law that prohibits discrimination against people with disabilities, including deaf individuals. Although the curtain opened to the first act 10 minutes after the advertised start time, the students and I assigned the performance a rating of very good. We gave a similar favorable rating to the sign interpreter’s performance as well. The deaf and hard-of-hearing individuals with whom I worked often shared incidents of unfairness with me and discussed their feelings of having no one to plead their case. Committed to becoming a better advocate for this group of people in addition to other vulnerable populations in the community, I immersed myself in Tulsa’s volunteer infrastructure, serving on the boards of multiple nonprofit organizations simultaneously. Following my parents’ examples of volunteering, community building, and advocacy, I began to volunteer extensively with a woman’s organization responsible for establishing and staffing many of the nonprofit organizations in Tulsa (i.e., Ronald McDonald House, Domestic Violence Intervention Shelter, Child Abuse Network). This particular organization provided meaningful

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volunteer opportunities for individuals and offered high-quality seminar sessions on skills essential for effective volunteering and board governance. Cognizant of my own burgeoning interest in nonprofit board governance, volunteer management, and strategic planning and the ways in which these processes influence volunteering and philanthropy, I moved into a leadership capacity with this nonprofit organization. Eventually, I became the first and only African American to date to be elected as president of this internationally recognized 90-year-old organization. Today I continue to derive tremendous personal rewards by reaching out to marginalized groups in the Tulsa community and beyond. The community has been generous in recognizing my efforts, in that I was honored with the Mayor’s Commission on the Status of Women Award for Public Service. From Working Professional to Graduate School: The Integration of Volunteerism and Advocacy of the Underserved into Scholarship Agenda Working with the deaf community and other vulnerable populations increased my realization that effective advocacy and empowerment are critical to the advancement and implementation of social justice, and I returned to graduate school to obtain a PhD in Education, Administration, and Research with a focus on leadership. Equipped with first-hand knowledge about the challenges and needs of marginalized groups of people, I intently focused on my doctoral coursework. The integrated curriculum provided compelling theoretical perspectives on the economic, educational, and social advantages and disadvantages of groups of people in society, and it also helped to establish my current research interests, which are related to the demographic shifts in the United States and dimensions of diversity, including gender, race/ethnicity, ability, and age/generation in the contexts of leadership and marginalized groups. Enrolled in my doctoral program full time, I continued to volunteer on a few nonprofit boards, advocate on behalf of marginalized individuals and groups in the community when asked, and provide seminars and workshops on diversity and inclusion for organizations. The aim in remaining connected to my community work with underserved groups centered on purposeful integration of professional experience with scientific knowledge. In reviewing files from graduate school, I came across a letter from a university in Minnesota congratulating me as the recipient of a Minority Teaching Fellowship. The accompanying announcement indicated that I was scheduled to teach a Cultural Diversity and Education course, and the leaflet described me as “an emerging scholar in cultural diversity in higher education.” Interestingly, the Special Education and Communication

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Disorders Departments sponsored the joint undergraduate/graduate course. In retrospect, I remembered reading the notice and marveling in the knowledge that my professional experiences with underachieving children in the area of reading and my early career as an audiologist working with individuals experiencing communication difficulties were implicit in the combination of the two academic programs (Special Education and Communication Disorders). In addition to winning a teaching fellowship, I was hired part time by a Fortune 500 company as a consultant to provide diversity and inclusion seminars for upper management. I was fortunate in that my graduate professors were supportive of my efforts to link my sociocultural experiences external to the classroom with my academic program. They also helped me explore ways to integrate my professional and academic experiences. For example, one of my assignments required that I juxtapose curriculums for teaching diversity in the areas of education and management. At the time of graduation, having secured my PhD, my one consulting project with a Fortune 500 company had flourished into my own consulting firm, where I specialized in the areas of diversity and human relations. Because I was traveling both domestically and internationally to provide consultations and seminars for both nonprofit and for-profit organizations, several years passed before I accepted a part-time faculty position in the Master of Human Relations program while attending to the affairs of my company. Presently, I am a full-time resident faculty member and associate chairperson in the Department of Human Relations and have significantly limited my consulting work to a select group of clients. Discussion of Findings The stories I related in the findings within the context of volunteering and community building with my family draw attention to my parents who were my primary socialization agents (Vygotsky, 1978) and, in the first example, conducted my initial exposure to the concept and practice of volunteering. The behaviors involved in this volunteer activity included attention to the individual’s nutrition as demonstrated by the purchasing and storing of food, physical care as shown by the brushing of hair, and intellectual stimulation as displayed through the reading of the newspaper. My parents’ core values, beliefs, and behaviors are reflected in this narrative. In their explanation of the function of sharing values Peplau et al. (1999) emphasized that the purpose of shared values is to impart a sense of self, identify, and belonging among its members. In the second example, involving the devastating fire, parents taught their children the value of sharing with others by helping them select items from their own

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belongings to give to others in need. For my own family, volunteering offered my parents an invaluable opportunity, not only to talk about their values but to demonstrate them by sharing with their daughters and sons constructive and practical ways to address real-life challenges facing other families in our community. Empirical research documents sociocultural hardships for many African American and underserved residents in the United States (U.S. Census Bureau, 2011). My parents used the process of community building and volunteering to emphasize the importance of honoring our individual and collective responsibility never to turn our backs to those in need of help. In my early career as an audiologist, a community of deaf individuals played a salient role in my sociocultural experiences. By working with this group and eventually advocating for them, I became more aware of the impact of social identity on persons with little or no hearing. Described as individuals with disabilities, they are often marginalized and struggled to attain the resources and opportunities many in the hearing community take for granted. Through this particular socialization experience, my understanding of diversity in terms of prejudicial attitudes and discriminatory behavior enlarged to include bias related to disability. African American women faculty often experience isolation and lack of institutional support at PWIs thus, obstructing their total participation within the academy (Lloyd-Jones, 2011b). In addition to sharing experiences around social exclusion, isolation, and lack of support, my identification with this group of individuals can also be attributed to early socialization experiences (Perry & Perry, 2009) of helping, advocacy, and volunteering. Learning about the needs and experiences of deaf people motivated me to acquire my doctorate in an area that would prepare me to advocate effectively for marginalized, underserved, and vulnerable communities. As the findings suggest, even after receiving my doctorate, I did not follow the traditional career path for a person who had earned a doctorate with a higher education focus. The traditional journey for a doctoral student is to pursue a professorship or acquire a position as a higher education administrator. My graduate career prepared me for the pursuit of these career trajectories; however, rather than engaging in pedagogy on the subject of diversity, social justice, and equity at a university, I addressed these important subjects in corporate America. When considering a part-time faculty position, my interest was in the social sciences, similar to most African American women in the professoriate (Shealey, Watson, & Qian, 2011). After becoming a full-time faculty member, I focused my research on issues of diversity, including race/ethnicity, gender, and disability in the context of marginalized individuals and groups of people. According to the data, African American women often focus their research on underserved communities (Baez, 2011). Similar

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to other faculty of color who wish to do research in communities in which they would like to help, many of my sociocultural experiences are linked to marginalized communities and have informed my research interests in the academy. Conclusions and Implications Through a discussion of my own background and experiences, I used sociocultural theory to understand how socializing agents (including family, career, and educational opportunities) have informed my own constructions of scholarship as an African American female faculty member at a PWI. Calling attention to the significant barriers that Black women academics confront at PWIs, including isolation, loneliness, and lack of trust, I argue for a more inclusive understanding of African American women and other women of color in both research literature and higher education. This chapter has implications for current practice in higher education. Toward the development of an inclusive, constructive, and productive climate for everyone, higher education institutions can address the difficulties many African American scholars have had historically because of the potential risks and adverse considerations associated with their engagement in research with vulnerable and marginalized populations. Second, in a broader analysis, I explore Black faculty members’ sociocultural connections to underserved communities of color and their role as socialjustice advocates for change. Faculty researchers who provide research ideas for the support of individuals and communities of color warrant appropriate resources from colleges and universities. Third, Black faculty members who are aware of mainstream perspectives about such research may better focus on marginalized populations because they operate from a place of knowledge. Finally, my exploration of these subjects reveals that the type of research I describe can have adverse consequences in terms of promotion and tenure in academic careers. Of particular note is the courage of faculty members who pursue these lines of research inquiry despite the threat of adverse outcomes. Hence, there is currently a vital need for new attention to academics whose epistemological and ontological perspectives differ from mainstream scholarship. Such reconsideration has promise for a more inclusive academic community, which, accordingly, would foster an environment where faculty of color could perform significant research and, thus, follow their personal and professional aspirations.

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About the Authors Cosette Grant is an assistant professor in the Educational Leadership Department at University of Cincinnati and a member of the graduate faculty. She is the director of the Center for the Study of Leadership in Urban Schools and editor of the International Journal of Educational Leadership (IJUEL). Her research focuses on culturally relevant mentoring strategies that might improve students’ academic and career success. Her work also includes emergent work on effective leadership for educational equity in P-12 schools and the inclusion of social justice in leadership development and preparation of educational leaders. Beverly Irby, EdD, is currently program chair for K-12 Educational Administration and Associate Department Head for Educational Administration and Human Resource Development, TAMU. She is also the director of the Educational Leadership Research Center. She has a bachelor of science in education degree with a double minor in math and science and master’s and doctoral degrees are from The University of Mississippi. Her primary research interests center on issues of social responsibility, including women’s leadership issues, bilingual and ESL education administrative structures, curriculum, instructional strategies. She is the author of more than 100 refereed articles, chapters, books, and curricular materials for Spanish-speaking children. Her work is published in prestigious research and instructional journals. and as science components of SRA McGraw-Hill’s early childhood curriculum. She is the recipient of the AERA and RWE Willystine Goodsell Award, the Texas Council of Women School Executives



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Margaret Montgomery Leadership Award, the Diana Marion-Garcia Houston Area Bilingual Advocacy Award, the National Association of Bilingual Education and the AERA Educational Researcher Review of the Year, and the TAMU Administrator Women’s Progress Award 2014. She is the co-developer of a 21st century leadership theory, the synergistic leadership theory, one of the only leadership theories that purposefully included women in the development and validation of the theory. She has garnered in funding for grants and contracts in access of $20,000,000 awarded by the U.S. Department of Education, OSERS, TRIO, IES via TAMU Research Foundation, and NSF. She has held the title of the Texas State University System Regents’ Distinguished Professor during her tenure with the System. Gaëtane Jean-Marie is professor of educational leadership and chair of Leadership, Foundations & Human Resource Education at the University of Louisville. For the past seven years, she held a joint appointment in African and African American Studies while an associate professor of educational leadership at the University of Oklahoma. Her research focuses on leadership development and preparation, effective leadership for educational equity in K–12 schools, women and leadership in K–12 and higher education context, and urban school reform. To date, she has over 60 publications which include books, book chapters, and academic articles in numerous peer-reviewed journals. She is the co-editor of Women of Color in Higher Education: Turbulent Past, Promising Future (2011, Emerald Publishing) and Women of Color in Higher Education: Contemporary Perspectives and New Directions (2011, Emerald Publishing). Also, she is the editor of the Journal of School Leadership, book review editor of the Journal of Educational Administration, past chair/president of the Leadership for Social Justice AERA/SIG, and co-founder of Advancing Women of Color in the Academy (AWOCA). Brenda Lloyd-Jones is associate chair of the Department of Human Relations in the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of Oklahoma, Tulsa. As an associate professor, she has taught human relations in Naples, Italy, Okinawa, Japan, Rota, Spain and London England. Her research addresses dimensions of diversity, including gender, race/ethnicity, and generational differences within the contexts of leadership in organizations. Recent publications include “Gender in the Workforce” with Lisa Bass and Gaetane Jean-Marie and “Intergenerational Tension in the Workforce” with Jody Worley in M. Byrd and C.. Scott (Eds.), Diversity in the Workforce: Current issues and Emerging Trends (2014, Routledge). She is co-editor of a two-volume book with Gaetane Jean-Marie entitled: Women of Color in Higher Education: Turbulent Past, Promising Future and Women of Color in Higher Education: Changing Directions and New Perspectives (2011, Emerald).

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She has also published in journals including Advances in Developing Human Resources (2009). Dr. Lloyd-Jones’ trajectory of scholarship has been attentive to community engagement and social change and justice, and her current research synthesizes her knowledge and experience as a scholar and community builder, focusing on the intersection of race/ethnicity and gender in the context of historically marginalized individuals in underresourced communities. She has won a number of awards including the 2011 University of Oklahoma-Tulsa President leadership Award for Community Engagement and the 2013 Tulsa Shock WNBA Women of Inspiration Award. Hollie Mackey is an assistant professor of education at the University of Oklahoma. She is an enrolled member of the Northern Cheyenne Nation in southeastern Montana. Her research includes educational leadership, school discipline reform, education law and ethics, multicultural education, and equity. Publications include “Transformational Partnerships: Translating Research into Practice Through Culturally Competent Evaluation Practices in American Indian Communities” in the International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education; “Identity and Research: Exploring Themes of Scholarship of an American Indian Scholar in the Academy,” in G. Jean-Marie & B. Lloyd-Jones (Eds.), Women of Color in Higher Education: Turbulent Past, Promising Future (Vol. 9), Diversity in Higher Education Series; “Youth Detention Facilities and Restorative Justice: Lessons for Public Education,” in A. Normore & B. Fitch (Eds.), Leadership in Education, Corrections and Law Enforcement: A Commitment to Ethics, Equity, and Excellence (Vol. 12), Advances in Educational Administration Series; “Zero-Tolerance Policies and Administrative Decision-Making: The Case for Restorative Justice-Based School Discipline Reform,” in A. Normore (Ed.), Global Perspectives on Educational Leadership Reform: The Development and Preparation of Leaders of Learning and Learners of Leadership (Vol. 11), Advances in Educational Administration; and “Privacy vs. Security,” in J. P. Shapiro &d J. A. Stefkovich (Eds.), Ethical Leadership and Decision-Making in Education: Applying Theoretical Perspectives to Complex Dilemmas (3rd ed.). She has 10 years of experience teaching, in both public schools and higher education, as well as working closely with school administrators and policymakers in both the United States and abroad as a consultant for systemic educational improvement and reform. Elizabeth Murakami is an associate professor in the Department of Educational Leadership and Policy Studies at University of Texas at San Antonio. Dr. Murakami is a South American native who received her MA in Curriculum and Teaching and her PhD in Educational Administration with specialization in International Development from Michigan State

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University. She is a researcher focused on successful leadership and social justice issues for Latina populations, including urban and international issues in educational leadership. Dr. Murakami’s single and collaborative research in P-20 urban and international schools has been published in journals including the Journal of School Leadership, Educational Management Administration and Leadership, and Journal of School Administration. Her latest co-edited book focuses on a social justice agenda for P-20 professionals and is titled Educational Leaders Encouraging the Intellectual and Professional Capacity of Others: A Social Justice Agenda. Anne-Marie Nuñez is an associate professor in the higher education program of the Educational Leadership and Policy Studies Department at the University of Texas at San Antonio (UTSA). Her research addresses how individual, organizational, and structural factors influence equitable opportunities for college access and success. Most recently, her research has focused on Latino, first-generation, and migrant students’ experiences in their transitions to different types of higher education institutions, including Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs). Dr. Nunez received the UTSA Research Achievement Award in 2009 and the Association for the Study of Higher Education (ASHE) Garcia Exemplary Scholarship Award in 2011. She has also conducted research about the experiences of Latina faculty in HSIs. Her scholarship has been published in various outlets, including American Educational Research Journal, Harvard Educational Review, Review of Higher Education, Journal of College Student Development, Journal of Hispanics in Higher Education, Journal of Latinos and Education, and Academe. Elsa Ruiz is an assistant professor of Curriculum and Instruction in the College of Education and Human Development with emphases in Middle and Secondary Mathematics Education at the University of Texas at San Antonio. Her research focuses on the motivation of Latina/o students in secondary mathematics courses, secondary teachers’ notions of motivational strategies, and the impact of teachers’ content and pedagogy knowledge on student motivation and mathematical achievement in the science, technology, engineering, and math fields. Lorri J. Santamaría is an assistant dean postgraduate in the Faculty of Education at the University of Auckland, New Zealand, where she was appointed as senior faculty to the school of Learning Development and Professional Practice in June 2012. Prior to this appointment, Dr. Santamaría was a professor of Multicultural Multilingual Education and director for the Joint Doctoral Program in Educational Leadership with the University of California, San Diego for California State University San Marcos. Her research interests include the impact of social justice

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and educational equity on leadership for a diverse society, including the roles that cultural, linguistic, and gender diversity play in educational leadership for a global society. Her most recent publications are Applied Critical Leadership in Education: Choosing Change (2012, with A. P. Santamaría, Routledge) and “Critical Change for the Greater Good: Multicultural Dimensions of Educational Leadership toward Social Justice and Educational Equity” (2013; Education Administration Quarterly-EAQ, doi:10.1177/0013161X13505287. Natalie A. Tran associate professor in the Department of Educational Leadership at California State University, Fullerton. Her research focuses on evaluating the effectiveness of curriculum and services related to science, technology, engineering, and mathematics education and examining factors that affect students’ learning experiences in both classroom and out-of-school settings. These areas align with her methodological research interests that include hierarchical linear modeling, experimental design, quasi-experimental design, and survey studies. Her work has been published in Journal of Engineering Education, International Journal of Engineering Education, International Journal of Science Education, Journal of PreCollege Engineering Education Research, and Computers in Human Behavior.