By: Jennifer Boateng & Zahraa Chorghay (@fieryzarzar)
The deaths of George Floyd and others have brought awareness to the oppressive and unjust world that Black people live in. Floyd’s death has acted as a catalyst, unveiling systemic racism endemic in many Western institutions and demanding change as part of the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement. Specifically in academia, the hashtag #BlackInTheIvory was used to divulge the microaggressions and racism that Black academics continually endure. Of course, racism is just one of the several ways in which marginalised groups are included / excluded from the Ivory Towers of race, culture, class, and ableist privilege disguised under the myth of meritocracy that is academia. For example, 2017 gave rise to the Me Too movement that has shed light on how women experience pushback in various industries and institutions, from overt and violent acts like rape and harassment, to more insidious ones, such as being deemed incompetent for employment and career advancement on the basis of their gender identity. Similarly, the BLM movement discusses how BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) face discrimination ranging from violence to microaggressions, all pointing to systemic inequalities. In academia, this can even manifest itself as pressure to overwork and be undercompensated as a result of expectations from one’s employer (for example, arising from model minority stereotypes) or even from oneself (to not succumb to negative stereotypes associated with one’s group), creating stress and impairing performance of marginalised people in ways that their counterparts rarely even consider.
“Racism is just one of the several ways in which marginalised groups are included / excluded from the Ivory Towers of race, culture, class, and ableist privilege disguised under the myth of meritocracy that is academia.”
The prevalence of social media continues to reveal the abuse of power in academia and other fields, and has led to reflections about institutional inequalities against marginalised people. When we use the term “marginalised” in this piece, we are referring to people who have historically not been well-represented in academia due to their race, gender, sexual orientation, or class. These include students who are BIPOC, do not identify as a heterosexual cis-male (women, LGBTQ), have chronic illness or disability (visible or invisible), come from low socioeconomic conditions, or even some other barriers that are recognised to limit access to opportunities, such as being from rural areas or being a first-generation student. Many BIPOC fit more than one of these descriptors, which perhaps also explains our passion for advocating for intersectional approaches to addressing societal issues.
Being Black and Brown graduate students, the revelations under #BlackInTheIvory and related BLM conversations were not news for us. But for many White academics, these stories came as a surprise. (Ditto for being female students, and observing the effects of #MeToo.) The privilege afforded by Whiteness prevents one from seeing that the composition of most academic institutions reflect systemic racism. For us, it was among the first things we noticed when we stepped onto the McGill campus. During graduate school orientation, JB noticed she was one of two Black students starting in the Integrated Program in Neuroscience (IPN). ZC noticed how almost every building on campus was named after white men, with the university itself being named after a slave owner known to make his fortune from Transatlantic slave labour. BIPOC are accustomed to not being represented on university campuses, which is accompanied by feelings of not-belonging and of fraud. BIPOC are accustomed to being in spaces that were not built for “the likes of us”, walking in the shadows of men who were comfortable thinking of us as less than human. These feelings of alienness and exclusion are not just internal and historical – they are made tangible by the microaggressions that we experience in academic institutions. A common theme of #BlackInTheIvory was the disbelief in identities of Black academics. Students and faculty alike reveal situations where they were either mistaken for custodial staff, or accosted by security. The imposter syndrome experienced by Black academics is exacerbated by the false notion that the presence of BIPOC in academia is due to affirmative action policies. Being a BIPOC person on campus means having to continually prove your academic credibility.
The paucity of Black students in academia is only outmatched by the scarcity of Black faculty. The 2018 Diversity and Equity report from the Canadian Association of University Teachers, which draws its data from the 2016 Statistics Canada Census, reported that 21% of university professors are from minority groups, of which 2% are Black and 1.4% are Indigenous. When it comes to gender, although women make up 44% of faculty, they are seriously underrepresented at the full professor level (20.3%) and in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math) fields (20-25%). How do the numbers stack up specifically for our program? Roughly in line with national trends, when ZC sifted through the 254 professors listed under the IPN faculty directory, she counted 77 women (30%), 46 POC (18%) with only 1 black faculty member, and 17 women of colour (6%).* In comparison to the general population as reported in the same 2016 Statistics Canada Census, 22.3% identify as visible minorities, including 3.5% as Black and 4.9% as Indigenous, 50.7% as women, and 11.5% as women of colour. Therefore, marginalised groups are underrepresented at the faculty level, particularly as Full Professors in STEM fields, with some groups being severely underrepresented at almost half of their proportion in the general population.
The absence of BIPOC faculty on campus creates a detrimental cycle, in which BIPOC students are disinclined to stay in academia because they don’t see themselves reflected at these institutions. A diverse faculty is integral to creating institutions where BIPOC feel welcome. In creating a diverse faculty, academic institutions must refrain from hiring BIPOC professors only for Area studies. In undergrad, JB had the privilege of being taught by Black professors, but she was granted this opportunity only because she was part of the African Studies program. Black academics exist in STEM, albeit in small numbers. Hiring Black faculty only for Area studies not only pigeonholes Black academics, but it also perpetuates racist ideals. Academic institutions must strive to abolish the implicit bias inherent in their hiring practices and aim to diversify faculty in ways that do not perpetuate stereotypes. Academia is where new ideas are created and disseminated. Therefore, the dismantling of structural racism requires that BIPOC be included in the academy in meaningful ways.
“Representation is still only the first step to eradicating racism in academia. Academic institutions must endeavor to create support systems for BIPOC students and faculty.”
Representation can be achieved through recruitment policies for staff and faculty, grounded transparency and diversity, outreach initiatives that attract diverse youth to STEM, and through awards & funding that take into account the systemic inequities preventing marginalised students from having equal access to opportunities which build the kind of resumes that win over award committees. However, representation is still only the first step to eradicating racism in academia. Academic institutions must endeavor to create support systems for BIPOC students and faculty. This includes policies, evaluations, and consequences in place to ensure a non-toxic work environment for all students, including those with marginalised identities. It also includes safe spaces where students can share and commiserate over their experiences. JB remembers feeling seen when she attended a session focused on race in STEM. The session was a representation of real allyship because Dr. Munter, a German scientist, created a space that she knew was desperately needed by BIPOC graduate students. It was a space where BIPOC students in STEM could discuss – unabashedly, without fear of penalization – their experiences with racism in academia.
If diversity and inclusion are truly the goals, then there exists decades of research into institutional racism and inequality which we can adopt. This scholarship ranges from the abstract to the practical, including studies with longer-term assessments of what does and doesn’t work for retaining diversity and fostering inclusivity. In fact, following the efforts of marginalised people and their allies, McGill now has in place a Policy Against Sexual Violence, a Report from the Provost’s Task Force on Indigenous Studies and Education, and has just recently released its Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion Strategic Plan (2020-2025). These recommendations are merely a start and demonstrate that diversity and inclusivity cannot be achieved with small, short-term fixes. Instead, this will require a nuanced understanding of the societal forces enabling marginalisation of certain groups, coupled with committed and sustained effort.
Importantly, leaving it up to the same marginalised populations to do the hard work (i.e. free labour) of raising awareness, of advocacy, of education, and of reform is in itself part of the problem. As marginalised people engage in these time-consuming, energy-demanding tasks, they risk fatigue, burnout, and opportunity costs that their privileged counterparts do not. Privilege in action is not having to start these conversations about equity, not educating oneself, letting things remain as they are (because they personally don’t seem that bad to you) and even when you start to see the issue, convincing yourself that “you have little power to change anything, so why not just accept the status quo?”. In truth, we have many solutions at our disposal, should we choose to make academia more diverse and inclusive. However, knowing that these solutions require time, energy, and resources – that by aiming to dismantle power structures, we will inherently create discomfort and inconvenience for the privileged – the question is not how but if academia truly wishes to actually commit to equity, diversity and inclusion.
“Real allyship is about creating academic institutions where all people are welcome to participate in the creation of new knowledge and ideas, contributing fresh perspectives and energy.”
As white academics reflect on how they can better support their Black colleagues, they must educate themselves on what it means to be an ally; if academia wishes to be more inclusive of those it has historically left out of its Ivory Towers, it must prioritise the well-being of the marginalised. Allyship is not simply a denouncement of racial injustice on social media or in press releases and statements to students. Real allyship is recognising your privilege and implicit biases, and unlearning the negative stereotypes you’ve internalized about POC, without being defensive or dismissive. Real allyship is using your privilege to support policies that promote equity and inclusion on university campuses, even if they seem like a hassle to you. Lastly, real allyship is about creating academic institutions where all people are welcome to participate in the creation of new knowledge and ideas, contributing fresh perspectives and energy – that you may have never even imagined – in what would be an otherwise homogeneous world.
* Disclaimer for IPN faculty counts by ZC: Since there were no official statistics or self-reported identifiers for IPN faculty, I used the rather crude method of relying on my error-prone abilities to pick up cues about gender and race. This will vary from observer to observer depending on your classifiers, so please bequeath me a reasonable margin of error!
Acknowledgements: We wish to thank Sienna Drake for discussions that contributed to the ideas presented in this work.