Learn from public syllabi.

As an educator who teaches courses on histories of race in the United States, I am all too aware of the deep need to address how current events impact the things we talk about in the classroom. A week before the quarter began this year, for instance, I emailed my students in order to address the January 6 insurrection. I touched on how it would likely impact the way in which we engaged with our course, as well as why learning about histories of racial formation and activism were so critical to moving forward. As writer and professor Rebecca Schuman puts it, “college, with its structured reading environment and safe discussion spaces, can give an entire generation the tools not just to begin to understand our violent, incomprehensible world—but to make it a little bit less violent, and a lot more comprehensible” (Slate). I see my courses as giving students those tools to take with them as they move beyond the university.

Happy Sunday! Today is Ida's third publication of a three-part series on how to diversify our education. I really appreciate this one; this newsletter has acted as my own public syllabi, in a way. I get to dive deep into diverse topics and constantly get introduced to new sources and inspiring people. But the sources that mean most are the *actual* syllabi that educators share online. I'd love to hear where else you're learning from and what this email inspires.

This newsletter is a free resource and that's made possible by our paying subscribers. Consider giving $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website, PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also support us by joining our curated digital community. Thank you to all those that support!

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Explore curriculum guides & public syllabi curated by academics, such as the #StandingRockSyllabus, #ImmigrationSyllabus and #IslamophobiaIsRacism syllabus, among many others.
Read or view at least one of the syllabus items that intrigue you.
Create a regular reading group with friends or colleagues to go through some of the syllabus items and have collective discussions about the texts.

GET EDUCATED

By Ida Yalzadeh (she/her)

Unfortunately, most do not have access to these kinds of spaces that allow us to collectively process and work through the historical underpinnings of what’s going on right now. Most don’t know where to turn in order to figure out, “What got us to where we are today?”

In previous issues, I’ve written about the importance of new media & zine culture as two different yet converging mediums that allow for information and knowledge to be more easily distributed among those advocating for structural change. Today, I wanted to talk about online & crowd-sourced syllabi as a source that puts a new spin on the traditional college course. By using current events as framing sites for deep dives into histories of the United States, scholars, researchers and activists are curating online syllabi to distribute foundational texts and accessible content that help others process what’s going on and how we got to these moments.

The first real instance of an online syllabus going viral was in 2014, with the instigation and organization of the #FergusonSyllabus on Twitter by Marcia Chatelain, an African American Studies and history professor at Georgetown University. The Ferguson unrest was prompted in the wake of the shooting of Michael Brown, and had many, including Chatelain, wondering what they could do. She began the hashtag as a way of crowd-sourcing texts that could speak to the reasons for the unrest and its historical context (The Atlantic). While Chatelain curated a list of books, essays, images and videos that lives on The Atlantic, searching the twitter hashtag yields thousands of results.

Since then, many other historians and scholars of the United States have collectively developed syllabi in order to help other communities make sense of the historical and political underpinnings that frame our current circumstances. Syllabi have been written to further contextualize the horrific Charleston church shooting, anti-Muslim racism, immigration, Standing Rock and the rise of Trump. These syllabi have the common goal of serving as a tool for those interested in social justice to educate themselves on the deeper contexts that underlie our most pressing issues of the current day.

One point I’d like to emphasize, though, has less to do with the content itself and more with those who are organizing it. Most all of the syllabi I listed here are curated by scholars of color. Back in November, I wrote about the importance of creating a more diverse professoriate in academia, as with their research comes asking a “more diverse set of questions—questions that are critical of using whiteness and capitalism as the norm by which all other subjects and ideas are measured.” That scholars of color are leading the way in these initiatives to digitally distribute knowledge across communities should come as no surprise. Community-based projects are central to the practice of collective liberation as we work to move our research beyond the Ivory Tower.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

By using current events as framing sites for deep dives into histories of the United States, scholars, researchers and activists are using online syllabi to distribute foundational texts and accessible content that help others process what’s going on and how we got to these moments.
The first real instance of an online syllabus going viral was in 2014, with the instigation and organization of the #FergusonSyllabus by Marcia Chatelain, an African American Studies and history professor at Georgetown University.
Syllabi written to contextualize the Charleston church shooting, anti-Muslim racism, immigration, Standing Rock and the rise of Trump have the common goal of serving as a tool for those interested in social justice to educate themselves on the deeper contexts that underlie our most pressing issues of the current day.

RELATED ISSUES

2/10/2021 | Celebrate zines.

1/21/2021 | Invest in new media.

11/8/2020 | Rethink what a professor looks like.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Nicole Cardoza 2/10/21 Nicole Cardoza 2/10/21

Celebrate zines.

In a previous newsletter, I wrote about the pros and cons of using new media as a way to imagine and organize around collective change and liberation. Despite the fast and global reach of these digital tools, there is also something to be said about distributing knowledge through a more low-tech option: the zine.

Happy Wednesday, and welcome back! Today we're looking at the original newsletters as part of Ida's ongoing series of investing in new media. If you subscribed to 28 Days of Black History, you may have read the history of the Negro History Bulletin, which served a similar purpose decades ago.

Thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole

Ps – be sure to sign up for 28 Days of Black History.

TAKE ACTION

Support the work of BIPOC zinesters by donating to community projects like POC Zine Project and Brown & Proud Press.
Check out the zines featured in the electronic archives of the Barnard Zine Library and the Sherwood Forest Zine Library. Read through some that speak to you. If the zine’s author(s) have an online presence, write to them to thank them for their work.
Make your own zine about something that you are passionate about and share it with your community.
Check out your local bookstore’s zine collection & buy a zine to support the bookstore and the zine’s author(s)! (Women & Children First in Chicago, IL and Trident Booksellers & Cafe in Boston, MA are only two of many indie bookstores that sell amazing, self-published zines!)

GET EDUCATED

By Ida Yalzadeh (she/her)

Zines (pronounced “zeen,” like “magazine”) are low-budget, independently produced publications, often made up of sheets of paper xeroxed, folded, and stapled together. Their content can encompass anything from fiction and poetry to art, photography, personal narratives, interviews, how-to guides, manifestos, and so much more. These publications have a small distribution run due to their DIY nature, usually not going outside of the authors’ own networks. Most importantly, zines have a tradition of operating outside of mainstream publication channels, and by doing so, creating tight-knit communities among its readers (Barnard College).

This practice of zine-making began with science fiction magazine readers who created their own self-published fanzines from mimeographs (The Creative Independent). In the 1970s, the tradition of the DIY spirit picked up; zines were used in the punk scene to promote underground bands(The Public). In the 1980s and 1990s, zines would again be central to the Queercore and Riot Grrrl movements. These “zinesters”—producers and/or readers of zines—wrote about their personal experiences with gender formation and sexual identity, and distributed their work to other fellow zinesters who also were thinking about the same questions (From Codex to Hypertext).

In addition to these uses, zines have a long history in political movements and activism, both within and outside of the United States. Zines’ low barriers to entry—publishing and distributing a publication only requires office supplies and a copy machine—contributed to their popularity. Zines allowed people without much power or capital to distribute information about U.S. systems of imperial oppression and domestic racial discrimination, as well as how these marginalized communities were resisting such systems.

Particularly in the mid-twentieth century United States, during the Civil Rights and Third Worldist movements, communities fighting for social change would use zines to distribute information about their anti-imperial and cross-coalitional work (Third World Studies). La Raza, a bilingual publication that ran from the late 1960s to the late 1970s, emerged out of Los Angeles’ Chicano movement and was critical to the wider recognition of the Chicano struggle for social justice at the time (Autry Museum of the American West). During the same period, from 1969 to 1974, Asian American students at UCLA wrote and produced the monthly zine, Gidra, which became known to many as the “voice of the Asian American movement” (Densho).

Bearing in mind these broader purposes of social justice and political change, many of today’s zine collectives honor the traditions of previous zine movements in their own publications and collection practices. Fifty years after its initial publication, Asian American and Mixed Asian students from UCLA and USC came together to restart the work of Gidra’s first iteration and translate its purpose to the twenty-first century (Gidra Media). POC Zine Project is only one example of a number of online venues that have been working toward collecting, archiving, and distributing zines for other like-minded individuals to find. Collectives such as the Queer Zine Archive Project and Printed Matter, Inc. are also doing the work of amplifying publications that speak to marginalized perspectives. Moreover, these digital spaces have created communities for zinesters to gather and read work with similar political and intellectual projects to their own.

While zines may not have the same potential of going viral as a social media or blog post, their ability to form tightly networked collectives and communities are historically embedded within their primary purpose. The zines’ low barriers to entry, moreover, allows for information to be produced and distributed without the need for mainstream approval. By forging strong community networks and giving greater informational access to marginalized folks, zines continue to be an option for slow-form communication among advocates and activists for political and social change.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Zines have a tradition of operating outside of mainstream publication channels, and in doing so, forge closely networked communities with those who find connection with its contents.
During the Civil Rights and Third Worldist movements of the mid-twentieth century, zines’ low barriers to entry contributed to their popularity for distributing information about U.S. systems of imperial oppression and domestic racial discrimination, as well as how these marginalized communities were resisting such systems.
Many of today’s zine collectives honor the traditions of previous zine movements in their own publications and collection practices.

RELATED ISSUES

1/21/2021 | Invest in new media.

6/15/2020 | Diversify your media consumption.

8/3/2020 | Stay awake.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 1/21/21 Nicole Cardoza 1/21/21

Invest in new media.

Earlier this month, Twitter removed Donald Trump from their platform, citing his incitement of violence at the Capitol as against their “Glorifications of Violence” policy (Twitter). The social media platform has been abused by many, as it has provided megaphones for individuals who support policies that discriminate and enact violence upon already marginalized folks. On the other hand, it has also allowed for organizations fighting for real change to amplify their message and to a larger audience more quickly and globally than ever before.

Happy Thursday! Yesterday I felt a collective exhale from many across the nation. It's easy to pretend that a new administration will change everything. But in fact, it's all of us that need to change, and recognize that the systemic injustices we face are far beyond the presidency.

One way to do that is by reckoning with how we process information. We need to invest in emerging platforms and people to have diverse and nuanced perspective. Make broaden your media consumption part of your new year's resolutions. Ida has created a series on "democratizing knowledge" to introduce us to emerging and necessary platforms for education and growth. Here's our first. I love that, through these recommendations, can build relationships with leaders and organizers we may never meet in traditional outlets.

And creators like me get to be connected to people like YOU! Remember to send along a question for Saturday's Study Hall, and join us on our d igital community. As always, this work is possible because of you. Consider subscribing for $7/month on Patreon, or give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Move beyond just retweeting or sharing media that provides critical information and resources. Rather, also take the time to read and reflect on how you can support suggested action items that can be sustained over the long term.
Subscribe to Zeynep Tufekci’s newsletter Insight or read her book Twitter and Tear Gas: The Power and Fragility of Networked Protest in order to understand the possibilities and limitations of new media in large-scale activism.
Read #identity: Hashtagging Race, Gender, Sexuality and Nation to learn about the ways that different new media scholars are conceptualizing digital spaces of resistance and advocacy, as well as discrimination and surveillance.
Diversify what you read each day! Search for publications by writers you admire, spend time researching your favorite topics on social media to find diverse perspectives, and encourage your friends, family and colleagues to do the same.

GET EDUCATED

By Ida Yalzadeh (she/her)

There is, however, a caveat to this last point. Twitter has been criticized for its limitations in creating long term social change. Sociologist Zeynep Tufekci argues that its ephemeral nature doesn’t naturally lend itself to the slow and sustained work of movement building (TED). Critical to these tasks of resistance and liberation is “new media,” which encompasses digital forms of distribution that have allowed for a fast and global reach, such as social media platforms. While the role of social media is central to this conversation and the way in which we distribute information, I’d instead like to turn to some other mediums of new media that can serve as potential tools for thinking and organizing collectively.

This is the first of a multi-part series on “democratizing knowledge,” or making knowledge accessible to a wider public. So much of the way that we consume information now allows us to think and gather more expansively than before. Throughout the series, I want to highlight some of the ways that we can use different mediums of information transfer to organize movements of resistance and realize our goal of collective liberation.

Google Docs is one such digital medium that has been used to distribute reading, resources and support to social movements (The Cut). After the 2016 election, Google Docs began to be used more widely in order to aggregate resources for collective action. In the last year, usage surged, despite questions about the platform’s privacy (MIT Technology Review). The June protests in the wake of George Floyd’s murder sparked the creation of Google Docs supporting Black Lives Matter. Everything from letter templates, to bail fund lists, to resource databases were distributed across the internet to support Black folks and their allies. We must also be mindful of the platform’s drawbacks: there are critiques of Google Docs as having the potential to also be seen and forgotten, and just as important, the company’s recent firing of Timnit Gebru implies a larger issue at Google regarding their ethical threshold in the face of capitalism (Wired). That being said, the platform’s ability to easily encourage collaboration and distribute knowledge should not be discounted.

Newsletters are another means of decentralized knowledge distribution that allows for a wide and accessible spread of information. Newsletters are usually operated by one person (or a small number of people) who send information directly to subscribers’ inboxes via platforms like Substack, Tiny Letter and Mailchimp. Much of the discourse around newsletters has focused on the big-name journalists who have quit working for reputable news outlets and started their own newsletters (The New York Times). However, it is also important to emphasize newsletters’ potential for BIPOC writers and activists. Platforms like Substack have given these folks a low barrier to entry in order to to write and widely distribute information about mental health, beauty, culture, queerness, surveillance and belonging.

Much like the weblogs that have long been a mainstay of internet culture, newsletters can be understood as a form of digital resistance (New Media & Society). Anti-Racism Daily—the newsletter you are reading right now—is one such space. First begun by Nicole Cardoza as a side project to propose actionable items to support Black lives, the daily email has managed to find its way into thousands of inboxes. Newsletters like these amplify the voices of writers who might be overlooked by traditional publishing, writers who are advocating for structural change and liberation.

Google Docs and newsletters are only two forms of new media. We live in an age where information is more global and accessible than ever before. Using new media platforms allows collectives to gather, plan and collaborate in a way that lowers the barrier to entry. This is especially important for marginalized groups, who have long been a minority in most American newsrooms (Columbia Journalism Review, Nieman Lab).

We must also see these new media platforms as tools in the fight for collective liberation. While the information that can be distributed across these channels are critical to collective knowledge and organizing, we also need to do the work to act in a collective, meaningful way that can be sustained over the long-term.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Critical to the current tasks of resistance and liberation is “new media,” which encompasses digital forms of distribution that have allowed for a fast and global reach, such as social media platforms.
Using new media platforms like Google Docs and newsletters allows collectives to gather, plan and collaborate in a way that lowers the barrier to entry.
Such platforms are especially important for marginalized groups, who have long been a minority in most American newsrooms (Columbia Journalism Review, Nieman Lab).
But these platforms are simply tools. We also need to do the work to act in a collective, meaningful way that can be sustained over the long-term.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 12/3/20 Nicole Cardoza 12/3/20

Unpack Middle Eastern stereotypes in Hollywood.

The Southwest Asian/North African (SWANA) community is one example of a group that has faced harmful representations and stereotyping in Hollywood. A 2016 report uncovered many findings that support this fact, particularly on television. A majority of television characters from this region (67%) appear in crime or geopolitical dramas. Among those characters, 78% are “trained terrorist/agents/soldiers or tyrants,” which reinforces the stereotype that this group should be understood as a threat. On top of that, two-thirds of all television characters from the Middle East “speak with pronounced foreign accents,” solidifying the idea that those from the region will always be “foreigners” in the United States (MENA Arts Advocacy Coalition). In other words, these findings illustrate how Hollywood co-signs the belief that those in the SWANA community do not and cannot belong within the bounds of the nation.

Hi everyone – and happy Thursday! Thanks so much for all your responses on yesterday's survey. We're trying to create more resources to support this diverse community in 2021, and that insight is super helpful. Another helpful insight? Today's newsletter by Ida. As someone that grew up in an all-white community, I was only introduced to the SWANA community through movies that horribly misrepresented the community. Highly recommend reading every word of this piece and taking all action items.

This newsletter is made possible by our generous group of contributors. Support our work by making a one-time gift on our website or PayPal, or giving monthly on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). To subscribe, go to antiracismdaily.com. You can share this newsletter and unlock some fun rewards by signing up here.

You can now gift the Anti-Racism Dailyto a friend. It's pay-what-you-wish and I'm happy to send a holiday greetings at no cost too – just reply to this email.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Support the MENA Arts Advocacy Coalition, an organization that works “for the advancement and visibility of Middle Eastern/North African performers on-screen in film, television and streaming platforms.”
Watch the documentary Reel Bad Arabs (or read the book it’s based on) to learn more about how Middle Easterners have been depicted in Hollywood over time.
Watch films and television featuring SWANA actors and/or made by SWANA creators that depict lived experience with greater nuance, like Ramy Youssef’s Ramy and Desiree Akhavan’s The Bisexual (both streaming on Hulu).
Read bell hooks’ Reel to Real: Race, Class and Sex at the Movies to understand how television and film can serve as sites of liberation or oppression for communities of color more broadly.

GET EDUCATED

By Ida Yalzadeh (she/her)

We’ve previously written about the ways that Hollywood whitewashes film and television to prefer stories represented and made by white people. Also crucial in this conversation is how Hollywood has consequently represented the Middle East throughout its history.

While some may think that this sort of stereotyping is concentrated in the post-9/11 era, Hollywood’s stereotypical portrayal of the SWANA community and the contested region has roots that go even further back. Scholars have noted the presence of the Middle East and Middle Eastern characters in Hollywood going back to just after World War II. At a time when the United States began asserting themselves as a superpower in the world arena, Hollywood and the film industry were influenced by U.S. foreign policy decisions (and that sort of mentality has never really seemed to stop). Hollywood used the Middle East as the setting of biblical epics like The Ten Commandments (1956) and Ben Hur (1959)—stories that showed the very American ideal of the power of freedom over slavery (Epic Encounters). Other films like Arabian Nights (1942) showed the Middle East as an exotic and Orientalized fantasy land. In so doing, Hollywood flattened and whitewashed the Middle East to serve the United States’ imperial interests.

After the 1967 Six-Day War between Israel and Egypt, Jordan and Syria, Hollywood depictions of the Middle East and its inhabitants shifted. Arabs, in particular, were portrayed by the film industry as terrorists and other insidious stereotypes (Atlas Obscura). The most notable example is the 1991 film Not Without My Daughter, which portrays Sally Field as an American woman trying to escape her Iranian husband’s clutches, who is intent on trapping her in Iran, where she has few rights. Although the Iran Hostage Crisis had ended a decade prior, disdain for Iranians and Iran was still apparent in the United States. And while the film’s initial release was not notable, it has continued to endure in the cultural zeitgeist as “evidence of the barbarity of Iranian men” and Islam. More significantly than that, it was screened in schools for “educational purposes” (Vulture). This trope continued into the 1990s, with films such as True Lies (1994) and The Siege (1998) depicting Arabs and Palestinians as terrorists.

In the wake of September 11, this trend of portraying Middle Easterners as terrorists did not abate, as films like Argo (2012) and Zero Dark Thirty (2012) were released to critical acclaim. But, in addition to these Hollywood depictions that tied SWANA and Muslim Americans to a sinister and aggressive other, a “sympathetic Muslim” character emerged that proved to be just as harmful. After 9/11, primetime crime and political dramas would feature sympathetic or more “positive” representations of Arabs and Muslims. Characters included Muslims who were steadfast patriots to the United States or victims of a hate crime. While this may seem like a good thing on the surface, it is actually used to strengthen the idea of the U.S. as a benevolent power (like after World War II) and justify imperial aggression abroad (Arabs and Muslims in the Media).

To move forward, we need to acknowledge how Hollywood has historically stereotyped the Middle East, depicting people from the region as barbaric, exotic, backwards, threatening, dangerous, or objects of pity. Rather than perpetuating a particular idea of the Middle East as a monolith, we should feature the voices of an array of individuals coming from the SWANA community to give texture to representations of lived experiences. Although there are parts of this experience that involve trauma sustained during and after 9/11 — as well as the many other contentious moments that have come with U.S.-Middle East relations — the community’s experiences encompass so much more.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

A majority of SWANA television characters (67%) appear in crime or geopolitical dramas. Among those characters, 78% are “trained terrorist/agents/soldiers or tyrants,” which reinforces the stereotype that this group should be understood as a threat.
While some may think that this sort of stereotyping is concentrated in the post-9/11 era, Hollywood’s stereotypical portrayal of the SWANA community has roots that go even further back, with scholars identifying the post-World War II era as the beginning of Middle Eastern representation in Hollywood.
Rather than perpetuating a particular idea of the Middle East as a monolith, we should feature the voices of an array of individuals coming from the SWANA community to give texture to representations of lived experiences.

RELATED ISSUES

9/15/2020 | End Hollywood whitewashing.

7/17/2020 | Analyze representation in media.

8/5/2020 | Avoid spiritual bypassing.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 11/8/20 Nicole Cardoza 11/8/20

Rethink what a professor looks like.

When we talk about issues of diversity in higher education, we usually are referring to the student population. While it is important to work on increasing MFGLI (minority, first-generation, and low-income) student representation on college campuses, I’d like to focus on a problem commonly overlooked outside of the academy: the lack of diversity in those who research and teach at the university level.

Happy Sunday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. As we've discussed, much of what defines dominant culture is taught to us. This sounds meta, but we're also taught who's supposed to teach us by the racial and ethnic composition of teachers. Today, Ida joins us to express the importance of diverse faculty at the university level.

This is the Anti-Racism Daily, where we send one email each day to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also give monthly or annually on Patreon. If this email was forwarded to you, you could subscribe at antiracismdaily.com.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Read articles and studies written by or featuring faculty of color, not just on issues of race but across topics and disciplines.
Support and/or donate to organizations like the Ford Fellows Fund and the Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship, whose mission is to diversify academia through mentorship and professional development programs.
Read Michel-Rolph Trouillot’s Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History in order to understand how the act of “making history” can reinforce structural inequality.

GET EDUCATED

By Ida Yalzadeh (she/her)

Although the U.S. Census shows that people of color account for over a third of the United States’ population, a 2017 survey reports that only 18.9% of full-time faculty in higher education identify as people of color (National Center for Education Statistics). Even worse, the number of faculty of color in the United States has not grown over the past decade (Inside Higher Ed). And this is a problem.

A lack of racial diversity in the professoriate means that the popular image of what a professor looks like remains predominantly white (and usually male). The consequences of this assumption are wide and varied. For students of color, this lack of representation in the academy means that they may not see themselves reflected in who teaches them. As a result, students of color may not feel like they belong in academic environments, leading to retention issues and perpetuating uneven enrollment (Forbes).

For faculty of color themselves, though, this underlying assumption of what a professor looks like speaks to how these individuals must face daily microaggressions and even direct, institutional harassment. Twitter hashtags like #blackintheIvory and academic threads

have exposed these issues. Faculty of color—particularly women of color faculty members—have been mistaken for cleaning staff, a spouse of a student, or a student. (As a woman of color who is a faculty member myself, I have commonly had people mistake me for a student or otherwise be in disbelief that I am, in fact, a professor.) One professor started a Twitter thread shared microaggressions he had received, including: “You speak so well—were you adopted?” and “I see you struggle with certain words that start with specific letters—I know that is a common problem for your people.”

Faculty of color also experience surveillance and harassment on campus. A few months ago, a Black professor at Santa Clara University described how campus security racially profiled her brother and followed him back to her home. Afterward, security required the professor to show her campus ID to prove she lived in her own house (HuffPost).

Moreover, many faculty of color must contend with institutions and disciplines that call their credentials and accomplishments into question. In 2019, Dan-el Padilla Peralta, a professor of Classics at Princeton University, was speaking on a Society for Classical Studies conference panel when he was told by a white female independent scholar that the only reason he got his job was because he was Black, an accusation that reeks of tokenism (Inside Higher Ed). That she felt comfortable enough to make these remarks in public speaks to the reality of the academy as an overwhelmingly white institution. In 2015, only 10.5% of all Humanities doctoral degrees were awarded to people from underrepresented backgrounds, and the percentage for Classics doctoral degree holders is even less: 3.9% (American Academy of Arts and Sciences). While many at the conference denounced such racist remarks, her view highlights the entitlement endemic in these historically white spaces.

In response to this incident, Peralta commented on this pervasiveness: “White fragility disrupting the practice of grounded and data-backed critical scholarship: what a surprise… This wasn’t the first and won’t be the last time I receive the ‘you got X because you’re Black’ treatment; and if I had a dollar for every scholar of color with the same experience, I’d hum Cardi B’s ‘Money’ all the way to a safe deposit box” (Medium).

But what is most troubling for Peralta—and for many other scholars of color—is what these institutions and disciplines are missing. They don’t realize that it is precisely because of a diverse faculty of scholars and teachers that new paths can be forged in research. As Peralta put it, “I should have been hired because I was Black… because my Black being-in-the-world makes it possible for me to ask new and different questions within the field, to inhabit new and different approaches to answering them” (Medium).

Through their research, a more diverse professoriate can ask a more diverse set of questions—questions that are critical of using whiteness and capitalism as the norm by which all other subjects and ideas are measured. In the United States, the history of knowledge production has established a Euro- & Western-centric point of view (Journal of Black Studies, Equity & Excellence in Education). While disciplines like sociology and public health have historically touted their commitment to “objectivity,” the particular standards by which issues such as the family unit and disease were measured assumed whiteness as the ideal (Seeing Race Again).

Although legitimate ways of knowing are produced outside of the Ivory Tower, it is still important to increase the number of faculty of color at institutions of higher education. It is high time that we expand our understanding of what a professor looks like. A more diverse faculty is another step towards further exploration of issues that are important to communities of color and their liberation. It is another step toward building a more equitable future.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

A 2017 survey reports that only 18.9% of full-time faculty in higher education identify as people of color (National Center for Education Statistics)
A lack of racial diversity in the professoriate means that the image of what a “professor” looks like remains predominantly white & male.
Through their research, a more diverse professoriate can ask a more diverse set of questions—questions that are critical of using whiteness and capitalism as the norm by which all other subjects and ideas are measured.

6/11/2020 | Support Black-owned businesses.

ARCHIVES

Learn from public syllabi.

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Celebrate zines.

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Invest in new media.

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Unpack Middle Eastern stereotypes in Hollywood.

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Rethink what a professor looks like.

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

ACCOUNT

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