I've been grappling with this question for the past couple of weeks. Some might argue it's actually easier for people of color to leave academia, considering all the challenges they face and the fact that historically, universities were not made for them.
What does it mean to leave academia? It's when someone goes to graduate school for 6+ years to get a PhD in a particular subject, conducts original research, sometimes abroad, and writes a 200+ page dissertation, presumably to become a university professor, but along the way decides to go a different route. This could be early on, after their first year in their program, or years later, after they finish their doctorate, or even after they've become a professor and realize they would rather dedicate themselves to something else.
Why am I asking this? Well, I left academia in 2016 and consider myself a person of color. However, over the past couple of months I've had time to revisit old projects, including my dissertation and an article I wrote in graduate school. I've also talked to several people, old and new, about my interests going forward and how they're related to the work I did previously. For the first time, I've been editing and revising my writing and am seriously considering sharing it with the world. A couple of weeks ago a dear friend gave me some comments on an article I wrote in 2010 and said what people have said to me from the beginning: "I hope you can find a way to stay in academia, you have so much to contribute. Your work is relevant and it's so important to the scholarship." I'm sure everyone who leaves academia hears the same thing, yet I somehow wondered if it meant more because I was a Latina, and we are rare in the academy. Maybe it was because my work inspired her and she's still finishing her program. In many ways, my research interests were shaped by my own experience as a Mexican immigrant in the US. My doctoral research was a history of American immigration policy, US-Mexico relations, and American ethnic politics. In graduate school I taught classes on Latino Social Movements and Mexican Immigration to the US. The irony is that when I was in graduate school, I was repeatedly told not to let my experience influence my work. I found that advice kind of odd, especially considering how valuable my experience was once on the job market, when I began to apply for faculty positions.
Faculty of Color
Whether we like it or not, faculty of color bear an undue burden as do other visible people of color in high positions. They are expected to represent a community, whether they can or want to in the first place. What does that mean? Well, in theory, that who you are helps inform your research, the questions you ask, the classes you teach, your ability to find innovative sources, and perhaps most importantly, your ability to connect with students from diverse backgrounds. The idea is that professors of color are important for the scholarship (the books that get written in a particular field) but also to create role models and representation in higher education. Some argue that having faculty of color at universities helps attract and retain students of color and that a university's commitment to diversity is reflected in part, in how it supports these faculty.
Why does it matter if your professor looks or sounds like you? Well first of all, they might be able to say your name correctly. That's kind of a big deal. When I got my PhD I was glad the Dean was an expert on Medieval Spain because he spoke perfect Spanish and said my full name correctly in front of my family at graduation: María Eugenia Balandrán Castillo. This might not be a big deal to you, if you have a common English name, but to me it was. I worked really hard and appreciated that he didn't butcher my name like they had at my undergrad graduation. Imagine spending 8 years to get your degree and your family flies in, not once or twice, but three times, because you kept moving your graduation date because you took longer on edits than originally planned. Your parents who think so highly of you and brag about you to their friends and relatives, only to realize at your graduation, that the people there don't even know your name. How embarrassing. (This is the scenario I had prepared for, to be honest.) I was really pleased it didn't come to that. Granted, as in this example, you don't even have to be a person of color to say someone's name correctly, but sometimes it helps.
To be fair, this can go wrong too. I have a friend whose children may be classified as Latino. They have a Spanish surname and are 3rd or 4th generation in the US. Their dad is Latino and their mom is white. However, my friend's daughter is an elementary school teacher at a school with a predominantly Latino student body, and her students' parents, many of whom are monolingual Spanish speakers, automatically assume she speaks Spanish, because of her name. When she explains that she doesn't, they have a hard time believing her, and assume she is lying. Which is why, she was relieved to take her husband's English last name when she recently got married, putting an end to that expectation. Perhaps this is an unfair expectation, but sometime it's accurate. You can always hope, I guess.
Then on the other hand there are people who really want to say your name right, and you just give up, because they're never going to get it, and you wish they'd just leave it alone. But I imagine it brings people closer together if you address them in their name correctly. When I was getting pretty advanced in my program (6th year), I had lots of people start calling me Maru, which is short for Maria Eugenia, and is something I had originally reserved for family. But hey, it showed me they were making an effort and felt close to me, so I kind of appreciated it. The funny thing is that native Spanish speakers already know that Maru is short for Maria Eugenia, so often times they recognize it automatically, and that too makes me feel closer to them.
Ok. Why else might it matter to have faculty of color? Well, it might help underrepresented students understand the instructor's cultural references, and feel like they belong, like when one of my old professors mentioned gansitos, a common Mexican snack. When I was an instructor at the University of Chicago I made tamales and ponche for our last meeting and I know it left an impact on my students. That's the stuff you typically eat & drink around the holidays in Mexico.
More importantly, though, faculty of color might ask questions that no one has asked before, and present a whole different outlook on some well established field. So what? Does it really matter if books don't get written and classes don't get taught? Would anyone even notice? Well, it might matter to students of color. But how would they know if you were missing in the first place? Well, some might feel that college just isn't relevant to them, or made for them, and drop out. That happens a lot actually. Is that so terrible? In some ways, yes. College isn't everything they promised. It won't automatically fix your life. For lots of people, it leaves them buried in debt they'll never be able to pay off. But if done right, a college degree can help you in the long run. And if you're failing to make students of color feel like they belong, then you're failing to serve all students.
Lastly, faculty of color might know what you are going through as a student of color, based on their own extensive experience with discrimination in higher education. But this could go a couple of different ways:
1) The advocate approach: Faculty of color might notice the hesitancy of students of color to speak up in class or voice a different opinion than the rest of the class instead of automatically assuming they just didn't do the reading, as some white colleagues have admitted to me in private. Faculty of color might intervene when a student says something offensive in class or explain why a certain term is problematic. (Like when I had to explain the problem with the word "illegal" in my Mexican immigration class.) Or they might not. But they may want to.
It's actually not that easy. In the example above, my intervention was not automatic. It caught me by surprise that students were using the "i" word. But it really shouldn't have surprised me, since some of the readings included the word. I guess I never explicitly told them how hurtful it was, especially to undocumented students, who might be in the class. So it took me one or two class sessions before I actually brought in class materials and explained what it meant to use that word and what the alternatives were.
I know when I was in college a lot of faculty missed the opportunity to step in, and now I realize they might not have known how. The other problem is, sometimes faculty want the students themselves to resolve these issues or they don't want to alienate their white students. Some professors want to remain "objective" as in they have no opinion on the subject, i.e., they are neutral, and believe students shouldn't take anything personally anyway because these are all just intellectual questions and not real life. And so all viewpoints are valid. Even the really racist ones. Because, after all, that's how the real world is anyway. But in my opinion, that's B.S. and professors should definitely take control of a situation that is getting out of hand. As a former student, I know how difficult it can be to sit in a space where microaggressions are left unchecked, over and over and over again, which only reinforces students of color's status as outsiders at institutions of higher learning AND affects their mental and physical health. Look it up. But hey, some people believe that's just how it is, and you better get used to it, fast. Which leads us to...
2) The tough love approach: Maybe they grew up in a different era and their experience was so negative that they actually reinforce and reproduce a lot of assimilationist practices that encourage students of color to blend in, tow the line, and just be happy they were admitted in the first place. Maybe they're trying to help and just want students of color to be prepared for when they are asked to prove themselves, over and over and over again. I get it, but this is kind of traumatic.
3) The don't bother me, I have enough on my plate, approach: Some professors of color might resent the added work of being role models and may just want to be scholars in their field, like everyone else. I know when I was an instructor I sometimes resented how familiar some Latino students acted towards me, crossing the student/teacher boundary. For those who decide to stay in the academy, this repeated experience may wear on them and predispose them to set firm boundaries upfront with students of color. Who knows. I remember a Latina student who stood me up for a meeting on a day when I had driven to campus exclusively to meet with her. I was livid. Or the Latina student who missed her presentation without warning and later explained she had missed class because she was experimenting with a new birth control pill. TMI!! Or the times when Latino male students repeatedly challenged me about my findings and assignments. I never got that type of treatment from my non-Latino students, and this over-familiarity really irked me. And yet when I complained about it with some colleagues I was horrified to hear them say: "Yeah, and to think they're taking the place of someone who actually deserves to be here." Excuse me??? WTF? That was no better. It wasn't true either. These students weren't taking the place of someone who actually deserved to be there. THEY deserved to be there. I just wish they treated me with the same respect they would treat a white instructor AND that they were treated with the same respect as any other student.
When I had my own students, it took me some time to figure out which style I wanted to embrace and I struggled with the clash between my values and my training. Not to mention, things changed between the time I went to school and the time I became an instructor. My students were much more vocal and unapologetic than I had ever been. They used terms like Latinx and by 2015, when I took my first job, schools had introduced trigger warnings to prepare students for discussions on sensitive topics. Not so when I went to school. One might say that my "old school" training was very much at odds with the expectations of current college students.
But before I go any further, let me just say that the benefits of faculty of color, are not limited to students of color. Why do I say this? Well, the truth is, that for people who have never seen a person of color in a position of power, this is an important opportunity. Now, that doesn't mean it is easy. Faculty of color and women of color in particular face a lot of resistance from students and colleagues.
Now the next point I'm going to make is very controversial. But as a person of color, you might also have examples from your personal life that illustrate a point you are trying to make or a concept you are trying to teach, because, believe it or not, the stuff we read in history classes actually really happened, or is still really happening. It's not fiction. It's real. And yet, there is this aversion in some places, to do oral histories or talk to living people about the past.
When I was a teaching assistant for Latin American Civilizations, towards the end of the quarter we had some readings that really resonated with me, as a Mexican, with parents who lived in Mexico. One was Hernando De Soto's The Other Path, which explained how squatters in Peru took control of informal settlements and forced the government to give them land titles. Well, it just so happened that the previous summer I had gone to Mexico to do research, and my dad had asked me for money because some squatters had taken over a vacant apartment that my mom owned. He explained that the squatters had brought in families and started to live there, and he needed money to hire a lawyer to kick them out. I explained that I didn't have any money and wished him luck. He later told me he was able to get them out by assembling his brothers-in-law and neighbors, to go fight the squatters. It worked. He was able to kick out the squatters and his family helped him find a lawyer experienced in these type of matters to file a motion so the squatters couldn't claim title to the unit. Well, you see, if I had followed the advice of my professors, I would have never shared that story. And in fact, I didn't. Not in class. But after class, for the students who wanted to keep chatting, I told them, and they were fascinated. I explained that yeah, all this was true, and it was still happening.
Same with another reading we had done. This one was about political patronage and basically said that if you are poor in Latin America sometimes you vote for people who don't have your best interest in mind. But still, politicians often make small concessions like throwing you a party or giving you a free meal right around election time, so you'll remember to go vote for them, even if what they give you is really small. Well, I had another story to illustrate this point. Around that same time I had visited my mom and one day we crossed the border from Tijuana into San Diego, and this is around the time when Jorge Hank Rhon was mayor of Tijuana, or it might have been when he was running for governor of Baja California, I'm not sure. But either way, she bought a magazine from a street vendor while we were waiting in line to cross the border. The magazine was Proceso, which is a weekly political magazine and my mom follows the news and politics pretty closely. Well anyway, the vendor who sold her the magazine had a bumper sticker for Hank Rhon on his cart where he carried all the newspapers and magazines. My mom saw it and quickly teased him: "You support Hank Rhon?" and the vendor replied somewhat defiantly: "Yeah. I do." This made me really uncomfortable I remember. And she pushed him a little further, this time out of genuine curiosity. "How come?" And he replied: "Because he threw us a party." Damn. His answer made me bow my head, embarrassed. I think my mom kind of rolled her eyes or shook her head, kind of signaling that this gesture was just for show, that it didn't mean anything, and he was wrong to show support for the PRI. But for some reason, his answer really stood with me. Despite how meaningless it was in the larger scheme of things, Hank Rhon had thrown the street vendors' union a party. His campaign had thought about them and spent at least a couple of hours thanking them for their support. And in a society where few people pay them any attention or respect, that meant something. Well, I remember telling my students who had stuck around these stories, both of them white students, and their eyes really lit up. They understood what I was talking about. And more importantly, it made them care. So no, this benefit of being a professor of color and being able to share personal stories is not limited to students of color.
Basically, faculty of color bring a lot of benefits to universities, both in their research and in their teaching. This can be a great motivator for students of color pursuing doctorates. But it also comes with a lot of pressure. How badly do you want it and how much are you willing to sacrifice?
Leaving Academia
When I was in grad school someone made a video that cautioned optimistic college students to steer clear of pursuing a doctorate.
The thing is, higher education is a business. And like any business, it runs on efficiency. Back in the day, not that many people got PhDs, and a decent amount were able to get full time positions at major and minor universities. You might initially be hired at a small college until you gained a little more experience and published your book, and then move onto a bigger name school, maybe have a couple visiting positions during your career, and then stay somewhere until you retired. That's over. Nowadays you are expected to take numerous short term gigs around the country and pray to one day stay somewhere for good. Students don't know this, but a large number of courses, especially introductory courses, are taught by people called lecturers. These are people with doctorates who are offered a one year position in which they teach the majority of intro courses in a field. These positions are usually listed as "Visiting Assistant Professor." It's not necessarily a terrible thing in theory, but in practice, it doesn't let you make plans or have any stability. Not to mention that this comes after years of already living with instability, as a graduate student. So for me, it got old and wasn't worth it. I also wanted to have control over where I lived.
There are a number of organizations now dedicated to helping PhDs leave academia and transition into something else. L. Maren Wood, the founder and CEO of Beyond the Professoriate, explains that there are both push and pull factors that lead people to leave academia. Maybe you don't like moving around every year, or you want to apply your skills outside the classroom, or you're more passionate about the content of your research and not the teaching itself. These are all valid reasons to pursue a career outside of academia. Isaiah Hankel is the founder and CEO of the Cheeky Scientist Association, which helps people remember their value as PhDs and make a successful transition to industry positions. I belong to both of these organizations and have found a lot of useful advice. But something I didn't find was a discussion of being a person of color leaving academia, which is what prompted me to write this article. Yes, I want to apply my skills in the real world, yes I don't want to move every year, and yes, I want to be valued as a PhD. But how do you cope with the sense of loss? The idea of who you thought you were going to be, that you sacrificed so much for. And how do you do it as a person of color who legitimately felt that they had a lot to contribute both to the scholarship and the classroom?
There is no easy answer. I did at one point feel a responsibility to design courses, write books, and mentor students. But eventually I reached a point where it didn't suit me anymore. I have a lot of skills I developed in graduate school and a lot I'm still working on. My research is still very relevant and I do feel like I have a lot to contribute. Lately, I've been feeling encouraged to share my work in a variety of formats and to speak up when I have something to say. Perhaps this blog is the first step on that path, a space where I can blend some of my interests, passions, and stories. Thanks for reading and stay tuned.