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  • Journeying “Home”: Reflections on Pedagogy, Resistance, and Possibility
  • Hannah Oliha-Donaldson (bio)

Am I to be cursed forever with becoming somebody else on the way to myself?

—Audre Lorde, “Change of Season”

Being a woman of color in higher education has never been easy, yet, in this historical moment, it has become even more difficult. In addition to endemic diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) issues facing higher-education institutions—such as the underrepresentation of minorities, the struggle for equitable outcomes in retention and graduation rates, and pervasive organizational climates that offer access but not belonging—the evolving context of the United States is creating a greater sense of dislocation and insecurity at pedagogical and social levels. In a season when it seems the credibility and contributions of minorities are openly questioned in some circles to sanction nativism and the rabid exclusionary needs of the radical right, it feels like the stakes are higher.

Many years ago, while I was completing a study exploring diversity and equity issues, one of the participants described the challenge of feeling pressured to conform to a default “white setting” in higher education. For those like me who are underrepresented, this pressure has often manifested as an uncomfortable struggle between asserting one’s unique identity or simply “fitting in” and “playing the game” to graduate, become tenured, or just make it through the next faculty meeting (Oliha 2011). Yet this enduring struggle is only the foreground of a more complex societal problem that is playing out on the national stage today.

In the background is a ubiquitous historical legacy of racial hierarchy, a colonializing social order created to discipline and control minoritized bodies, and economic imperatives met through this problematic ordering of [End Page 3] society. In the background are contemporary manifestations of imperialistic ideals casting a subjugating shadow and culture-deficit label on minoritized bodies, reifying this default setting and sanctioning inequity. This historical legacy and these imperialistic ideals are like a bitter pot of stew left to simmer on a stove in perpetuity. The bubbles gently roll, releasing steam that saturates the air with the pungent aroma of injustice and oppression. Yet, at certain times in history, the stove is turned up, and the stew is stirred. At such moments, the bubbles spill over, and that aroma intensifies.

We are in such a moment in U.S. history. Through claims to “make America great again,” Donald J. Trump became the 45th president in a historic election in 2016, which was marked by mayhem, dissention, and demagoguery. He fed a voracious crowd looking to “take America back,” by reaffirming age-old prejudices and sanctioning apathy toward social and institutional forms of oppression directed at the most disenfranchised: racial/ethnic minorities, women, and undocumented persons, among others. The ricochet effects have been felt widely and broadly, and in educational institutions, the impact and consequences of the evolving tensions in the nation are indeed spilling over.

The Southern Poverty Law Center surveyed 10,000 educators in a post-election survey and found “90 percent said the climate at their schools had been negatively affected” by the 2016 election (SPLC 2017). Additionally, “80 percent described heightened anxiety and fear among students, particularly immigrants, Muslims, and African Americans. Numerous teachers reported the use of slurs, derogatory language, and extremist symbols in their classrooms” (ibid.). As a minority in higher education, my identity has always been salient in this space. Yet, beyond navigating the default setting that sometimes leads to difficult identity negotiations and institutional disconnections, I now find myself grappling with some new tensions in light of this troubling climate and in light of how my body does, and does not, matter in this historical moment.

In my daily interactions, I have a heightened awareness that my very presence matters more than it ever has—both for me and for others. Sometimes, this scares me. The unfolding national context greatly impacts the pedagogical moves I make in my classroom, for I am aware that the pot of stew—that repulsive mix of problematic historical legacy and subjugating imperial ideology—is being stirred, and the temperature raised to a boiling point; while I am ashamed to admit this, I am...

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