Academic Massacres: The Story of Two American Indian Women and Their Struggle to Survive Academia

Entering the university was a big step for me. The American Indian community at home encouraged me to pursue my PhD, assuring me that once I attained my degree I would be respected and could make a difference for Indigenous peoples. Furthermore, the university I chose to attend, a midwestern state university, meant I could continue my studies in creative writing and American Indian literature. Yes, I was assured by the brochures and from the long talks with administrators that there were actually American Indian instructors, American Indian students, and a strong Native studies program at this institution. Had I known that the eight-hundred mile journey from my home in Michigan meant plunging into a world void of the faces, culture, and beliefs so dear to my own, I would never have left. Now, as I am beginning my fifth year, my self-esteem, something any student needs to succeed, has diminished, and I am disillusioned with the entire system. I can say, however, that any strength remaining arises from those American Indians and very encouraging non-Natives who continue to support me through my education.

Last year, Franci, a very knowledgeable Lakota scholar and writer, arrived to teach at the university. My dear friend, Malea, had left, so I was pleased to see another American Indian face in the department. Our first meeting occurred in her office when I softly knocked on her door and welcomed her to the university. Strangely enough, I was the first person to welcome her with open arms. I was proud to have such a wonderful person in my midst, with her warm smile and sense of humor. She instilled a great deal of strength and offered unconditional encouragement in my own efforts to succeed in academics. Also, I was excited that the department claimed to be willing to assist her in staying at the university. Clearly, her wisdom and understanding of Indian peoples and the obstacles they face would be helpful to Indian students like me, especially since we so desperately need American Indian role models.

This past year it became even clearer that Indians face many hardships at the university, but most strikingly we continue to face attacks concerning the value of our own scholarship, primarily due to a lack of understanding and more specifically an unwillingness to understand Indigenous peoples at all. Nevertheless, by early spring Franci was replaced, and we were both left humiliated by the entire experience.

Imagine walking into a meeting where you are the only Indian. You are caught between two candidates, one, your best friend and the other, an extremely kind gentleman. This meeting sounds less than harmful, really. After all, do not universities and those who work fastidiously underneath the vines now have broadened minds? On this particular day, however, despite my expressed desire very early on to be left out of these activities, I found myself cleverly persuaded to perform as the token of my esteemed race and deeply regretted not having more notice so that I could don a feather and moccasins, just to illustrate the fine camaraderie "we" Indians share with those "white settlers."

Unfortunately, my purpose, being that I am just a graduate student, served only as validation for the pending decision. I did not feel privileged but only humiliated during this meeting. Though I cannot disclose the contents of this spectacular gathering, I did realize that in academics non-Natives know more about me, supposedly, than I know about myself. They know what is best for all Indians. Simply put, I left the meeting feeling immensely insulted and humiliated.

As quickly as the graven image of the department I once so revered emerged, Franci, too, experienced the callousness of the dominant culture's assumption of intellectual superiority. At the meeting where she was told she was not the chosen...