The Experience of a Native American English Professor in Central Pennsylvania

I am part-time English faculty at a wealthy, 95 percent Anglo, liberal arts college in Pennsylvania, and I am a candidate for a PhD in Native American studies. College administrators and my colleagues know that I am a tribally enrolled Native American (Shawnee). I used my tribal enrollment card for Form I-9 identification when I became employed there four years ago, and I (used to) speak often of my academic endeavors in the Native American discipline. I teach Native writers and culture as part of my English composition courses, and the course description appears in the college catalog. Despite this general knowing on campus, everything Native American about me and around me is invisible to my coworkers: my personhood, my discipline, Native colleagues in the field, Native owned and produced publications (including my own), and ultimately all Native people and Native history. College administrators proudly laud a campus "Native presence" because they allow a pan-tribal group to have a powwow once a year in our ballroom.

I am invisible before people who have no idea even what questions to ask so that my field and I can be known on campus and in the curriculum. We are completely foreign. Their education—from the president to the faculty to the students—has given them no language or knowledge to use to reach me or Native culture and history. I did not anticipate the amount of loneliness I would feel among people who I believe to be quite kind and respectful—who sincerely promote diversity on campus from the faculty to the curriculum. Unfortunately, I have had some bitter experiences of blatant racism and, perhaps because I so foolishly believed racism could not exist at this fine college so lauded for its commitment to civil rights and the highest academic endeavors, I was utterly shocked and disillusioned about the institution and human beings in general. But that was a long four years ago.

Since those first eye-opening months at this job, I have recovered, smartened up, and set myself to work, single-handedly, to turn this bad situation around. It is my greatest goal to bring a Native American studies program (a minor) to the college or an acceptable substitute of (my and anyone qualified) regularly offering courses in the discipline across the departments. I still believe, I must believe, that despite the college's deafening ignorance about Native peoples, this problem can be turned around.

Four years ago I looked forward to spending time with colleagues from the department over lunch and other departmental functions. Eventually what happened is that an ever-widening gulf grew between us because of our differing cultures. This proved especially amazing to me because I was not raised near a Native community, and our Nativeness was unacknowledged or hidden. I have always functioned well in the general American culture. I always perceived myself as generally being "like them," not an "other." This was the first time in my life I saw how truly different I am because of my cultural identity and ancestry. When I tried to defray the differences by talking about academics (my field of study in particular), the problem only worsened. Not only would the tenured faculty (of American literature), who were usually fifteen or more years my elder, not recognize major Native writers (like Paula Gunn Allen and N. Scott Momaday), but they would talk to me like I was an imbecile because my version of history, methodology, and understanding of literature sharply contrasted from theirs. Then I was avoided afterwards. Fortunately, I did not hide but kept looking for people to connect with. I have found a few from various departments, but mostly I spend time eating lunch with non-faculty. I socialize cautiously off-campus with only one person. Now that I have stopped talking about my field, I have noticed colleagues are much more at...