The irony of the social justice campus
Stifling student voice, agency, and dialogue
In 2010, I graduated from Brandeis University. My time at Brandeis was life-altering. I met my forever friends. I learned a whole new perspective on the world from sociology courses and late-night, dorm-room discussions. I was fortunate enough to attend Brandeis on a full scholarship named after Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and this opportunity provided me with many financial privileges and social support. Most importantly, at Brandeis, I set the foundation for who I am and my purpose on this planet- to change education into a more fair and just system of opportunity, not exclusion.
This should be the goal of most universities.
But, these experiences were not without difficulties along the way. I found that many spaces on campus were not welcoming for a woman of color like myself. My psychology classes were majority White and Jewish, so I rarely saw other students or faculty who looked like me or talked about topics important to my community. When I briefly considered exploring Greek life, the only two sororities on campus were also majority, and historically, White and Jewish. The code-switching necessary to access these spaces was exhausting.
Similar to most campuses, anti-Blackness showed up, like the time a school paper featured a caricature of a Black butler. Yet, I was always empowered by the history of Ford Hall and loved hearing directly from alumni who advocated for just treatment on campus in the face of attempts from the administration to restrict their right to protest.
Luckily, I found my way to spaces where I could be myself, like the Intercultural Center (ICC), which felt strategically placed in the bowels of the campus down a set of steep stairs near an old sophomore dorm. Here, I found multiple student clubs that spoke to each element of my multiracial identity and participated in annual events, like Culture X, that welcomed my family and friends who attended to witness important parts of my college life.
I learned about social justice from the people who surrounded and invested in me. White professors like Gordie Fellman, David Cunningham, and Thomas Shapiro broadened my critical eye to see systems and structures in place of popular and coded rhetoric about “bootstraps” and “personal responsibility.” Inspirational friends, like Shaina Gilbert and Noam Shuster-Eliassi, showed me that despite oppressive structures, we have the power of collective agency to change the world through service and humor.
Though I did not feel like I belonged everywhere on campus, I have always felt indebted to these pockets of love and support. To try to return the privileges that Brandeis has conferred on me, I have spent countless hours doing alumni service through recruitment, mentorship, and planning events across the country since graduating, especially when I served as the co-chair of the Alumni of Color Network.
However, over time, I observed how maintaining an institutional commitment to social justice was especially complicated given the university’s important Jewish identity. As a student, conversations about the Israeli and Palestinian conflict were not welcomed. Through continued research since graduating, I have learned so much more about the history and the current-day complexities related to issues concerning the historical legacy of British colonization, land disputes, access to natural resources, and extreme violence.
We have a deep and sordid past here in the United States but I am grateful that Brandeis provided me with an environment where I could learn the historically informed and difficult truth, develop my skills for understanding others, and build a community of students turned alumni who spanned the globe.
I know that I have so much more to learn, but I also know that suppression and exclusion are never the answer- as dictated by Brandeis’ founding. Like any institution, Brandeis is not perfect, but I was shocked when university leadership made this statement:
I wondered what this definitive statement meant for my Jewish allies who do not support Israel’s attacks on Palestinian civilians. My confusion and disappointment were deepened further when Brandeis’ leadership decided to ban a student group, enforce protest policies, and expand policing, rather than engage in practices of love, dialogue, and support.
As a former college counselor turned professor who now studies how the history of higher education informs the equity issues that persist today, I spend a lot of time imagining a different future- one that our students deserve.
Might university leadership better fulfill the social justice promise if they…
…attended protests and engaged in conversation?
…committed additional resources to the counseling services they link in emails during difficult times?
…offered spaces for teach-ins that facilitate learning, discussion, and community building?
…engaged in truth and reconciliation processes? (which I learned at Brandeis, by the way)
I have always wanted Brandeis University to be the kind of institution that we higher education scholars dream of: a place where young people can learn about the world, themselves, and how to become change agents for good. But the reality is, much of higher education is ruled by money (donors), status (rankings), and control (hidden behind racialized policies).
We should demand more.
The future of our collective humanity depends on it.
