The Microaggressions I Encountered In Academia and its Connection with My Imposter Syndrome
Back in the earlier months of 2016, I remember scrolling through my newsfeed on Facebook, seeing a status where my former classmate bragged about how she now had a ‘chili pepper’ on RateMyProfessor (RMP). My narcissistic side then wondered if there was a chili pepper now for me too. Yet, checking my page on RMP was a big mistake that day, for I saw that a new review was posted. The reviewer claimed that I was “too nice” and that my class was “so easy.” They also claimed that their eighth grade class was much harder in comparison to my class. Because I was their instructor at the time, I knew exactly which student posted it, since I recognized the tone and style of their writing. Sadly, the student I suspected happened to be a young Asian-American man. Based on his placement test results, he somehow was placed at the remedial level despite already being an advanced writer (and yes, this was during the pre-AB 705 times back when there were more prerequisite courses in community colleges throughout California). Thus, he actually should have started his academic sequence with English 1A instead. So, I can understand his resentment.
Was that review still a form of microaggression? Absolutely, considering that despite the negative review, I was given a high score still. In a way, it was clearly a doomed backhanded “compliment” of sorts because the following quarter, the waitlist for both classes I taught were filled to the max and every.single.waitlisted.student.showed.up to an already full classroom on the first day of the quarter. Because who wouldn’t want to pass up the chance in taking a “super easy A instructor.” Of course, these assumptions could merely be a symptom from my imposter syndrome since at the end of the day, I was teaching courses that were required for all majors. So, naturally, these classes would always be full.
Additionally, since I also had good rapport with most of my students, including even said student who most likely wrote that RMP review, word of mouth does go around fast about instructor recommendations. Of course, at the time, I let that one review get to me, blaming it for further igniting my imposter syndrome.
Looking back however, I should not have fully blamed the microaggressions from that one RMP review for my insecurity but rather the microaggressions that existed behind the scenes within the institution that I was working for.
To preface, I understand that I am literally treading on thin ice, considering that I am still employed at this particular institution. However, the loophole I have decided for myself is that, because I am no longer a part of the department that I worked for back in the 2015–2016 academic year, I can therefore write this essay. Additionally, I am definitely not going to reveal any names nor will I vehemently bash my former department. For the most part, my former department was generally supportive of my teaching philosophy and, I received a tremendous amount of helpful feedback about my curriculum. However, because most of the members in my former department also happened to be white and/or were brought up in a higher socioeconomic background, I still faced microaggressions. These microaggressions, in the long run, had severely impacted my well-being — which furthered my imposter syndrome.
Most of the microaggressions I faced almost always occurred during faculty meetings. I recall one meeting where, everyone was brainstorming on ideas that would help with both outreach and enrollment. My idea was suggesting a literary festival on campus, since it would foster a sense of community for students, faculty, staff, and the rest of the general public. Plus, it would give local artists in the Bay Area a chance to share their work on campus. Everyone in the meeting seemed to like my idea and it was even included on their list of ideas. Yet, in the next faculty meeting, my idea wasn’t mentioned ever again.
Of course, I am at fault for not speaking up for myself. I could have even suggested a simpler alternative, such as a series of literary readings in a conference room or classroom that I would need to book in advance. At the time, I remained silent, assuming that, since the department was impacted due to budget cuts, it would have been too costly for a literary festival. However, at that moment, considering that I was the only non-white person attending the meeting that day, I should’ve realized then that it was a microaggression. Rather than outright denying my idea and giving me a valid reason on why it wouldn’t work, they instead chose to discard it completely. In fact, I am sure they knew that, because I did embody several Asian stereotypes of being both shy and reserved, that I would just remain silent. And sadly I was silent; I did nothing in response to their microaggression. As a result, I then came across as submissive (another Asian stereotype) to them, since at the time, I was not assertive.
There was one meeting even, where they were discussing strategies when having to deal with passive students. I cannot remember what I had said but I know it was something along the lines of trying to create discourse on the importance of approaching passive students with empathy. I believe I even mentioned about how some passive students may be overwhelmed from their personal life along with any trauma they could be coping with. For whatever reason, the chair of the department at the time acted as if she couldn’t understand the words coming out of my mouth (and yes, I am thinking of this exact scene from Rush Hour 2, hence the phrasing but if only in reality I dealt with just outright misinterpretations rather than microaggressions).
She kept repeating “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” every time I tried to restate my input in simpler terms. Another older faculty member even sat closer to me, putting on a concerned facial expression, asking me softly “What are you trying to say?”
I felt so embarrassed, since I could not understand why they were confused. For the remainder of the meeting, I remained silent. Now when I reflect back to that moment, it was yet another form of microaggression against me. Having empathy for students with passive or behavioral issues should not be that confusing for a room full of academic white women. Yet, it was once again, another attempt to discard my ideas. They took advantage of my nervous energy as means of distraction in order to silence me. In doing so, they can continue moving forward with ideas that more so appeal to the white academic gaze.
Objectively, no one was actively trying to antagonize me. I am sure they may have meant well when they wanted me to reiterate my statements. Nevertheless, it is rather peculiar that with my attempts in building empathetic discourse about students with specific examples, it was something that they were uncomfortable with. Which is strange, since they generally believed in equity and having student-centering teaching pedagogies. I guess when it comes to having actual empathy for students is where they draw the line in regards to their teaching philosophy. Basically, they’d rather stay comfortable in their performative activism.
Towards the end of the year, around the end of June 2016, I would find out that I did not get re-employment preference. As previously stated, my former department was impacted, which meant that the limited budget could not afford enough reading and writing courses for every instructor. Priority would go to full-time and part-time faculty with that re-employment preference. I was told that, if there are any class offerings, that they would let me know.
They of course didn’t, despite the fact that I was still in the system for at least a few more quarters.
I knew they wouldn’t. Even though at the time I was also employed at another college, it broke my heart still. I assumed that by not getting re-employment preference, I was hitting “rock bottom,” and it added more fuel to my imposter syndrome, spreading like wildfire amongst my inner thoughts. I remember crying so much and it was hard for me to focus since I had to catch up on grading since it was finals week.
Ultimately, I cannot put full blame onto the microaggressions I faced from academia for my imposter syndrome. Yet, at the same time, credible research has shown how even the slightest forms of microaggressions, in the long run psychologically impact one’s mental health and wellbeing. In doing so, it can snowball into depression, to the point where one’s work productivity can become negatively impacted. The microaggressions I suppressed during the 2015–2016 academic year did hinder my level of confidence. Right around August 2016, a recruiter from UC Santa Cruz had reached out to me, encouraging me to consider in applying for an adjunct faculty teaching position at their position. I ended up not moving forward in the application process, because I just didn’t have the emotional energy in filling out the application, tweaking my academic CV, and writing out a new cover letter. I strangely felt so numb and burned out. In a way, I did dodge a bullet, considering that a few years later, many controversies sprung from said university, which includes the firing of 74 Graduate Teaching Assistants. But, at the same time, because I allowed my imposter syndrome to have its hold on me, I just couldn’t believe someone at an institution like UC Santa Cruz would find me qualified enough to teach there. Deep down, I wasn’t sure of the type of microaggressions that I would face over there as well. Also, I simply didn’t want to deal with the risk of resigning from my other job and then moving to Santa Cruz, only to then get denied re-employment preference over there as well. Already I had doubts about my own potential.
Now, as I’m taking a step back and recollecting my past experiences within academia, it then gives me closure as to why I sometimes still struggle with my anxiety and emotional health. I have managed to accomplish so much as an educator despite the obstacles and distress I faced within the past seven years working in academia. Unfortunately, because of my imposter syndrome, I still doubt my strengths as an educator. I am aware on how in the past, I was not assertive enough with some students. Sometimes I can be too easygoing when it comes to attendance or students who are constantly on their phone during class instruction as I generally “let it slide.” In a way, perhaps the student who left me that RMP review had a point — I can be “too nice.” However, when comparing myself then versus now, I have grown and have learned that it is better to have firm honesty with students rather than being a people-pleaser. The issue I had years ago wasn’t my overt “niceness” but rather my over-dependency on being likable. I wanted to be seen as both the “cool teacher” and the “fun colleague.”
Nevertheless, despite my constant struggle with imposter syndrome, I cannot be too hard on myself. Currently, with the department I now work for, I am surrounded with more individuals who actively try to provide an equitable space for both students and colleagues. It’s not a performance for them — — it’s their reality and many are even willing to do as much as possible in order to be an effective mentor for their students. In a way, it provides some relief for my own mental health and wellbeing. Of course, my own healing journey is still a long ways to go. Yet, as of now, I can confidently say that, I have grown and improved as an educator. I am also gradually getting better at being able to constructively critique myself while simultaneously pushing away my imposter syndrome. I do still have my bad imposter syndrome days. But, for the most part, I am gradually not allowing the microaggressions I had encountered in the past to negatively interfere with my overall well-being.
