Representation without solidarity is a skin-deep change (not anti-racism)
In response to recent social movements around race relations and legacies of oppression, organizations and institutions (including colleges and universities) have worked to devise plans for responsive institutional changes. These institutional strategies inevitably affect the learning experiences of students and thus as educators we must develop the habit of analyzing the impact of said changes.
One of the efforts consistently pursued is the recruitment and hiring of people of color, and folks with other marginalized identities, into roles where they have been historically excluded. The justification is that repair can be two-prong — expanding access to opportunities and counting on newly hired individuals to use their power to create changes inspired by their direct experiences with exclusion.
To be clear — that is a LOT of responsibility, sometimes a responsibility we don’t necessarily ask to take on. Nevertheless, in many cases, marginalized folks placed in leadership positions over the last two years are often charged with bringing about changes that can represent steps towards inclusion and belonging, regardless of whether they are prepared for that work.
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The hard truth is that *Black people can (and do) participate in anti-Black racism, whether knowingly or unknowingly. Therefore, it is critical to move deeper than identity when constructing leadership in our institutions if we are to see anti-racist institutions. Power must not shift solely across axes of identity, but also dimensions in intention.
In order to properly handle the delicate nuance inherent to conversation about institutional change and representation, it is critical to understand that social change, social justice education, and pedagogy of belonging specifically are topic areas that require study to build expertise, beyond life experiences alone. People of privilege and power frequently assume that marginalized people are magically endowed with expertise in such topics which scholars spend their entire lives studying, exploring. There is often an added assumption that marginalization sanctifies our intentions.
This is consistent with the trope of the Magical Negro and actually primarily sets marginalized colleagues up for failure, and disappointment. In real life everyone has complicated histories, understandings and relationships with power. Being impacted by oppression does not inherently make one an expert on that form of oppression, or the many other forms of oppression — it gives us unique insight and perspective, not necessarily scholarly expertise. Scholarly expertise doesn’t always deserve priority over other forms of expertise, we know barriers of access to scholarship, but it should be a consideration. Further, everyone who experiences marginalization is not equally dedicated to changing these circumstances for others.
That being said — in our programs and classrooms, diversifying the identities represented in leadership, especially in a way that addresses past exclusion, is important. And in the process, we must understand the potential risk, harm and impact of granting power to those who are disinterested in progress, student-centered approaches, disability justice and pedagogies of belonging broadly.
That is, what do marginalized students gain from higher ed administrators that look like them but uphold the unbelonging we are working to upend? Specifically, what do Black students gain from Black professors that uphold white supremacy? All-too-often the marginalized people that are enabled to ascend in the academy are the ones willing to accept and reinforce the ills of the environment, and this makes sense considering the historical filters put in place. Academia is not necessarily known for seeking candidates who want to fundamentally change it. But, it is critical to see that this functionally stabilizes systemic power imbalances despite creating opportunities for the few. If hiring committees stop at representation, I worry that people with both the personal proximity to oppression AND the know-how of institutional change will be overlooked, or disregarded, in favor of “safer” choices.
This is not to be confused with arguments against affirmative action, or diversity efforts. To the contrary — this is a plea for both representation AND solidarity. What I mean by solidarity is alignment with and relationship to the very movements and frameworks which have inspired the institutional changes in the first place. This is a plea for both representation AND expertise in system change — for people who have studied and practiced the pedagogy of belonging and related concepts. This is a plea for people who both offer representation AND identify as change agents — because as a Black student with disabilities, I have far too often been negatively impacted by leaders that check the representation box but not the substance one. We need both — representation and substance — and the talent is absolutely there if we are willing to create an environment of support.
Our institutions of higher learning will likely continue to hire and promote people in an effort to correct ills of the past and forms of exclusion that persist today. I hope that our community of educators can understand that these new hires cannot represent actual institutional change if those candidates are not interested in fundamentally changing institutions. Representation without solidarity will change the face of oppression, but not the oppression itself.
*This is true of all people, but for the purposes of this essay I am speaking to the community I belong to in order to be more specific. I Invite you to explore similar realities for folks with other marginalized identities
