A call for the redefinition of academia
By Justina Gil
“For many students who are first-generation, struggling with poverty, or grappling with their gender and/or sexual identities, it is integral that they see people like themselves at the head of the classroom as well as in their curriculum.”
My undergraduate experience at UT was simultaneously valuable for personal growth, yet the most emotionally draining period of my life. I constantly felt out of place — as if I had manifested into another version of myself that I didn’t really want to be. My student self was like me, but not really me. She was interested in the subject matter of her classes, but something felt off. While most students seemed to thrive in the university environment, I had to contort my self to fit in with the rigid expectations of university coursework.
I was constantly torn between feeling thankful for the privilege of my education and feeling an intense anger towards that institution — an institution that pushed a culture of elitist academic jargon and formalities down our throats.
If my own mental health was a sinking ship, what about that of the students with less privileges?
As I reflect on my personal experience and my conversation with Yvette, I find myself questioning why we conceptualize education as a feminine discipline despite the fact that education remains dominated by white men. Moreover, as we place increasingly high pressure on our youth to go to college, how can we make universities a more accessible space? And how can we be mindful of which types of education we consider valuable?
From our early childhood to our burgeoning adult years, we spend a larger part of our time in the classroom. And for many of us, our teachers help shape who we are and what we stand for.
Even though women dominate the education workforce, they continue to earn less than men. Studies also confirm that our top universities lack a diverse faculty. How are the women and femmes who help raise our youth seen as less distinguished than their male counterparts?
The stereotypes are all too familiar: ‘Women make good teachers, nurses, and social workers. Men are just better engineers, doctors, politicians, etc.’
However, it’s not a matter of “feminine” jobs versus “masculine” jobs. And it’s no mistake that male-dominated fields are more prestigious than femme-dominated fields. Or that men still have higher pay and prestige in fields dominated by femmes. These stereotypes, in part, lead back to misogynistic beliefs and practices that influenced the introduction of women to the American workforce.
“The newfound autonomy that teaching provided was undercut by the men who sat on school boards making decisions for how and what women could teach.”
At the dawn of the American education system, most school teachers were white men. However, many men saw teaching as a stepping stone to “more prestigious” careers. The best teachers moved on to other jobs, leaving schools understaffed and undertrained. Beginning in the 1840s, in reaction to these high turnover rates, women were ushered onto the scene.
The gender pay gap is rooted in the creation of an intentionally misogynistic education system.
Women were seen as the ideal solution to high turnover rates because they were:
Maternal…
Nurturing….
and could be paid a fraction of their male counterparts.
This set up a clear power dynamic: regardless of their performance, a woman was worth less than any of her male counterparts; with limited financial and occupational opportunity, women accepted low wages.
Despite working within a system riddled with sexist and racist caveats, teaching was a positive development for women at the time. The newfound autonomy that teaching provided was undercut by the men who sat on school boards making decisions for how and what women could teach (sound familiar?). The persistence of gender separated schooling exacerbated the delegitimization of a woman’s authority in the workplace.
“It was with that first class that I became aware that a teacher was subservient to a higher authority. I became increasingly aware of this subservience to an ever growing number of authorities with each succeeding year, until there is danger today of becoming aware of little else.” — Marian Dogherty, Teacher, Boston, 1899
By the early 1900s, women dominated the teaching profession and they demanded more. Through unionization, they pushed for higher wages, benefits, and job security. Today, women have made massive strides in gaining autonomy and prestige in the workplace. The wage gap has narrowed, yet it continues to exist as a legacy of the historical devaluation of a woman’s labor.
Speaking in broad strokes, the pay gap between women and men has shrunk. However, broad strokes leave disadvantaged communities out of the conversation; we must remember that queer women and women of color (WOC) started off with setbacks far more severe than their white/ cis/ straight counterparts.
At the point in time when white women entered the workforce, black women were still enslaved. Even after their emancipation, other forms of legalized racism thrived. This gave white women a staggering lead ahead of WOC who had an even steeper battle ahead for basic human rights.
Old practices lead to modern, emerging problems.
So, where do WOC and queer women fall into our expanding education system today? The 21st century has seen a rise in the socio-cultural importance of higher education. Those from disadvantaged communities (students and faculty alike) who start on unequal playing ground in primary and secondary school find themselves even further behind in our universities.
Uncoincidentally, the majority of university faculty are overwhelmingly white and male. For many students who are first-generation, struggling with poverty, or grappling with their gender and/or sexual identities, it is integral that they see people like themselves at the head of the classroom as well as in their curriculum.
Today, we need to push for diversity in our faculties and on our education boards.
Students across the U.S. today are fighting for diversity and inclusivity within our schools. We must listen to, and amplify their voices. We must question the very core of an education system which was built by, and to serve the purposes of white men.
We must consider how we can make “higher” knowledge accessible to disadvantaged communities. One solution would be to strengthen paths to informal education where “higher” knowledge is easily accessible to those who cannot afford to attend college, and such knowledge is written in accessible language.
A reflection upon the origins of our education system helps to explain for the lack of inclusivity and diversity in our universities today. We must identify and reform structures that alienate POC students. And in order to achieve this vision of inclusivity, we must continue to educate ourselves and start meaningful conversations both inside and outside of the classroom.
Justina Gil is a latinx writer, creative, and activist based out of Austin, TX. She is the administrative director of LETS Texas, a community organization dedicated to the empowerment of incarcerated youth. When she isn’t writing for Fembeat, she is probably with her cat, eating tacos, or thrifting for her vintage shop. You can find her on Instagram @yungplantmami.
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