The woman behind #decolonizeyoursyllabus
By Justina Gil
Yvette DeChavez is a latinx writer, mental health advocate, educator, and artist from San Antonio, Texas. Before earning a PhD in literature, she worked for the Macondo Foundation, a nonprofit organization that brings together writers committed to social change. She currently lives in Austin. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter @yvettedontlie.
I met Yvette during the junior year of my undergrad. She was the first professor I encountered who was vocal about her exhaustion with academia (a feeling that I strongly related to).
I took a second class with Yvette my senior year — Toni Morrison. That semester was the most challenging of my college experience and Yvette’s class was an oasis in my daily chaos. It was the only time that I ever read ahead of the syllabus; a combination of that safe space and Toni Morrison’s literary genius pushed me ahead.
In that classroom, we had real conversations about issues that mattered to us. Students with all different identities, whether they be racial, cultural, sexual, or gender-oriented, finally had a space in an institution that often overlooked them. On the last day of class, we shared our personal experiences with mental health and seeking therapy. We encouraged those who thought about getting help to take the next step. Most of us cried. I will always remember that experience fondly.
Almost two years later, Yvette has continued to advocate for mental health and BIPOC students and educators. Yvette started the “decolonize your syllabus” movement last fall in response to her experience in higher education. Recently, I had the pleasure of speaking with her about those experiences.
So, what does #decolonizeyoursyllabus really mean?
You might infer the gist of it quickly, but you’ll want to hear Yvette’s backstory behind the movement:
“Academia, like most institutions, has long allowed white men to define the American story. Every year, students take class after class in which white writers dominate the syllabus, and students of color walk away feeling like that’s all that matters, like their voices are unimportant.
So when I finally earned a PhD in literature and had the chance to design my own American lit class, I vowed to decolonize my syllabus.”
Part social movement, part artistic statement (see below), “decolonize your syllabus” picked up traction with students and educators across the nation last Fall. To dive in more, check out Yvette’s LA Times article here.
Once I started teaching classes, I dropped the bullshit and started acting like a real person. I thought that if I was vulnerable about my own experiences, that might help students like myself.
Justina: How did your journey as a phD student lead you to where you are today?
Yvette: I would say that I had a fully miserable experience; I felt like I was in a world where everybody had some idea of how to play the game and I had no idea what I was doing. Although everybody was kind of lost, that feeling compounds depending on the different identities that you have. For me, as a first-generation student, my parents were super supportive but they couldn’t help me figure things out. Meanwhile, I recall students whose parents were professors and could look over the student’s work before turning it in.
There came a turning point when I gained confidence in myself — I realized that I was smart and I came from a perspective that none of the other students could really understand. Once I started teaching classes, I dropped the bullshit and started acting like a real person. I thought that if I was vulnerable about my own experiences, that might help students like myself. And I think that if my professors had been more real with me, I would have understood that I was not alone in it.
J: From what I gather, #decolonizeyoursyllabus started as a personal statement and inadvertently grew into a national movement. How did your peers react? Was there any negative pushback in your department? If so, how did you tackle it?
Y: There has not been a peep from the department. It doesn’t surprise me that the very department that made me feel this way has not responded or even acknowledged that this happened. I gave years of my life to UT (Yvette went to UT for both her undergraduate and graduate degree), and for all of my blood, sweat, and tears it was disappointing that the relationship ended on a tense note. That aside, the response from my colleagues has been overwhelmingly supportive. A handful of old friends from graduate school even invited me to speak at their colleges which has been incredible.
J: I have witnessed you use your platform in the classroom as well as the ‘gram to speak up on your experience as a latinx student and educator. By doing so, you have opened up a space and conversation for students of color and students struggling with mental health. What do you think that has to say for activism in the age of the internet?
Y: Before I started to use social media for advocacy, I was one of those curmudgeonly people who thought that social media was shallow and would never accomplish anything. But when I felt completely isolated in grad school, I found an online community where I could talk to people who were going through similar things but I could never have met in person.
Social media can be scary too; for instance, anything you do on Twitter can spread like wildfire. In large part, #decolonizeyoursyllabus took off thanks to Twitter — which was amazing, but the tide can turn so quickly. One right-wing account with some 20,000 followers retweeted me and it picked up a lot of hate. That really me freaked out because I had never experienced that sort of viral fame. I’ve learned not to read the comments. I think that it’s important to know your limits and set boundaries so you don’t get swallowed up in this virtual world.
“Ultimately, we need to consider whether we are designing college in a way that is biased in favor of white students.”
J: Tell me about the university workshops and talks that you have led across the country. Has this development in your career inspired any future plans or projects?
Y: My talks usually begin with my backstory and what motivated me to write the article. I mainly talk about mixing up the reading list but that’s just a starting point — there is much more work to be done.
We need to actively think about what makes a classroom accessible for everyone. That starts with reevaluating our class policies. I used to have a laptop ban in my classroom, and I now realize that’s ableist because there are people with disabilities that need those laptops. And what about requiring a sick note or for students to print out assignments? It’s elitist to assume that students can afford to go to the doctor or afford to buy printer ink. Ultimately, we need to consider whether we are designing college in a way that is biased in favor of white students.
As a light-skinned Latina, I can navigate these spaces relatively easy. But what about the students who don’t have that privilege? I accepted a job working for the writing center at the Huston-Tillotson University which has set me in a new direction. I want my job to be centered around the students, not the institution, and making the higher up professors happy; I want to make the students happy.
J: Do you agree that higher education is still a white-male dominated space? Do you have any ideas on how to move forward with making higher education a more inclusive and diverse space?
Y: It is so white male that it has become second nature — you don’t even realize how white-male centered it is. Moving forward, we need to hire more BIPOC educators. And what makes that so difficult is everything that I’m saying: yes, we should bring in more BIPOC educators but we have designed a system that does not benefit BIPOC and ensures that they will have a particularly difficult time.
As I say this to you, I’m not going to be teaching because I can’t do it — for my own mental health. If it’s really going to work, then I think it’s a burn it down situation. But the more likely path is that we will have to work with what we have. It’s time for change and BIPOC voices need to be heard. We need to be able to speak up openly and honestly without having fear of whatever repercussion there may be.
J: And lastly I have a more light-hearted question: What is your zodiac sign? Do you feel that you relate to it?
Y: Such a good question. I’m October 22nd so I’m technically a Libra but I’m like a Libra-Scorpio cusp. Scorpio is def the most hated zodiac, right? I’ve only recently come to accept my Scorpio side. I am definitely that cusp though — I am all about fairness and equality and such but damn if I don’t have those Scorpio tendencies.
Explore Yvette’s writing and shop her artwork on her website! Thanks for reading, and follow Fembeat for more content on femmes disrupting the status quo.
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.
