Why Do None of My Professors Look Like Me?
In 2009, 308 years after Yale was founded, Dr. Ned Blackhawk became the first tenured Native American professor at Yale College in the Department of History and American Studies. Since being at Yale, Professor Blackhawk has taught numerous classes including Introduction to American Indian History and Writing Tribal Histories, two of the few Native Studies classes that have been consistently offered over the years. He helped establish the Native American Language Program, which lets Native students take their Native languages — from Choctaw to Lakota — through online classes. He has seen the opening of the Native American Cultural Center in 2013, which provided a space on campus for the ever-growing Native community at Yale. 10 years after joining Yale, however, Professor Blackhawk remains the University’s only tenured Native professor.
To be the only Native American in the room has been a common theme in my life. To feel like I must represent all Native Americans. To feel like if I make one mistake, this is reflective of my entire tribe. This is a debilitating feeling. I can’t help but wonder how these feelings would intensify if I was the only tenured Native professor at a university. What does it mean to be the only Native your university thinks is doing work worthy of Yale tenure? How does it feel when you’re often the only Native voice in faculty meetings? Further, how does it feel to know that the Native students you teach have only one tenured Native professor at their university?
Since coming to Yale, I have decided I want to be a professor. I want to study and teach Native American Literature. But more than that, I want to mentor and teach other Native students that find themselves in institutions of higher education like Yale. I’ve come to this decision after thinking about my experiences within the Native community at Yale, specifically, with Professor Blackhawk. He was the first Native American professor I had ever met. It is through his work that I get to engage with so many other Native schools of thought. I’ve seen the impact that he’s made within the Native community at Yale, as we flock to him to learn about parts of our histories. We go to him as a mentor, asking him for advice on how to survive at Yale as Native students. But more than that, we go to him as a friend — he can be found at community celebrations, including our fall retreat, our holiday party, and our graduation celebration, each with his family in tow.
Yet, as I continue on my path towards becoming a professor, it becomes more clear to me that Yale is clearly not interested in preparing me for this role. Every day my education feels like a gamble. I am constantly questioning whether or not enough courses in Native Studies will be offered in order for me to meet my degree requirements, and for me to feel adequately prepared to study this subject in graduate school. For example, after Indigenous Feminisms was last offered in 2016, it wasn’t offered again until the spring of 2019, and only because the Dean of the Native American Cultural Center, Kelly Fayard, volunteered to teach it — without compensation. After this semester, Fayard is leaving. What happens after that? Do we just wait until someone comes along and volunteers to teach it again?
Even when visiting professors teach courses in Native Studies, they are here for a year, and then they leave. How can student-faculty relations be built if Native Studies are constantly in a state of rotation? What happens to students’ piqued research interests when these visiting professors leave?
One professor simply cannot cover all that Native Studies encompass. To ask Professor Blackhawk to cover Native American history, Contemporary Native Studies, Native American Literature, Native American Law, and more is impossible. For Yale to rely on the labor of unpaid Native faculty and the revolving door of visiting professors to cover these gaps is unsustainable. To make students go without these topics takes away from our education in Ethnicity, Race, and Migration. To make Native students go without this field takes away from our identity.
Yale has a rapidly growing Native student body, of which Yale isn’t shying away to advertise in diversity brochures. So why does Yale shy away from committing the space that Native Studies needs in this institution? If Yale truly had any interest in creating a robust Native Studies program its 29.4 billion dollar endowment would have done so already. Perhaps Yale forgets that this endowment began with resources stolen from Native people. Perhaps Yale forgets that its foundation lies on the stolen land of the Quinnipiac people.
We need more tenured and tenure-track Native professors. We need classes that aren’t going to be offered for one year and then disappear. Simply put, we need the foundation that was stolen from us to create this university. We need Yale to commit to this. We’re waiting.
Until then: no, I won’t smile for your brochure photo.
