Education Saved My Life: A Reflection of the Affirmative Action Ruling on Invisible Women

A Revolving Door of Salutations

For those working in the field of higher education, the months between commencement and the start of Fall semester are like getting stuck in a revolving door of salutations.?With one hand, we salute and wave goodbye to our seniors; with the other we beckon and embrace those whom we hope will become the students of the incoming class.?With proud smiles and tears of joy (and relief!) faculty and administrators push newly-tasseled grads out of the halls of the academy and into their future as leaders.?At the same time, we open our figurative arms and hearts to welcome the next wave of students and families into those same halls. We do so with the hope and anticipation that their four years will be filled with achievements comparable to their predecessors.

This “push-pull” dichotomy is both exhilarating and exhausting as both types of engagement occur within weeks of one another. Such was the case a few weeks ago when our University hosted a series of pre-registration sessions for the incoming class. Over the course of two weeks, I found myself looking out at a sea of fresh-faced, chatty and energetic young people. I was mindful that many of these students have spent the entirety, if not at least three years of their high school experience in online classes often filled with black squares and white text. Often faceless,yet named. Aside from this notable difference, in many ways, this was not unlike the other registration events in which I’ve been involved. The expressions were as I remembered – ranging from excited and boisterous to tentative and feigned boredom.?The atmosphere in the auditorium was as I recalled in summers past – an air of giddy nervousness tinged with a hint of confident posturing. All of these things were as I remembered.?Except one.?For the first time since I’ve been part of the registration process at my University, a large portion of the faces in the audience looked like me.?Young Black women embraced their natural hair or, like me wore the popular goddess/boho braids – many of them in ombre shades like mine.?The young Black men were not unlike my own nephew with their mid- to high-tapered fros and sporting tee-shirts emblazoned with references to anime or athletics. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

From Revolving Doors to a Gated Community?

Perhaps my favorite moment of each session happened when my co-presenter, the Dean of the College and I shared our educational background and accomplishments as part of discussion on the value of a liberal arts education. After I shared my love for learning and how it has manifested in multiple degrees, the students – both Black and non-Black cheered.?But, it was the enthusiastic shout-out from one young Black woman that sticks with me.?Seated in the fifth row, she cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “Okay!?I see you – slay!”?I later came to understand that this expression is the equivalent of my generation’s popular accolade, “you go girl!” It was in that moment that I realized that they were not only celebrating my academic success, they were seeing the possibility for their own achievement.?They may not have known it, but I saw myself in them as much as they saw themselves in me. I was once one of the four percent of minority students in my undergraduate class. My alma mater, like my current University is now ten times as diverse as it was in the late 90’s.

Weeks later, these were the faces and memories that came to mind when I learned of the Supreme Court’s decision to strike down affirmative action – a move that effectively reduces the likelihood that future incoming classes entering predominantly White institutions (PWIs) would look as diverse as the students I’d just met.?Questions swirled in my mind, toppling over one another in a desperate attempt to make sense of what I was reading.?What does this decision mean for these students??What does it mean for their younger siblings??Would this change in access mean that the revolving door phenomenon would be replaced by an encrypted keypad in a gated community where only certain residents could enter and exit?

?“Education saved my life!”

My next thought was of the many Black and brown people who work in these institutions as faculty, administrators and staff – many of whom chose to work in what are often hostile environments ripe with micro/macroaggressions, increased scrutiny, and recurring and mentally exhausting requests to prove their competence (Rayfield, 2022). ?Black women administrators attribute their decision to work in these conditions to their own experience as undergrads. They know how it feels to be treated as if they don’t belong.?They remember the times they were called upon by non-Black peers and faculty to provide the so-called Black perspective during a class discussion or chance hallway encounter. And, much like the young people I met during registration, they understand the weight of hope that they carry as being the first or only of their family to go to college.

No one embodies this more than one of my study’s participants. Her pseudonym in my phenomenological study was “Ketanji” in honor of our nation’s first Black female Supreme Court Justice. Much like her real-world namesake, the Ketanji in my study was a self-described staunch advocate for social justice, equity and equality.?As a professional in the career services arena, Ketanji is uniquely positioned to prepare students for life after college and although the scope of her role does not require it, she often goes above and beyond to provide extraordinary care and support for her marginalized students.

This “DEI champion” who “hates to hear that no one said anything, no one did anything or advocated for [minority students] in any way” defied the odds in many ways (Rayfield, 2022 p.94).?She grew up in a family setting where addiction was rampant and she saw first-hand how it destroyed the dreams of many of her relatives.?Attaining an education served as a means of escape from her environment.?She went on to obtain a graduate degree and in true advocate form, she is preparing to go to law school.?In her own words, “education saved my life!” And now, she’s saving the lives of others like her.

“…I’ll be damned if my students don’t feel safe…”

Ketanji’s story illustrates the importance and reality of Black women in the academy. As a result of their own personal and professional experience, they have a deep desire to “help students that look like them” through mentoring relationships, advocacy and “othermothering” activities (Rayfield, 2022). ?Black women act as role models for their Black faculty, staff and students and are instrumental in providing identity-based safe spaces for underrepresented students. Finally, as people with intersected identities, these women serve as a surrogate parent or, “othermother” to Black students to both expand their professional network and empower them to successfully navigate the hostile world (Collins, 2022 as cited in Rayfield, 2022).

In the role of “othermothers,” Black women contribute to the psychological safety of students by becoming a village or safe space for them.?During our interview, Ketanji recalled one student who dropped out at the height of the pandemic, with whom she remained in continual contact despite the student being unenrolled at the time.?Ketanji checked in regularly with the student, offered her encouragement to continue her studies and, above all, ensured that the student felt mentally prepared to return to school. Of her dogged persistence, Ketanji proclaimed, “[As a Black woman in a PWI] I don't feel safe myself, but I'll be damned if the students don't feel safe. It can't happen…” (Rayfield, 2022 p. 116).

And, yet this is happening. ?As educators, leaders and othermothers it is incumbent upon us to do whatever we can to ensure that future minority students have the same opportunities afforded to them as we had afforded to us.?We know that a diversity of voices in a classroom leads to improved outcomes, greater creativity and a more impactful learning experience. Our students need to know that they belong in any and all of our institutions and that they deserve access to every benefit available to them. There are future judges, teachers, mechanics, writers, historians, biologists, social workers, doctors and administrators waiting for their moment to be cheered by the crowd for their unique contribution to the world. Denying them that honor is a supreme miscarriage of justice.?And, we can’t let it happen.

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Rayfield, N. G. (2022).?Are Invisible Women Doing Invisible Work? A Phenomenological Study of Black Women Higher Education Leaders in Predominantly White Institutions?(Order No. 30426864). Available from Dissertations & Theses @ Eastern University; ProQuest Dissertations & Theses Global: The Humanities and Social Sciences Collection. (2824585979). https://www.proquest.com/dissertations-theses/are-invisible-women-doing-work-phenomenological/docview/2824585979/se-2

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