Something that I’ve found interesting is thinking about how common or popular techniques in academia can be applied to anti-racist pedagogy. In particular, I did this a few months ago when I talked about doing anti-racism work the SMART way. More recently, I read James Lang’s book Small Teaching.
While I found the book generally helpful and well-written, I found myself asking how could small teaching contribute to anti-racist pedagogy?
Every instructor, at one point or another, is faced with deciding how to deal with difficult subject matter and moments in the classroom. Ideally, such decisions should be made before anything difficult comes up, but often this is not the case.
For some, dealing with difficult topics and moments – including racism – in the classroom can seem like a Herculean task. Being expected to know when and how to intervene in such situations is a lot of pressure, especially when you’re faced with them for the first time. Plus, it can be emotionally and mentally draining for both you and your students, depending on your positionality in relation to the topic.
So, it should come as no surprise that often, when we’re asked to make changes to the way we teach, we don’t follow through. We are turned off by the idea of some great upheaval in the way we’ve always done things because it seems like such an onerous, time- and energy-consuming task.
I can guarantee that this is one of the driving factors in many instructors’ hesitation to actively reflect and adapt in the face of recent calls for more anti-racist curricula.
If there’s anything you know about me, it’s that I’m always thinking about teaching. It’s a wonder that this entire blog isn’t dedicated to the subject.
But since it’s August (!) and a new school year is suddenly right around the corner (!!) I figured now was the perfect time to share some thoughts about teaching.
Over the last year there have been tons of resources created and shared relating to pedagogy, including this recent workshop organized by the Women’s Classical Caucus. Many of these aimed to remedy the fact that pedagogical training is severely lacking in Classics, and provide support to instructors at all levels and stages in their teaching careers.
What all of these workshops and resources have taught me, at least, is just how much I was missing when I first started teaching. Here are just a few things I wish I’d known way back then.
Expecting ourselves and others to continue working as normal – and sometimes even harder than normal – is not only unrealistic, it’s unsustainable. It’s downright cruel. It’s the definition of toxic productivity.
Who is the work you’re doing for?
Is the work you’re doing (or that you’re asking others to do) really so important that it’s worth sacrificing your mental health and overall wellbeing? (Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka would say no, it isn’t.)
It’s been a little over six months since I published “Yes, Classics is Toxic”, and it seemed only apt that I revisit it now. Somehow, we seem to be in the same place today that we were in December. I wish I could say I was surprised.
Two things come to mind as I sit and think about the current #ClassicsTwitter fiasco: on the one hand, Classics remains toxic. On the other hand, the role of respectability politics in that toxicity.
First, a note on respectability.
According to Wikipedia, respectability politics is made up of three main facets:
Reinforcing a hierarchy to contrast a respectable individual against a shameful other
Encouraging people to defy stereotypes attributed to different aspects of their identity in attempts to present one’s self as respectable
Tailoring one’s behavior to better comply with white, middle-class cultural norms, and consequently reinforce the status quo
In essence, respectability politics concerns who is deserving of respect and what it means to be respectful in particular contexts and within particular groups. Obviously, in this case that context is academia.
The term is most often used in discussions of what one should or shouldn’t wear in ‘professional’ settings – a topic that recently blew up on Twitter. However, this is not my primary concern here. Instead, I want to address power relationships more broadly.
Let’s get more specific and break down this definition a little further.
Reinforcing a hierarchy to contrast a respectable individual against a shameful other
This is manifest in academia in at least four ways, all of which are based in one’s personal ideologies. This can be summed up in the following way: that white, male, straight, and nondisabled individuals are more deserving of respect than those who are not.
In addition to these things, we must also include the power imbalance inherent in the professor-student dichotomy.
It has been demonstrated in the last few months (at least) that Mary Beard adheres to this particular ideology in at least three of the five ways listed above. She regularly uses her position (senior academic, public scholar) and her massive following on social media (nearly 300k) to harm those over whom she believes she has power.
In the latest instances, she has intentionally quote-tweeted a trans student and a student of color, inciting a deluge of harassment that ranges from absurd to downright nasty.
That this has happened more than once and that she has actively sought out and exposed those (with much smaller followings, and who she herself usually does not follow) who criticize her makes it impossible for her to plead innocence or ignorance.
She has knowingly caused harm to precarious and historically excluded groups in our discipline.
She has knowingly contributed to the toxicity of the discipline which she herself has tried to erase.
In her ‘woe is me’ defense – which she has also used on multiple occasions – she flips the script and makes those who criticize her out to be the ‘bad’ ones. Often they are shamed by her followers for their lack of respect – whether this is by tone-policing or by simply chastising them for not showing deference to a scholar of her caliber.
This shouldn’t have to be said (again – I can’t remember who said it first) but being a prolific scholar does not give you a free pass to be a racist or a transphobe. Sorry.
Encouraging people to defy stereotypes attributed to different aspects of their identity in attempt to present one’s self as respectable
For BIPOC studying the ancient world, making it in the discipline is a double-edged sword.
On the one hand, it’s an accomplishment. You’ve done what few others have done before you. You are contributing to changing the appearance of the field, which will in the long run have effects on how many more BIPOC will be attracted to it in the future.
On the other hand, it’s a loss. It’s not a question of whether or not you will lose something of yourself in the process, but when and how much.
How much are you willing to sacrifice in order to ‘make it’ in this field which is growing more toxic by the day? How much are you willing to give in order to help make it better?
For many of us, openly criticizing problematic, senior members of the field is a huge risk. And, as recent events have shown, apparently even subtweeting them is dangerous. For some it’s a risk worth taking, but for others, it just isn’t.
It might seem heroic for white allies to speak on behalf of their BIPOC colleagues, but this can also perpetuate harmful stereotypes and hierarchies in the field. It’s true that some people will only listen to the complaints of those who look like them, but what that does is contribute to the idea that the only legitimate critiques come from white (male, tenured, etc) individuals.
Rather than trying to give a ‘voice to the voiceless’ in every instance, step aside and give BIPOC the mic. Insist that they should be listened to and amplify their stories. Legitimize their narratives and opinions, rather than contribute to the idea that they are too ‘emotional’ or ‘aggressive’ or ‘passionate’ to be taken seriously.
Tailoring one’s behavior to better comply with white, middle-class cultural norms, and consequently reinforce the status quo
What the long history of tone policing and respectability politics more broadly in academia has done is tried (and often succeeded) in putting individuals from historically excluded groups ‘in their place’ (in the hierarchy).
We have to learn to ‘fit in’ in order to survive in a field built on white cultural norms and ideals, and often this means playing nice and not rocking the boat, even at the expense of our own safety and mental health.
When we do have the courage to voice our opinions – well, as we have seen, it doesn’t always end well.
God forbid someone lodge a valid criticism of another scholar in our field. Criticism and civility are not mutually exclusive.
I used to think that this was the only way anything in this field would change. Forcing people to confront their problematic assumptions and behaviors, I thought, would set them on a path toward changing their tune and that this would have a domino effect.
But Mary Beard and her supporters have really shown that there are enormous roadblocks in this path. The most glaring one is a lack of accountability and consequences.
How many instances of harm is it going to take for people like her to finally be deplatformed?
Clearly, more gentle routes – like having an honest conversation about those harms – do not work for everyone. This is especially true when it comes to folks who refuse to see what they are doing for what it really is, and instead take to playing the victim time and time again.
We aren’t kids on a playground. Stop accusing precarious ECRs of bullying you when the facts are all there. It’s despicable, and frankly it’s getting old.
I recently saw a Tweet that emphasized the true purpose of anti-racism work: repair, restoration, and sacrifice where necessary.
Despite what a lot of folks seem to think, anti-racism is not about kindness and it's not about embracing all races. Anti-racism is about repair, restoration, and sacrifice where it's necessary. It's about meaningful action, not about feelings and words.
The third element – sacrifice – particularly struck me, especially as I was trying to think of what this week’s blog post would be about. It put the ongoing debates about the vitality of the field of Classics into a new perspective.
Those who have argued for ‘burning it all down’ know what it would mean to make sacrifices for the betterment of the discipline; those who oppose and criticize the idea of reforming Classics are simply afraid of a little discomfort. They would rather see a discipline rife with problems continue to thrive than sacrifice some things in order to at least begin to solve those problems.
This makes me think of Reni Eddo-Lodge’s concept of ‘fear of a black planet’ — the fear that by giving black people any power at all, the cultural hierarchy would be inverted and white people would be completely powerless and oppressed. (A similar concern was raised about the term ‘intersectionality‘. Do I sense a theme?)
What would the equivalent be for Classics? Fear of a BIPOC discipline?
I’d like to say that this is only characteristic of the old, white, tenured contingency of the discipline, but that just isn’t the case. We all need to make sacrifices, some much bigger than others, if we want to make progress in making Classics an anti-racist discipline.
This morning I participated in a plenary session for a workshop on anti-racist and decolonial curricula in archaeology hosted by the Columbia Center for Archaeology. In my talk, I framed the topic of anti-racist curricula in terms of mentorship, and the ways in which good mentorship could help alleviate the pressures placed on first-gen, marginalized, and underrepresented students in Classical Studies and archaeology by the hidden curriculum.
The Hidden Curriculum
The hidden curriculum is a set of skills or norms that individuals are expected to know, particularly in academia, without being formally taught them.
On this blog, I have taken a particular interest in the hidden curriculum, and have made several blog posts illuminating different aspects of it.
Skills and norms which are part of the hidden curriculum include:
What to wear and how to act when attending a conference
How to interview for a (usually academic) job
These range from seemingly simple skills to more complex ones. However, our assumptions about individuals’ knowledge of these skills and norms disproportionately harm students from marginalized backgrounds. These students feel they must put in twice the work to keep up with their peers.
Here are some ways that we can better support students throughout their academic careers.
It should be unsurprising to anyone who knows me when I say that fieldwork plays a big role in my success as an academic. This is because I’m an archaeologist who specializes in ancient Greece. My fieldwork requires me to travel abroad for several weeks to months at a time each year, usually in the summer.
I am very sad that I haven’t gone to Greece in nearly two years. The reluctance of some of my colleagues to cancel field projects and research trips in light of the ever-changing COVID situation has also been surprising.
I get it, I do. The last year was a total setback for many archaeological projects, including my own. My dissertation has taken a new path thanks to the fact that I couldn’t do fieldwork last summer, despite my best laid plans.
But is getting that dissertation done or that excavation going more important than the lives of the people who live in your destination country?
The answer should be simple: no, it’s not.
The challenges to admitting this are many. It’s no secret that many programs and departments have grappled with how to deal with funding and time to degree for those of us whose research got derailed by the pandemic.
Some places, such as at Michigan, have found ways to support students needing extra time to finish, which lessens the burden on students scrambling to secure support elsewhere. However, I know this isn’t the case everywhere.
The hidden curriculum includes a set of things we’re expected to know how to do, from attending a conference for the first time to applying for funding to going on the job market, without actually being taught them. In keeping with the applications theme, this new addition to the series is on the personal statement.
Thanks to everyone on Instagram who helped with the decision!
A note on the personal statement
This post is about writing personal statements for funding applications, not grad school applications. I realize that there also exist “statements of purpose,” which are sometimes asked for in addition to a personal statement.
Image credit: GREedge (greedge.com)
In the case of funding applications, “personal statement” and “statement of purpose” are often used interchangeably.
Take for example these two funding opportunities from my university:
#1: The statement of purpose must be single-spaced, 12pt font, and three pages maximum including any bibliography, citations, project timetable, graphics, etc. These should be written in language for non-specialists, should describe the proposed research project and discuss its rationale, objectives, design, timetable, feasibility, and methodology, as well as the projected benefits of this trip. If the applicant will be working with an established research project, a description of the organization and the activities in which he/she will be engaged must be included. Applicants should also discuss any language skills needed to conduct the proposed research.
#2: Students’ personal statement…should address the importance of the student’s work in the beginning two or three sentences. The statement should include the theoretical framework of the dissertation, its specific aims, methodologies (how the student is conducting the research), originality, and the significance and contribution of the project to the field…The statement should be written with an interdisciplinary faculty review panel in mind; i.e., reviewers will NOT necessarily be familiar with the technical vocabulary of a specific field.
The purposes of the funding opportunities are slightly different. One specifically supports international research and the other supports work on the dissertation (writing and/or research) more broadly, with an eye toward completion.
However, the requirements for the statements are roughly the same.
If you’re unsure of what to include in a statement, funding institutions usually spell out what sort of information they’re looking for in a personal statement/statement of purpose.
This morning on Instagram I shared a message of solidarity with the AAPI community on this day and all days, and I condemned the increasing instances of violence that they have had to endure since the pandemic began. In particular, my heart goes out to all of my AAPI friends and colleagues in light of the racist, misogynistic, and sexist murder of 6 Asian women in Atlanta.
Since sharing this post, I have come across innumerable resources, mutual aid funds, and action points that I thought might be worth collecting in a single place.
As in the case of anti-Black racism, raising awareness shouldn’t be the only thing that you do in response to anti-Asian violence fueled not only by racism, but also by misogyny and sexism. It’s only the first step. Our friends and colleagues need us to stand with them and show up for them.
Here are some ways you can do this.
Resources to share with your AAPI friends and colleagues:
Support Georgia’s Asian American Community (donations go towards helping the victims and their families impacted by the violent acts that occurred on March 16, 2021; AAAJ-Atlanta)
Red Canary Song (a grassroots collective of Asian and migrant sex workers, organizing transnationally)
Hate Is A Virus is thrilled to announce the commUNITY Action Fund, our efforts to raise $1 MILLION to give back to local & national community organizations that are providing pivotal services and programs for our community. pic.twitter.com/iQ4pCyLs2V
This list is obviously not exhaustive, but I hope it can be a place to start for those who want to actively support our AAPI friends, colleagues, and communities.
I bet we’ve all heard at least once in the past year that “your worth isn’t tied to your productivity.” The idea is that you shouldn’t let your work consume you to the point of burnout, which negatively affects all aspects of your health.
Burnout is a state of emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion caused by excessive and prolonged stress. It occurs when you feel overwhelmed, emotionally drained, and unable to meet constant demands.
It’s easy to say that “your worth isn’t tied to your productivity,” but much, much harder to put that idea into practice.
This is especially true when we’re inundated daily with posts on social media that make us feel like we aren’t doing enough, even when we feel good about the (quality and quantity of) work we’re doing.
