Rudisang Motshubi, Doctoral Candidate at Iowa State University
Dear U.S. Higher Education Stakeholders,
Like many aspiring scholars who wish to impact the U.S. higher education landscape positively, I am uncertain what being a higher education scholar entails. I have chosen to be daring and take a more vulnerable route in this blog post to provide a more authentic picture of where potential emerging scholars may be and show that we are not alone; I see you. It is okay not to know what you are doing and whether or not you are doing the right thing. Not knowing is part of becoming a higher educational scholar; the journey and process will eventually get you where you want to go and—more importantly—where you are supposed to be.
Reading the prior post about socialization reminded me clearly how being socialized into higher education involves knowing what you are doing. Let me explain. In some educational spaces, this idea of purpose is often described as your why in higher education, as well as other questions like what brings you to this work, why it matters, and why hiring committees or individuals should hire you or support your work. However, to answer these crucial questions, we, as emerging scholars, need to know or understand what we are doing and what led us here. As a scholar with multiple overlapping marginalized identities, these questions have a different meaning for me. Specifically, I need to ask and explore some of these questions because no one else has or will.
Being socialized in higher education involves knowing where you fit in higher education related to faculty hiring processes (O’Meara et al., 2020; Reece et al., 2019; White-Lewis, 2020). Multiple aspects of fit determine whether you do fit, but one that does not always come up is the amount of power you have as an individual in that setting. Does your identity allow you access to resources? Does your identity make it difficult for your voice to be heard? Does your identity prevent you from feeling like you fit? I bring up these questions because they determine to what extent scholars or practitioners feel like they belong in an educational environment and how much power they feel they have in those settings.
Additionally, suppose I, as an emerging scholar, feel like I belong in an educational setting. In that case, there is a higher possibility that I will be more confident in what I am doing because I feel I am where I am supposed to be. Belonging to an educational space also creates a sense of stability or security that our thoughts or ideas will not be stifled because those thoughts or expressions are allowed.
You may wonder why I am talking about abilities, power, and fit. Higher education is a beautiful place where—once we find out where we belong—we as scholars can feel empowered, happy, positively challenged, and—for the first time in our lives—at home and in peace. However, for some with marginalized identities, higher education is where we feel like we have no power, voice, or agency, which causes us to question if we know what we are doing. Confidence in what you are doing is a lot easier when you do not have invisible and visible forces fighting against your existence.
For students, faculty, and staff with marginalized identities, being socialized into higher education can be a taxing process that I do not wish upon anyone. For example, small things like attending academic conferences regularly, staying in a clean and safe hotel, wearing enough professional clothing, and attending networking or social events require specific forms of capital (Hallmark, 2019). For students from backgrounds where finances are a sensitive subject or not available, the traditional reimbursement models universities and colleges use do not recognize these students’ precarious realities. An additional nuance for students with financial barriers—specifically foreign scholars and students—face obstacles when they have limited resources or abilities for funding due to their nationality or immigration status. These financial barriers only hinder the academic and career development and advancement of our foreign scholars, students, and peers.
Access to higher education institutional spaces will always be difficult for students, faculty, and staff with marginalized identities. It isn’t easy because we are constantly entering spaces—for the most part—where we are not the majority. When you are not the majority in a space, it is natural to question whether you belong because you do not see people who look like you. You then sometimes question whether you know what you are doing because no one else looks like you, talks like you, and, even worse, thinks like you. These thoughts are not new, but I would like to provide a unique example to highlight these nuances further.
International Students of Color often face multiple barriers to U.S. higher education. No matter whether they go on to a college or university, International Students of Color are always few; there are rarely other students with similar backgrounds to them. International Students of Color may see other people who look like them but are not like them. For example, not all Black students have the same experiences as other Black students. Similarly, not all Asian students have the same experiences as their Asian peers. Even if two Black students are in the same residential hall, academic space, or event, their similar racial identity does not guarantee that they will get along or like each other just because they are the only People of Color in a space. Then there is also the challenge of understanding what it is like to be Black, Asian, Latin American, or Hispanic when you might identify more with your nationality, ethnicity, or tribe. This identity tension can sometimes contribute to foreign Students of Color questioning whether they belong on a university or college campus, even if they have gained access to that space through admission.
Why do issues of power, fit, and the racial experiences of international students matter? They help people with power in educational institutions to answer all-important questions: Do our marginalized students feel like they belong on campus? Do they feel like they belong here? Do they feel they have the power to change things if they voice their concerns? Do they have a support system of college-going peers, faculty, and staff to rely on for emotional, academic, and social support? Can our institution answer these questions fully with an emphatic yes? If not, what are we going to do about it?
Yours sincerely,
An uncertain higher educational scholar
References
Hallmark, T. (2019). Success comes at a price. Diverse: Issues in Higher Education. https://www.diverseeducation.com/students/article/15104282/success-comes-at-a-price
O’Meara, K., Culpepper, D., & Templeton, L. L. (2020). Nudging toward diversity: Applying behavioral design to faculty hiring. Review of Educational Research, 90(3), 311-348.
Reece, B. J., Tran, V. T., DeVore, E. N., & Porcaro, G. (Eds.). (2019). Debunking the myth of job fit in higher education and student affairs. Stylus.
White-Lewis, D. K. (2020). The facade of fit in faculty search processes. The Journal of Higher Education, 91(6), 833-857.
About the Author
Rudisang Motshubi is a doctoral candidate in the School of Education at Iowa State University. His research interests are focused on the experiences of underrepresented students in STEM education and exploring international student’s collegiate lives in U.S. higher education.
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