They Don’t Really Care About Us: Higher Ed for People of Color

Written 12/06/2020

They Don’t Really Care About Us: Higher Ed for People of Color

Over 24 years ago, Michael Jackson (may he R.I.P) released “All I wanna say is that they don’t really care about us,” sharing his exhaustion and frustration of being othered due to his race. As a positive youth development practitioner in higher education and a woman of color, Michael Jackson’s song still resonates with me and others today. 2020 has been hyper-focused on how COVID-19 ruined our everyday lives. Complaints about trip cancellations and the inability to access our friends and family have made living unbearable. And to add pandemonium to the pandemic, we continue experiencing genocide of our Black community in the United States, which has provoked riots and protests worldwide. Amid the chaos, colleges and universities continue requiring and expecting professionals to work as usual, meanwhile questioning the consistent decline in enrollment, retention, and performance of students of color.

Recently, I completed my first quarter as a Doctoral student and adjunct faculty member. The university I attend and work for is in Chicago and primarily serves Black and Latinx students. Being on both ends of the desk this term, especially during an influx of civil unrest, made me realize how meritocracy has made me and others feel like they don’t care about us- people of color (POC).

Will there ever be a point where the socially elite learn how to empathize with the traditionally marginalized?

In February, I thought that maybe having a worldwide pandemic forcing everyone to slow down might pull at some heartstrings. But I guess self-reflection is something that requires a want and doesn’t happen naturally.

When the pandemic first started, the country experienced a shortage of toilet paper, hand soap, and hand sanitizer. Almost a year later, there are two types of families. One is on the hunt for office supplies and completing DIY projects to have the perfect remote learning space. The other is scraping up change, wondering how they will feed their family. Although the gap in privileges has existed for centuries, it has become even more apparent today in the higher ed field.

Imagine being a full-time student and working thirty plus hours a week to maintain bare living essentials (i.e., food, water, shelter) because your parents lost their jobs due to COVID; or having no other choice but to move back in with your toxic family because you lost your job. For those of you with younger siblings, imagine having to log in for your first year of college and having to help your siblings with their e-learning at the same time. All the scenarios mentioned above are a reality to many of my students now.

According to Wolfson and Leung (2020), food insecurity has increased recently due to the COVID-19 pandemic, specifically within low-income groups and communities of color. For purposes of their research, they defined food insecurity as "limited or uncertain access to sufficient, nutritious food for an active, healthy life" (p. 1763). Wolfson and Leung (2020) also share that although our federal government increased some benefits (i.e., SNAP), these increases are focused on monetary amounts for communities that already had the benefits. In other words, the government offered more money to people who already had the benefits but did not change their eligibility standards to be more inclusive. They also add that the increased services will soon expire, keeping these historically disenfranchised communities to fend for themselves. I don’t know about you, but I can’t focus when I’m hungry.

Meanwhile, educators and administrators continue expecting full engagement and production from students. Being on both ends of the desk this quarter made me wonder if higher education will ever be an accessible public good for the traditionally disenfranchised. As covered in Wilder’s (2013) works, and Cohen & Kisker (2010), the higher education system was first created to preserve the upper class. Later, the system was transformed into a “public good” but was accessible mainly to White men.

Considering that colleges and universities across the country are racking their brains to enroll and retain students of color, isn’t it about time that this public good is made accessible to them?

Accessibility refers to enrollment, retention, and graduation. So when I say accessibility, I am also talking about cultural relevance in curriculum, unedited history, and reciprocated respect. Students should read a math problem and be able to envision themselves in it. The first quarter of their Doctoral program should not be the first time they learn about Thomas Jefferson and George Washington being slave owners. And if they can’t have their camera on during class because they are listening to your lecture while they are at work, that should be okay.

To my higher education professionals, if we really care about our students of color, what does that look like in practice?

And how long are we going to continue trying to use traditional educational practices for nontraditional students during untraditional times?

References

Cohen, A.M., & Kisker, C. B. (2010). The shaping of American higher education: emergence and growth of the contemporary system. Jossey-Bass.

Wilder, C.S. (2014). Ebony & ivy: race, slavery, and the troubled history of America's universities. Bloomsbury Press.

Wolfson, J. A., & Leung, C. W. (2020). Food Insecurity During COVID-19: An Acute Crisis With Long-Term Health Implications. American Journal of Public Health, 110(12), 1763–1765. https://doi.org/10.2105/ajph.2020.305953