What lies beneath…

I spent the last week after the elections, and while awaiting the outcomes, in deep reflection.

The recent U.S. elections, including for President, left me holding a multitude of complex responses and emotions.

Triumph and tragedy…

Thoughts about identity and humanity…

Reflections on surface appearances and what lies beneath…

Election day made some things incredibly clear to me, we have much to be concerned about. The vast number of votes for a candidate who has been boldly self-centered and “other hating” fell squarely in the category of “disappointed but not surprised” for me.

I’ve been in this “destination” many times before (documented above in 2017), and multiple times in this year of 2020 alone!

As we’ve watched the needless suffering and deaths of so many Americans (rapidly approaching 240,000 and tragically still increasing as of November 9, 2020) from COVID-19 due to a lack of discipline, severe leadership deficit, and a lack of shared commitment to prioritize the collective over the individual.

I’ve also arrived at the unwanted “surprised but not disappointed” destination in my area of work in higher education. Countless individuals pledged to “do better” in the summer as they participated in #ShutDownAcademia #ShutDownSTEM in June 2010. In most cases, we still await substantial and visible outcomes, as well as committed paths to long-term change, associated with those pledges.

So in the past days as it became clear that so many Americans—approaching 71 million at the time of writing this post—made their way or sent their ballot to the polls in support of all that the outgoing President represented (indeed represents about the state of relations in the U.S.), I was literally stopped in my tracks momentarily and confronted with continuing truths about this country.

Because I can hold and process multitudes, I refused to go on without stopping to acknowledge and to appropriately celebrate that slightly more Americans voted for the Biden/Harris ticket and, thus, it appears that we will resume some “normalcy” to our U.S. politics. However, I also fully held, and continue to hold, the simultaneous truth that “normalcy” isn’t all it should, can, or in my hopeful days, will be for some of us—too many of us who have been marginalized, minoritized, and traumatized, even before these last 4 years.

So as I discussed in a recent talk for #BlackInMicro Week, for many who are marginalized in this country, we too frequently meet triumph and tragedy simultaneously. For me most recently this has meant celebrating my son’s graduation from high school in the large shadow of the murder of George Floyd, officially starting a new professional role nearly simultaneously with the tragedy of injustice related to Breonna Taylor’s murder, and now welcoming the news of a change in the presidential office, together with the historic nature of Kamala Harris’s vice presidency, in the face of the reality of that ~71 million votes.

That VAST numbers of supporters for the lunacy, traumatization, and so much worse that so many have faced for the past four years was something that I processed quietly, yet deeply. Indeed, the impact has been profound and ongoing.

I understand that so much of it is the realization of how we have so harmfully prioritized individual over collective time and again. How the fact that 71 million individuals could vote for a desire to continue under the U.S.’s current leadership represents the numerous ways in which identity is prioritized over humanity—again the individual over the shared/collective.

I understand how and why so many have felt a need to publicly celebrate the election outcomes. It is indeed celebration worthy; yet, I am deeply troubled and impacted daily—even from hour to hour, and minute to minute—not only by what the surface celebrations represent in terms of people rightly feeling relief, and maybe some feeling hope. I am even more deeply impacted by what lies beneath…what that 71 million represents about what lies beneath.

There is so much that we need to confront, address, and root out.

But I’ll leave those thoughts for another day, another time…there is reason to celebrate, but there’s also reason (in fact more than 71 million reasons) for me to continue to stand as firmly as ever rooted as a truth teller and to prepare to continue working boldly for change and much needed transformation.

I will undoubtedly do so, but I must first continue to prioritize processing.

I need to further reflect and recover, and to continue to strategize and prepare…even as the celebrations prevail. The worthy recognition of this historic moment for women and the marginalized who see themselves represented for the first time as VP deserve due attention and celebration, as we continue to hope for (and boldly work towards) better days ahead.

The Power and Peril of Being Deemed “Essential”

In the wake of COVID-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus SARS-CoV-2 (i.e., severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2), we’ve learned new meanings associated with being deemed “essential.”

From the very start of the global pandemic, “essential workers” necessarily included first responders such as healthcare workers needed to diagnosis and treat COVID-19 patients. Additionally, however, other workers were deemed “essential” and expected to continue to work, despite the fact that doing so exposed them to risks. These personnel included those working at grocery stores, farm workers, delivery workers, transit personnel, as well as custodial workers in hospitals, shops, and other essential businesses.

Though deemed essential, these workers were often underpaid, even as they assumed heightened coronavirus exposure risks. Their temporal “essentiality” undoubtedly put them peril at of a greater risk of contracting COVID-19. Again, many of these workers are generally among the lowest paid; yet, “stay at home” orders made the work that they carry out critical in ways that we’d overlooked or actively failed to acknowledge (and reward) before the onset of pandemic. Indeed, despite years of lobbying and activism, minimum wage in the U.S. has been stagnant for decades.

At the same time that society-at-large was dealing with the pandemic, schools, colleges and universities were also pivoting to new means of engagement and education. Increasingly tuition-driven, colleges, and universities immediately began strategizing about how to keep classes going, and tuition money flowing.

Essential to the work of colleges and universities at this moment, personnel versed in “virtual” or on-line learning, and central to digital platforms, contributed to rapid pivots of instruction on-line. Many of the changes and innovations—and certainly not the speed at which they occurred—likely would not have been deemed possible prior to COVID-19—certainly not without protracted debate and planning. Yet, the recognition that failure to maintain access to classes would halt tuition income led to rapid action, and relaxed barriers about who could and should lead change in these spaces.

As access to class was deemed “essential” for the survival of institutions, rapid pivots and digital innovations ensued. Thus, while peril and risk came to those deemed “essential workers” in society-at-large due to exposure risks and job insecurity, “essential service” in colleges and universities that was tied to financial survival could be seen as leading to promise in regards to opportunities for digital innovations and stimulating the pace of change.

In the midst of responses to coronavirus pandemic, racial unrest resurged in the U.S. [although for many Black Americans it was already a present & persistent daily reality] due to events including those with Black birder Christian Cooper and involving the murder of George Floyd at the hands of police.

Universities responded, as did a great number of business entities, with statements professing solidarity with Black Americans and public written and verbal declarations that “Black Lives Matter.” Yet, despite these statements, real actions and strategies to mitigate or eliminate anti-Black racism have been much slower to emerge and less definitive in nature, despite the long-known racial disparities in academia.

These changes promised in the wake of responding to anti-Black racism have limped along or failed to materialize altogether—as if they are not essential!

Because I’ve seen what can happen when an issue or challenge is seen as essential, indeed is seen as critical to the very survival of academic institutions due to the tragic reality of COVID-19, I wonder what would happen if ensuring justice and equity in terms of access and success were truly seen in a similar light.

What rapidity and lengths of change would we see, if the leaders of our institutions saw equity and justice for students, staff, faculty—indeed all in these spaces—as essential to their very existence and ongoing survival.

No matter how many statements are made to communicate that equity is essential in these spaces, true promise in transforming institutions into spaces that prioritize, actively pursue, and hold themselves accountable for pursuing and maintaining equity and justice will only come when we deem it ESSENTIAL!

If you have comments on this post, as always find me on Twitter—@BerondaM.

My optimism can’t absolve you

While I aspire to optimism, even if my aspirations come to fruition: My optimism cannot absolve you.

In the most recent moments of grappling with police brutality against Black Americans, I’ve been asked countless times, mostly by non-Black friends and colleagues, “Are you optimistic?”

Truth is, I aspire to optimism.

But in practice I am probably more of a pragmatic idealist. What’s completely indisputable, however, is that I’m a truth teller.

And the truth about what I’ve come to understand is that many of these inquiries about my state of “optimism” or lack thereof have so much more to do with the fact that the questioner needs me to be optimistic. This is particularly true in cases where they’ve shared their new awareness about the state of “race relations” in the U.S.; their commitment to learn, grow, and change; or, their plans and actions, e.g., those related to anti-racism.

I was initially perplexed by their need to know if I’m optimistic, and even occasionally befuddled by their disappointment with my inability to readily declare that I possess optimism. My frequent response about my aspirations for or journey towards optimism seemed to frequently disappoint or surprise—as did my declaration that I’m not an unbridled idealist.

I’ve even had well-meaning colleagues suggest that optimism would be good for my health and state of mind. And while several studies have apparently linked extreme or strong pessimism with health risks, I’ve not seen strong links of optimism with positive health outcomes. A recent study on perceptions of financial outcomes does suggest that realists report a strong sense of subjective well-being; so, maybe my pragmatic idealist roots may serve me well.

All that said, I’ve gotten a sense that my expressing optimism about where we are or where we may be headed in our communities, workplaces, or as a country as a whole would give some of these non-Black friends and work associates a sense of absolution.

The truth is we each need to sit with the raw reality of this moment—a reality that I and many of my Black and other minoritized friends, family, and colleagues have traversed and continue to navigate. While the issues at hand, the historical paths related to them, and the daunting work that we must do to “right the ship” seems at times completely overwhelming, exhausting, and uncomfortable, we cannot look to those among us most impacted by the systemic racism in this country to carry the optimism and absolution.

So please know that while I aspire to optimism, even if my aspirations come to fruition: My optimism cannot absolve you.

You must continue to reflect, learn, grow, and commit to the hard, long work ahead. Your absolution is in doing the work, and fully submitting to the process of learning and growth.

If you have comments on this post, as always find me on Twitter—@BerondaM.