We have been charged to write a blog to be distributed to and read by students and colleagues in the field of higher education. The intention behind the blog is to engage educational researchers to better understand, consider, or address a contemporary topic, as well as the way in which we might approach our work. If we are lucky, our blog might inspire others to think more deeply about their own work. Thus, for our blog, we want to call attention to higher education scholars and practitioners to think about why Black lives matter and how their work reinforces (or does not reinforce) this sentiment.
Omnipresent in contemporary
debates around police brutality, surveillance of black and brown bodies, and the
myth of the American Creed, is higher education. Take for instance the
following contemporary moments of social injustice that prompted rampant
protests regarding the devaluation of Black lives.
Michael Brown was just 18-years
old when he was chased down, shot, and killed by police officer Darren Wilson
in Ferguson, Missouri. Before his murder, he was on the verge of beginning his
postsecondary career at Vatterott College – a proprietary institution with
notable donors such as Mitt Romney and with a history of targeting low-income
and working class students of color. While debates emerged regarding the
relevance of Brown’s college plans amidst police violence against Black bodies,
we feel it is important to acknowledge his higher education aspirations in
context of the dismal postsecondary opportunities for Black Americans. We
question the way in which Brown’s aspirations were used to assign increased value
to his life, and the ways that for-profit institutions prey on hope, while offering
only limited opportunities for communities already placed at risk.
Martese Johnson, a 20-year
old student at University of Virginia, suffered a head injury after he was
unjustly accused of public intoxication and using a fake I.D. to enter a bar
frequented by UVA students. He was brutalized by officers with the Virginia Department
of Alcoholic Beverage Control (ABC), an entity responsible for regulating the
state’s alcohol industry and policing alcohol crimes, and with similar
enforcement powers as police officers. Johnson’s victimization became national
headlines only after video was released that captured the graphic violence ABC
officers unleashed against Johnson as he bled and pleaded with his perpetrators.
Johnson, who is an active student leader on campus and a member of various
honors organizations, reminded us that the racial macroaggressions committed
against students of color in postsecondary contexts are not divorced from the
larger maltreatment of Blacks in the U.S. History reflects how, too often, Black lives are considered expendable. And
how their absence in higher education is pathologized to blame the victim rather
than questioning and holding accountable the very systems that produce such
disparate outcomes in the first place.
Freddie Gray was 25-years
old when he was illegally arrested by police, subjected to a fatal spinal cord
injury, and died while in police custody in Baltimore, Maryland. Gray is the
latest high profile victim of police brutality. Indeed, in the course of the
last year the death, or more aptly, the murder of Black lives has become a type
of public spectacle. Whether by T.V. or computer screen, anonymous voyeurs tune
in to bare witness, albeit from a safe distance, no accountability necessary,
to stare at state sanctioned violence. Unpleasant truths are easy to ignore if
these are not your reality. But once you see them, once you know of them, are
they not your responsibility?
In response to Gray’s death, Johns Hopkins University President Ronald Daniels released a statement calling for
an investigation into Freddie Gray’s death. Among other things, he said, “Our university takes seriously the opportunity and
obligation of our role as an anchor institution within Baltimore. But as the
events of the past week remind us, there is more to do.” Echoing President
Daniels, we also believe there is much for us in higher education to do to
emphasize and teach how and why Black lives matter. Such a task belongs to us
all, not just to faculty of color or to African American and/or Black Studies
Departments. Black lives matter across all fields and disciplines; they matter
just as much in the sciences as in the humanities. If we are to live up to
higher education’s democratic aspirations, Black lives should matter to us all.
Indeed, if the Black Lives Matter movement is to be more than hashtag social activism, we believe
that we in higher education also bear a responsibility to ask ourselves:
What is the state of Black lives on your campus?
Do Black Studies exist on your campus?
How is the diversity of what constitutes Blackness reflected in the
curriculum and programming at your institution?
(How) Are Black students, faculty, staff, and administrators being
recruited and retained?
What are the ways in which your institution socially, politically, and
materially supports Black students, faculty, staff, and administrators?
What relationship does your institution have with Black communities if
at all?
What have you done to respond, address, and/or participate in the
Black lives matter movement?
How has this movement informed or inspired your work?
We challenge you to think about how you, your
community, or institution, are concretely working to answer these questions and
to make Black lives matter on your campus. We acknowledge that addressing injustice can be overwhelming, however
small acts are as important as revolutionary actions. And, in the end
“what you allow is what will continue.”
