Dr. Marcela Rodriguez-Campo Through the work that I did as a director of a diversity office, I was always finding ways to make magic out of the least given how poorly our work was funded. Nonetheless, we did everything we could to pay folks for their time and labor. After finishing the planning of one of the largest state-wide events my team had ever hosted, a local artist we had collaborated with previously offered to return to our campus to offer my team a pour-painting workshop, for free. I was left stunned.
That’s too generous, right? Are you sure? Maybe we can dig up some funds or find a sponsorship?
No. I want to give this to your team as a thank you for the work that you all do. And for being a safe person folks can go to.
My eyes immediately welled up with tears: We were safe for her and now she wanted to keep our spirits safe in return. This is community care.
When people from historically marginalized communities enter the Ivory Tower as students, staff, or faculty, institutions actively work to estrange us from our communities. They teach us that our culture, our histories, our languages don’t matter, by rarely including us in the curriculum. They show us that our voices and our stories aren’t allowed to take up space there, when they ban our books, dismiss our questions, deny our realities, and reject our ways of knowing. They mold us into “professionals”, train us in Eurocentric research and teaching practices, and force us to subscribe to their ways of being in order to succeed and survive. They convince us that success will be measured by their standards, rather than those set forth by our communities.
Diversity, equity, & inclusion (DEI) offices are fundamentally about enacting an ethic of care that is culturally and politically grounded in the communities our students come from.
The Trump administration has deemed that a danger and threat to society. They are attempting to make us forget ourselves and pushing an agenda of historical amnesia. They are trying to make us forget that there is a whole world out there beyond the Ivory Walls that needs us to exist. Heartbreakingly enough, it is working. Once bold and visionary leaders are capitulating to authoritarianism and white supremacist ideology. As we see the far-reaching resistance to this now trending DEI-boogeyman, it is more important than ever that we remember our lineage, that we return to our communities, that we return to the river that offered us our first sips of liberation. So that we may continue to — as Toni Morrison taught us — move in the direction of freedom.
As we face persistent threats and attacks on our work, allow me to offer the DEI professionals and our student leaders a reminder: your community needs you and it needs you free, too. Let us learn from the lineage of our work and remember as our own continuous act of rebellion the river from which DEI pulls from.
Cultural centers and diversity offices did not come about placidly or because of the goodwill of institutions. They were fought for, demanded. They were created not because of the polite and demure requests of Students and Faculty of Color, but as a result of courageous boycotts, sit-ins, building occupations, protests, mobilization, and organizing of marginalized communities who recognized the second-class support they were receiving and who were inspired by the activism of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960’s. Chicano students in East LA walked out of schools in droves to denounce the substandard education they were being given. They stepped out to demand better teachers, better learning conditions, more resources, and ethnic studies. In that same year a month later, Black students at Columbia University occupied Hamilton Hall to protest segregation and racism in higher education. Students collectively led a revolution through each act of resistance and refused to accept an education system that dehumanized and disrespected their community.
DEI is a byproduct of student activism. As Black cultural centers began opening, cultural centers for other community groups were created in the same vein, to offer safe spaces and resources to students from the margins. Cultural centers created spaces for students to develop a collective consciousness where they could find themselves and each other in a sea of white curriculum, culture, policies, and practices. They have historically supported the recruitment, retention, and graduation of marginalized student groups. Student and scholar activists’ radical visions of transforming higher education to equitably serve and empower students from the margins was stunted by institutional resistance that was coded as budgets, enrollment, and value add. Some of the same code words we hear today.
So, DEI was created as the compromise, a palatable option. One that checked some of the boxes, while not transforming the institution wholly. DEI was never intended to be the radical resolution student activists fought for.
The aggressive attack on DEI is the consequence of our ability to become effective, to reach a critical mass of folks nationally to question the status quo and the system enough to make the people in power uncomfortable. Whether DEI is banned for one presidency or two or forever, it was never meant to save us. We have to do that. Our communities have always done that. DEI was never going to be enough and at many institutions, it was never intended to be effective. We need to reclaim our agency and power and voices from the institutions who never loved us back anyway and recognize that there is so much more we could build with or without them in and with community. As this current moment and the highly organized right works to scare, intimidate, and paralyze us, the most critical thing we could be doing in this very moment is building community from within and especially from outside of our institutions.
Beloved, we are the global majority. And this current political moment is working hard and fast because it is the last opportunity to reset the scales. They are scared of the collective power and freedom we can tap into in our communities because our communities are our source. The very care that we offer to our students we first learned from our communities. The care we owe is to our communities. The reason we do this work is for our communities. The care we are searching for is in our communities. The resistance has begun and will continue to exist within our communities. Your work will likely need to evolve, as this work always has, so go ahead and evolve.
In Emergent Strategy by adrienne maree brown she shares this powerful wisdom on interdependence and community by Naima Penniman:
“When Hurricane Katrina slammed into the Gulf Coast, almost everything lost its footing. Houses were detached from their foundations, trees and shrubbery were uprooted, signposts and vehicles floated down the rivers that became of the streets. But amidst the whipping winds and surging water, the oak tree held its ground. How? Instead of digging its roots deep and solitary into the earth, the oak tree grows its roots wide and interlocks with other oak trees in the surrounding area. And you can’t bring down a hundred oak trees bound beneath the soil! How do we survive the unnatural disasters of climate change, environmental injustice, over-policing, mass-imprisonment, militarization, economic inequality, corporate globalization, and displacement? We must connect in the underground, my people! In this way, we shall survive” (p. 84–85).
We have left ourselves vulnerable because we have dug our roots deep in academia and have not rooted ourselves like the oak tree across our community. We must become an oak tree, rooting ourselves expansively, interdependently within community so that when they come for us– and they will– we will continue to stand. Whatever work we are able to do between now and the next attack on our work, let us reach towards the oak trees who seeded us and root ourselves to one another as we gear up for the struggle of our lifetime. It is the imperative of our lifetime to remember who we are and return to community.
When my institution quickly disposed of the legacy of the DEI professionals and students, community saved me. When they demonized me, targeted me, and worked to snuff out my fire, community reminded me of who I am. When the institution nearly convinced me that someone like me should not exist, community reminded me of the entire world that breathes and lives outside the ivory walls that needs me. Community rekindled my spirit and my hope, that even in the direst set of circumstances, my people make magic.
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Dr. Marcela Rodriguez-Campo is an educator and scholar-practitioner. She is a former DEI Director from a public four year institution. She is the founder of Co-Libre Education.
