Abstract
This article uses Wendy Moore’s concept of White institutional space to explain why Black people experience ostracization, microaggressions, and other forms of othering in predominantly White institutions. More than five decades since the official end of Jim Crow, Black people report Whites treating them as though they do not belong in predominantly White institutions. It is as though Black people are still integrating White spaces, even when other Black people are members in those spaces. Drawing on sociology, psychology, and education literatures and our own ethnographic research, we argue that Black people feel like they are integrating White institutional spaces because they are. White people have constructed a three-part system to protect the Whiteness of spaces as people of color struggle for increased membership in historically White institutions. The first part of the system is physical segregation, accomplished primarily through residential segregation and institutional siloing. The second part is segregation via microaggressions that ensure that only a few people of color enter White institutional space, that the few who enter are unlikely to disturb White institutional space, and any people of color who no longer consent to White normativity are quickly discovered and excised. Finally, Whites use cognitive tricks like subtyping, which define colleagues of color as special exceptions to their otherwise undesirable racial groups. Through a fictional chronicle, the authors demonstrate how White colleagues use physical separation, microaggressions, and subtyping to maintain the Whiteness of their White institutional space.
Critical race theory (CRT) is “a broad theoretical framework created by synthesizing the main themes of scholars who have challenged dominant contemporary understandings of race and the law” (Bracey, 2015, p. 553). Among CRT’s central tenets is recognition of race as a social construction that both shapes—and is shaped by—law. That shaping creates concrete blockages to racial progress and gaping holes in antidiscrimination policy (Crenshaw, 1989, Lopez, 2006; Williams, 1991).
Wendy Moore’s (2008) theory of “White institutional space” continues the CRT tradition by spotlighting gaps in extant theories and social contexts, then revealing the tacit substances that occupy these vacuums. In other words, as a concept, White institutional space reveals what was previously hidden—that institutional spaces are racialized; their norms, logics, and material reward structures adhere to and reproduce racialized power. In a racialized society (Bonilla-Silva, 1997), unraced or race-neutral organizations cannot exist. Indeed, one cannot understand an institution without considering how it is raced. Thus “White institutional space” achieves the CRT task of revealing how race shapes organizations and social institutions.
In addition to revealing that institutions are inextricably raced, Moore reveals that institutions are not just raced; they are raced White through institutional norms, logics, reward structures, and power arrangements that import Whiteness into the institution. For example, Europeans constructed Whiteness as logical, chaste, disciplined, and cognitive, while constructing non-Whiteness as emotional, promiscuous, undisciplined, and corporal (A. Smith, 2005; Takaki, 2000). An institution raced White demands, rewards, and reproduces traits associated with White people while punishing traits associated with non-Whiteness.
By explaining that institutions are raced and that they are raced White, Moore (2008) reveals that the law and all organizations attached to it are White institutional spaces designed to reward Whiteness and punish non-Whiteness. Moore’s insight not only breaks new theoretical ground, it also answers oft-asked questions: why are White hairstyles “professional” but Black ones are not; why is country music acceptable in grocery stores but rap is not; why are suits and ties formal wear but dashikis, saris, and kimonos are “ethnic wear” inappropriate for similar functions? The answer is clear through the lens of White institutional space: White normativity is foundational to these institutions.
CRT Methods of Research and Communication
Divining these insights required Moore to empirically investigate White institutions (i.e., law schools) while imagining non-White versions of the schools. This process of imagining counterfactuals is an essential method in CRT. Because White people usually exclude(d) people of color from positions of power during institutions’ formative periods, there was no one present to challenge leaders’ raced-choices. Social scientists come to institutions that are always already raced White. Historical exclusion means there is no record of people of color trying to inculcate non-White norms at the start of organizations. Similarly, there is no situation in which White leaders cannot appeal to White norms to justify rejecting contemporary challenges to the Whiteness of White institutional spaces.
In the absence of traditional data sources, theorists who seek to understand the racialization of institutions rely on a range of sometimes unorthodox methods that “undo” the racialization of spaces. For example, to reveal the racialized logic of the U.S. Constitution, the great Critical Race Theorist, Derrick Bell (1987) placed a fictionalized, Black lawyer at the Constitutional Convention and had her debate the founders. Bell revealed hidden White logics in the Constitution by putting them in conversation with Black interests and logics. Fictional stories better reflected the role emotions, epistemology, and broader social contexts played in founders’ decisions to make the U.S. White institutional space. As Richard Delgado (1989, p. 2412) argues, stories are a primary way that “outgroups . . . whose marginality defines the boundaries of the mainstream . . . whose consciousness—has been suppressed” can create a “counterreality” in which non-White norms and shared understandings are central. These counterrealities are thus tools for interrogating White institutional spaces empirically and theoretically, while communicating to publics beyond academia.
A Counterreality About Integration
We join the rich CRT tradition of using counterrealities to center the perspectives of people of color. Drawing on their extensive empirical research in White universities (McIntosh, 2015) and churches (Bracey & Moore, 2017)—the authors use the counterstories about people of color in White organizations to explain key findings. In those studies, people of color regularly described themselves “coming into White organizations,” although the organizations had long been formally integrated. Respondents of color also described innumerable, unavoidable microaggressions coming from friend and foe.
The chronicle below uses composite representations of respondents to center multiple Black perspectives on White institutional spaces. We meet Drs. Howell and Rivers, who must navigate the White institutional space that is Landfall University. We then meet two interlocutors, Drs. Vivian Durant and James Vernon, who discuss Howell and friends’ experiences from a Black sociological perspective. Durant and Vernon are old friends with divergent views on how to pursue racial justice. Vernon prefers a traditional civil rights approach, while Durant is more critical. Ultimately, the chronicle suggests that every Black professional is integrating a White space because White people use segregation, microaggressions, and cognitive self-deceptions to maintain the experience of segregated space.
Chronicle of the Resurrection Regalia
Landfall University is a predominantly White university whose Black population hovers just under 4%. Otherwise, Landfall is doing well, recruiting top athletic and academic talent. Buoyed by successful fundraising campaigns, Landfall has 75 new hires, including two tenure-track African Americans—Collin Howell and Maxine Rivers. These young professors feel they have achieved some level of institutional and social authority.
For Collin, social awkwardness serves him well, as he spends most of his days conducting online surveys in his psychology lab, unencumbered by departmental politics and other time sucks. Following his mentor’s advice, Collin specializes in industrial and organizational psychology specifically to avoid being labelled an “identity scholar” who does unserious “me-search.”
During his campus interview, Dean Mills took special interest, “Mr. Howell, you may know my PhD is in anthropology. I know you’re a psychologist, but I couldn’t tell from your CV what your specific area is.”
Howell ignored the titular demotion, “I do industrial organizational psych, focusing on startup companies.”
“Is there a particular kind of entrepreneur you study?” Mills inquired.
“No. Everyone interests me. I focus on management techniques, not identity.”
“That’s great! We’ve been trying hard to diversify, but there are only so many cultural studies jobs. It’s nice to meet someone with scientific interests.”
On entering his office that September, Collin found colorful regalia floating in the center of the room, just as legend foretold. The moment was even grander than he dreamed! Collin read the attached note: Congratulations, brother, and welcome to the profession. You are one of precious few, a mere three percent of Americans who earn a terminal degree, and among the less than 20 percent of PhDs who win academic jobs before graduation (U.S. Census Bureau, 2011; Weissmann, 2013). We happily induct you into our ranks as a colleague and peer. You have risen from the horde to claim your place among the elite. Wear our regalia in good health and the knowledge that we are one.
Fraternitas, Excellentia, Nobilitatis
An elated Collin set down the note, turned around, and extended his arms as the regalia slipped itself onto his back.
Maxine Rivers, Esq, knew the game before she arrived. She held a tenure track job at a middling law school before applying, which Landfall University found attractive.
Assistant Provost C. J. Forrest had heard the rumors: “Landfall can’t keep Black faculty;” “Did you hear what they did to Professor X?” University President Perry was tired of being embarrassed, and he intimated that Forrest’s job depended on changing the narrative.
Maxine heard the same rumors. She knew Landfall was pursuing Black faculty, and she let it be known that she could be had for a price. When Landfall called for an interview, her script was ready. Maxine slipped into her resurrection regalia and did not remove it until she returned home.
That September, Maxine hit the ground running. Despite serving on committees and mentoring innumerable students, Maxine published three articles during her first year. In the classroom, Maxine shined. She made every effort to show students of color that they could be themselves without sacrificing professional success. Maxine was stylish, bold, and unapologetically Black. Students loved her, especially students of color. They imagined that a Black person could be a successful professional, and Dr. Rivers was living proof. Maxine knew how inspirational she was to students of color, and she worked hard to project the right image.
Dr. Rivers wore her resurrection regalia religiously outside the classroom. Maxine had been less consistent before, but she thought wearing it was wise given Landfall’s reputation. Maxine noticed that White colleagues treated her differently at Landfall than at her previous university. She expected new colleagues to belittle her state-school education. Instead, she found that Landfall faculty and staff were friendlier than previous colleagues. In fact, department members treated her like any other professor, which was refreshing but led to several awkward moments.
The most uncomfortable moment occurred at a faculty social. Cloaked in regalia, Dr. Rivers sipped on a bellini and mingled. A group of three White male professors invited her into their circle to discuss a recent men’s rights protest. Puzzled, Maxine listened as the men complained that students condemned the march as sexist without waiting to hear organizers’ perspectives.
They were especially frustrated that students blamed activists for violence at the protest. Looking at Maxine, one professor said, “Everybody knows I’m a feminist, but obviously, there are good people on both sides. Are your students jumping to conclusions, too? How do you get them to see protesters’ perspectives?”
“This is a first,” Maxine thought, before stating, “I make it clear that students have to be familiar with traditional views before they can offer critiques.”
As Maxine expected, the White professors heard what they wanted to hear. They nodded approvingly, assuming Maxine led with conservative frameworks so that students would reject liberals’ impractical complaints.
By May, Collin and Maxine had carved out routines for themselves at Landfall. As another academic year drew to a close, everyone gathered for the final faculty meeting. Hundreds of exhausted professors stumbled into the auditorium, praying for a speedy closing session. Surveying the room, Maxine noticed an open seat next to Collin.
“Maxine! I was just talking about you!”
“Is that right?” Maxine tilted her head playfully.
“I am thinking about organizing a week-long writing retreat slash ‘wine down.’ I was strategizing about funding sources and brainstorming an invitation list.”
“That’s a great idea! I was talking to my girlfriends about doing something like that. We’re spread around the country now, and my supply of Black girl magic needs refreshing,” Maxine said.
“I could use some focused writing time, too,” interjected a nasally voice. Maxine and Collin jerked their heads around to find Collin’s department chair staring at them from several rows back.
“Hi Oscar,” Collin said.
Maxine filled in, “Nothing has been decided yet. We’re just talking.”
“Understood. Let me know what you come up with. I’m sure I can free up some funds. Do you need me to email the department?”
Collin replied, “We were hoping to invite the faculty of color in the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences. There are only six of us. It shouldn’t be expensive.”
Oscar sat back, “Oh, I hadn’t realized. That’s probably outside the department’s scope. Forget I said anything.”
Maxine and Collin shifted their seats as President Perry took the stage. “Collin, what happened to your regalia?”
Collin grabbed at his suddenly visible undershirt, “I don’t know! What happened to yours?” Startled, Maxine discovered her regalia had vanished as well. Both tried to ignore White colleagues’ indiscreet glances and whispers.
The following week, Dean Mills popped in during Collin’s office hours, “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Dean Mills? How can I help you?” I just wanted to share some news with you, Collin. The facilities committee met, and we need to make some adjustments. Starting next week, your lab is moving from the Psychology wing to the Global Studies Department. Of course, your affiliation remains in Psychology, but we feel the department is better served using this space for in-person experiments. It’s part of a larger restructuring. You understand. I think you will like GSD better anyway. Your friend, Maxine, will be there starting in the fall as well.
With that Mills left as quickly as she came.
Microaggressions as Race Tests
“So what do you think?” Vivian asked.
“The professors’ experiences are typical and painful. Drs. Howell and Rivers experienced what Glenn Bracey and Wendy Moore” (2017, p. 284) call “race tests,” which are “performances by White individuals and groups, in the presence of incoming people of color; they are patterned racial microaggressions that deploy racist stereotypes—to preclude or precondition people of color’s participation in predominantly White social spaces.” Dr. Howell passed his race test with flying colors when Dean Mills questioned his area of study and celebrated his ‘scientific interests.’ It didn’t matter that Collin’s choice was strategic. As far as Dean Mills was concerned . . . ”
Vivian interrupted, Whether out of disinterest or strategy, Howell’s interest in “all entrepreneurs” signals a willingness to play ball. Mills could hire him without fear that his research would raise questions of racial justice and disturb the White normativity of his department.
James added, “Whites are careful to keep the number of people of color in White spaces small so that people of color cannot get enough institutional power to change organizational norms. That’s true in churches, neighborhoods, and lots of social institutions” (Barron & Williams, 2017; Bracey & Moore, 2017).
Vivian asked, “Why do you think Mills called him ‘Mister’?”
“Titular demotions and other disrespectful microaggressions are common.”
Vivian pressed, “Yes, but there’s a performative element to microaggressions.” Academics tend to emphasize people of color’s reactions and explain microaggressions as expressions of Whites’ racist cognitive frames (DeCuir-Gunby & Gunby, 2016). Scholars need to consider the performative element more from a White perspective. Whites feel imperiled by people of color because they know that oppression breeds resistance, therefore they must constantly surveil people of color.
“Are you saying Whites are intentionally provoking us, Vivian?”
“It’s not that simple. I would say it’s somewhere between conscious and unconscious.” Vivian continued, “In the post-civil rights era, Whites are less likely to make the explicitly racist claims they used to.”
“Explicit is in the eye of the beholder. I think White folks call hate speech ‘dog whistles’ just so they can pretend they don’t hear what is loud as thunder. Black folks have never been fooled.”
“True,” Vivian responded. “But the question of intentionality—which is the source of the conscious/unconscious debate—is a distraction based on White normativity embedded in legal jurisprudence” (Moore, 2014a). What’s important is that race tests are useful to Whites.
Remember, Whites are deeply invested in the Whiteness of White space. Bracey and Moore (2017) were too narrow when they limited race tests to “incoming people of color.” In truth, race tests occur throughout people of color’s tenure—pun intended—in White spaces. I would argue that most race tests are attempts by Whites to ensure people of color who are already in organizations continue to “consent” to the White normativity of White institutional spaces. People of color who enforce White norms or offer muted responses to microaggressions reaffirm their willingness to leave White institutional space unchallenged.
“That makes a lot of sense,” James confirmed. “You can see that in many contexts, but since we’re talking about higher education, I’ll focus there. Sociologists and education scholars produce a lot of work on microaggressions against students of color” (W. A. Smith et al., 2007; Warren, 2017). In one of the few studies centering administrators, David McIntosh (2015) found that White administrators are rewarded for practicing “intentional active neglect,” which involves ignoring data about discrimination against people of color and designing programs that cannot possibly alleviate racial injustices, all while falsely presenting their institution as one that embraces diversity and equity.
James continued, “I get it. But you could have just talked about microaggressions, Vivian. Why the chronicle?”
Vivian responded, “Like most people—whether everyday racists or conscious antiracists—you believe that integration is key to achieving racial equality. Many activists design their work around an assumption that desegregation shifts social and economic capital, which in turn produces equality (Bell, 1987; Harris, 1993). Your entire conversation is about means of achieving integration, but you haven’t asked the more fundamental question: Is racial integration even possible?”
James’s furrowed brow revealed his curiosity, “Integration, or at least desegregation, has been a settled legal question for half a century. What do you mean, ‘Is integration possible?’”
Subtyping, Microaggressions, and Why Every Black Hire Is the First
Vivian began to deliver something between a keynote and a monologue, We need to ask: what must be occurring in Whites’ minds to produce the consistency of race tests and other microaggressions? Why, three generations after formal desegregation, are White people nervous and uncomfortable working with people of color? And relatedly, why must every Black person in White institutional space function as though she is an isolated “first?” I think White people have been telling us the answer, but we didn’t take them seriously. We should pay more attention to seemingly meaningless utterances Whites make when describing people of color that they are comfortable with in White spaces. Perhaps such utterances are not so meaningless. (Maynard, 2013)
James interjected, “You mean comments that seem to separate Black colleagues from Black masses? Sayings like, ‘I don’t mean you,’ ‘present company excepted,’ ‘I don’t think of you as Black,’ et cetera. You’re suggesting that those comments may mean something?”
“Yes,” Vivian affirmed.
Black colleagues cannot be Black in Whites’ minds because Blackness and professional spaces are mutually exclusive. After all, a building is only a school if its inhabitants are capable of learning. If Whites define Black people as incapable of learning, then for Whites, there is no such thing as a Black student. A Black person in a school is merely an intruder who must be expelled so that the institution can do its educational function.
Vivian continued, To function in institutions, Whites must find some way to perceive themselves as being in segregated space, even when a person of color is present. They achieve this sense of segregated space by “subtyping” colleagues of color as exceptions, members of some undefined micro-racial category (Bott & Murphy, 2007; Hayes et al., 2003; Hilton & von Hippel, 1996)
In Whites’ minds, these members of color are not categorized as White, and they cannot enjoy the full rights and privileges of Whiteness or belonging. Instead, they are partial people, credited with probationary access to institutions, provided they do not disturb White institutional space.
James interjected, If I’m following you, that would explain why people of color say they feel “marginalized” and institutions respond with offices of “diversity and inclusion.” In other words, “diversity and inclusion” presumes recognition that the university is White space into which the “diverse” must be included. That’s noticeably different from a project to undo the Whiteness of the White space.
James continued, “But Vivian, your framework implies that people of color could avoid microaggressions all together by consenting to White normativity. They would just need to accept Whites’ subtyping and occupy that undefined micro-racial category. How do you explain that?”
Vivian countered, Actually, micro-racialized people can disturb White institutional space in any number of ways, voluntarily (e.g., discussing race, organizing, mentoring non-Whites) and/or involuntarily (e.g., being in the presence of another person of color, being a physical reminder of a racialized current event). However, the disruption occurs, the Black “partial-person” slips from provisional “honorary White/subtyped exception” back to a member of the Black horde.
James nodded, That’s why the resurrection regalia disappeared when Drs. Howell and Rivers sat together and planned their writing retreat. They did not intentionally disturb the university as White institutional space, but just the fact that they were together . . .
“ . . . and planning separate activities . . . ” Vivian interjected.
Yes, especially a professional development activity that could give them independent power—that primed the department chair, to think about race. Of course, once primed for race, he and the other Whites reverted to traditional racial categories that defined the junior professors as typical, dangerous Blacks who threaten White institutional spaces and must be removed. (W. A. Smith et al., 2007)
James continued, It reminds me of a recent conversation with a Black senior professor. He’s been a professor at Landfall for 30 years. When he applied, the old White men who interviewed him said, “If you get this job, you’ll be the first Black professor in the university’s history.” That wasn’t true because the actual first Black faculty member had already been working on campus for 10 years!
“Not in Whites’ perceived experience,” Vivian added.
“You know what’s worse,” James piled on, “while we were laughing at the senior professor’s story, a younger colleague turned to me and said, ‘you’re having a first, too, since you’re the first Black professor ever in our department.’”
Vivian replied, Exactly! Three different Black professors being the “first” Black at the same university. By the legal definition of integration, Landfall faculty has been integrated from the moment they hired the first Black faculty member. But in Whites’ experience in White space, the university is not integrated at all. If my math is right, that’s 40 years of new Black hires at Landfall experiencing being “firsts” who have to integrate the university.
James shook his head, “When you say it like that, it’s not a pretty picture. Truth be told, there are very few truly integrated institutions at all.”
“So break it down for me. What did you learn?” Vivian’s smile confirmed that I had understood all she came to tell me.
James started his summation,
Whites have a three-part system that ensures they live segregated lives. The first part is physical segregation, accomplished primarily through residential segregation and institutional siloing. The second part is segregation via race tests and other microaggressions that ensure that: only a few people of color enter White institutional space; that the few who enter are unlikely to disturb White institutional space; and any people of color who no longer consent to White normativity are quickly discovered and excised. Finally, Whites use cognitive tricks like subtyping and micro-racialization to define colleagues of color as distinct from undesirable racial groups but still inferior to Whites. This final maneuver—cognitive segregation through subtyping and micro-racialization—makes integration literally impossible with respect to White institutional spaces.
People of color in White organizations experience a kind of matrix of domination (Collins, 1990), a unique social space due to intersecting axes of oppression. In this case, racism and economic class location render people of color institutionally powerless and physically isolated. They exist simultaneously as persons and nonpersons in White institutional spaces. They become analogous to Ralph Ellison’s (2016) Invisible Man, unseen because Whites refuse to see him. Refuse, that is, until they are primed to think of race. Returning to the matrix of domination, when primed, Whites eliminate the provisional micro-racial category and make race the salient experience for previously subtyped colleagues.
“You are on point thus far.” Vivian redirected, but what do racial subtyping and micro-racialization explain?
James thought for a moment, “These White mental gymnastics address some unexplained aspects of microaggressions.” First, they explain common phrases like “ascending to Whiteness,” “you’re not like the rest of them [Blacks],” “I don’t mean you,” and “present company excepted.” Perhaps Whites really don’t mean you most of the time, although they very easily can mean you when the Whiteness of institutions is threatened. Second, Whites’ creation of racial blinders, like the resurrection regalia, explains why people of color often experience microaggressions from Whites they know well or are around frequently, including progressive Whites. Of course, some Whites are mistaken about their racial progressiveness; they hold bigoted ideas while claiming antiracism (see UVA Center for Politics, 2017). But I’m talking about microaggressions that surprise race-conscious people of color because they come from unexpected, semi-intimate sources at unexpected times.
Third, subtyping and micro-racialization partially explain how White institutional spaces remain White normative. In the White mind, these institutional spaces are as racially segregated as ever. Not only do Whites experience themselves as living in segregated spaces, they fully expect new spaces they enter to be segregated as well. By signaling adherence to White normativity—via art, architecture, prestige, and so on—institutions represent themselves as spaces where White individuals can expect to experience White institutional space. The institution implicitly promises that only Whites and subtyped-members of exceptional micro-races can long endure in the space. Most Whites move exclusively between these kinds of White institutional spaces, vigilantly avoiding “bad neighborhoods” and other locations that fail to represent themselves as segregated White institutional spaces.
Fourth, racial subtyping explains why young Whites use microaggressions as frequently as their elders. Microaggressions are not solely a function of the dominant racial frame in each generation, subject to change or decline as Whites grow accustomed to integration. Instead, microaggressions persist because they are required for maintaining White institutional spaces, especially the presumption of segregation that is required for Whites to function in institutions.
James stopped for a sip of water.
“You’re not finished are you?” Vivian prompted. “You have only addressed implications based on Whites’ perceptions and interests. What about implications from a Black perspective?”
“I’m getting there,” James said, chuckling.
“One day, you might even think of Black people first. Just saying . . . ”
Ignoring the jab, James continued his summation, “From a Black perspective, this theory speaks to several aspects of the microaggression phenomenon as well. First, it explains our inability to predict where, when, from whom, and in what form a microaggression is coming. Although Black people are attuned to overt and covert forms of racism, we are unable to predict microaggressions with enough precision to avoid them. That is because microaggressions result both from perceptible organizational conditions (Wingfield & Chavez, 2020) and imperceptible cognitive shifts, including formation of semi-idiosyncratic subtypes.
Second, the three-tiered system of segregation explains the consistency of Black experiences across generations. Thirty years into her career, a Black woman can pull aside a new Black hire and give him relevant advice about how to enter and survive the toxic, White normative environment. The advice the senior Black woman gives is based on her experience as an early integrator of a White institution. Of course, she is also drawing on experience throughout her entire 30-year career, but that experience is also as an integrator. Every time she gains a year of seniority or wins promotion or takes on a new administrative role, she integrates that level of the White institution. No matter what she does, she always exists as an integrator.
The advice of senior Black colleagues—the integrators—is relevant because the new hire will have experiences as though they are the first person of color entering White organizations. Younger Black professionals will have those experiences because Whites will behave as though the new Black hire really is the first, because in the White mind, the new person is the “first” Black hire in the sense that they are a potential disruption to what the White person understands as segregated White space.
Finally, and most importantly, understanding that Whites are functionally living in segregated White institutional spaces allows Black people to invest our time, energy, and hopes in institutions of our own creation, under our own control. Rather than kick against the goads trying to convince White people of what is easily known, we can experience and enjoy our humanity.
We can create affirmative definitions of Blackness for ourselves and establish just institutions to sustain all who embrace their tenets.
Vivian smiled as she stood up and headed for the door, “That’s a beautiful vision, James. I hope you embrace it.”
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.