(Re)Negotiating Organizational Socialization: Black Male Scholarship and the Closet

Black Male Scholarship, Closeting, and Organizational Socialization

Socialization is a developmental unending process which can be broken up into three stages: anticipatory, assimilation, and exit (Jablin, 1987). Throughout this forum piece, I will delineate the anticipatory and assimilation socialization stages, while highlighting moments of closeting during my experiences. I begin by discussing my anticipatory socialization experiences with academia.

Per Jablin’s model, anticipatory socialization occurs before a person becomes a member of an organization. Throughout the anticipatory socialization process, future members receive information (intentionally or unintentionally) that will affect and prepare them to make choices, develop expectations, establish beliefs, and practices behaviors. In my experience, “Black,” “scholar,” and “scholarship” are words not typically arranged together in conversations growing up. Growing up in a predominately Black neighborhood, the core communicated values were working hard and getting a good job. It was not “cool” to be an overachiever, and the students who took school seriously often faced bullying. Academics were not presented as a place for African Americans/Blacks. The teachers did not look like me, talk like me, walk like me, experience my trials, or understand my struggles. Therefore, the idea of making a career as a professional nerd was criticized or rarely talked. Growing up African American/Black scholarship was communicated as “a means to an end,” rather than a means of survival.

My grandmother often told me, “Marcus, get you an education so you can get you a good job, make you some money and stay out of places like this. ‘Cause there is nothing here for you or in them hoods but drugs and mess; but you get no good work without education.” She was one of many family members and mentors who shared similar advice; however, many people who gave advice had either little or no experience in college or never attained a degree. School always came easy to me because I enjoyed it; however, my biggest challenge was revealing to friends, teammates, and even family that I enjoyed education. I often felt the need to closet my desire to excel, learn, and research at a young age in fear of being “othered.” I would pretend to like watching sports with relatives rather than crunching numbers, avoid speaking on educational topics outside of school, and even “dumb” myself down inside the classroom to fit the mold.

My assimilation process began in college, although I wasn’t completely comfortable with my school choice. However, as Jablin would suggest, I began to deal with internal conflicts and external conflicts while becoming a functioning member of my organization. Movies such as Stomp the Yard, Drumline, and School Daze were my introduction to college. These movies, all set at historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs), demonstrated a safe space where Black people are proud to be educated, elite, and having fun doing it. These movies inspired me to attend an HBCU; my decision, like most Black males, in picking a college came from a social perspective (Matabane & Merritt, 2014). However, the conversations from my anticipatory stage consistently plagued my mind. I remembered people saying, “Black colleges aren’t prestigious,” and “White colleges offer more opportunities.” I couldn’t articulate the feeling of paradoxes, tensions, and the effects of White privilege that I felt; however, I could feel them. As a Black male attempting to assimilate into a predominately White environment, I never completely felt assimilated. Certain campus activities and areas on campus felt as if they weren’t welcoming to Black students. Reluctantly, I chose to attend a predominately white institution (PWI) and began closeting certain aspects to myself.

To some other students, staff, and even some family, I pretended to agree with the negative verbiage on HBCUs. “The world isn’t Black,” “They are not what they used to be,” and “They don’t have much to offer.” Although I truly preferred to be immersed in Black culture, surrounded by Black people, and desired to be a part of what I had seen in the movies, I kept it to myself because thoughts like these were not always welcomed at a predominately White institution. Unlike the people in the movies, I experienced blatant and discrete acts of racism, othering, and stereotyping. To successfully make it through college, while convincing myself that I was truly a member of the larger organization, I hid my passions, masked my feelings, and subjected myself to things I didn’t agree with. I remember telling family that I would become a lawyer and business owner to win their approval when secretly my true desire was to become a professor. After being told by a White female student that she didn’t think Black men could be professors because she had never seen one, I kept that goal to myself. Eventually feelings of doubt subsided when a professor encouraged and helped me begin the process of becoming a professor; however, they never truly went away. Even in present day, I am faced with the internal conflict of feeling misplaced in academia although my colleagues and superiors do what they can to make me comfortable. I constantly feel the need to downplay my goals to become a professor or make my desires known.

Upon entry to graduate school, I was extremely excited and nervous. Even among my peers, I felt like an outsider. I had a graduate assistantship from outside of the department and was admitted during the beginning of the spring semester of coursework. The first thing I noticed was that there were no Black faculty or graduate students. This concerned me because I was afraid of not being accepted; being “that Black guy, who studies Black things”; being looked at as a token/affirmative action case; and being an outsider. My desire to excel in the program was closely matched with my fear of being an imposter. These feelings, experiences, and concerns are not uncommon to Black/ African American scholars in academia (Allen, 1998). Did they know I wanted to be a professor? Did they know how few Black males make it this far? I went back into the closet throughout my first few months of the program. Many professors made me feel comfortable and confident in my ability to succeed in the program. However, when anyone would ask, “Do you plan to stay in academia?” or “Do you want to go on to be a professor?” I would shy away from giving a firm answer. Many faculty members knew that I want to pursue a career in academia; though, I tended to smooth it over with the other graduate students in fear of rejection. For quite a while, I felt a constant struggle to feel like I belonged in the program; these people knew so much about the field of communication and academia. All I knew is that, I loved communication, wanted to conduct research, and wanted to instruct the minds of the future.

Implications for Research and Practice

My lived experience as a member of the Black community enables me to give voice to a group often not heard in academia. My Black experience helps to see how the “closet” can apply to many different experiences and expanding our understanding of organizational socialization, by showing how the closet shapes each stage of organizational socialization for Black academics.

Although this forum essay does not explore all my closeted experiences as a Black male scholar, it highlights a phenomenon we should explore more in the field of communication. Many of us closet aspects of our identities frequently.

When talking to friends, I rarely, if ever, bring up graduate school. I do not allow research studies and interest to ever invade our conversations. Many of the people I associate with have no desire to understand big and little discourse. I tend to find discrete ways to incorporate my nerd genius into conversation. Black male scholarship is in opposition to the dominant stereotypes placed on the Black male. The truth is that I believe I will never stop negotiating and (re)negotiating the closet until the dominant narrative changes.