Straddling Cultures,Identities,and Inconsistencies: Voices of Pre-Tenure Faculty of Color in Educational Leadership

Biculturalism

A bicultural individual can switch “between two cultures as required by the situation or institution” (Sadao, 2003, p. 399). Previous scholars (Alfred, 2001; Benet-Martínez, Leu, Lee, & Morris, 2002; Cuyjet, 2008) have often used the term synonymously with Du Bois’ double consciousness, a concept he used to describe the sense of “two-ness” African Americans in the 19th century felt in being both American and African American or Black (or Negro). Double consciousness is “this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity” (p. 194). Unfortunately, people of color learned early on that the White majority valued their lives and very existence differently, and in some case even devalued their lived experiences (Barnes, 1990).

Biculturalism is also one means in which “members of marginalized groups [who] are, by virtue of the discrimination they face, forced to accommodate themselves to the dominant culture or be even further marginalized” (Guy, 1999, p. 13). In her study, Sadao found that FOC had to learn biculturation very early in life, which meant by the time they became academic professionals they were sophisticated at code switching, applying certain cultural values to varying situations when appropriate. As such, biculturalism is a cultural skill set that can prime FOC to successfully navigate the dominant culture of academia and their self-identified cultural world. Oliva, Rodriguez, Alanis, and Quijada Cerecer (2013) envisioned their biculturalism as Latina faculty as enabling them to proclaim their “authentic” selves in the workplace and their home cultural contexts (p. 94). The authors used their counterstories as Latina faculty in the academy to prove how they could “negotiate borders,” demonstrate their “fluid cultural and linguistic experience[s]” and “epistemologically manage and navigate multiple cultural worlds as an asset in the continuous process of self-authoring” (p. 105). Ultimately, FOC can develop bicultural skills to flourish in two worlds (Sadao, 2003), albeit the onus is placed upon them to do so.

Hybridity

Hybridity or hybrid identity is the way in which people of color can instinctively cross borders to create a new, distinctive identity (Iyall Smith, 2008). Hybridity is often associated with Anzaldúa’s (1987) new mestiza consciousness and the work of other Chicana feminist scholars (Elenes, 1997; Pérez, 1999) who speak to the hybrid identities formed by Chicanas/os as they integrate multiple ways of being and knowing: a third space between multiple cultural worlds. Therefore, an individual with a hybrid identity does not have to pick one cultural group over the other at a given time. Hence, an individual can explicitly embody “multiple identities instead of crossing identity group boundaries” (Iyall Smith, 2008, p. 7). Despite this advantage, hybridity as a process presents challenges. For example, Mayuzumi (2008) theorized, in her study of Asian women faculty (AWF) in a North American context, that although hybridity honors “multiplicity,” there is “ambivalence in identity” or “uncertainty” (p. 179). For example, the author acknowledged the “gray areas” in which AWF are located, given participants’ described confusion over “not being Asians in Asia but Asians in the ‘West’; not pure Asian or pure Western” (p. 179). This demonstrates how identity formation is complex for people of color as they can concurrently reside in varying times and spaces “where they experience the ‘dual citizenships’ of ‘being made’ and ‘self-making’” (Mayuzumi, 2008, p. 179).

Integrating Theories

Figure 1 provides a simplistic visual representation of our understanding of how these two theories compare and make distinctions between the subculture identity of FOC (their racial and ethnic cultural traditions, values, and norms) and the dominant cultural identity (i.e., academia). The two theories suggest that FOC develop survival skills that allow them to reside in multiple cultural worlds. Biculturalism, or double consciousness, implies that FOC navigate between two cultural worlds, their self-identified subculture and the dominant culture, whereas hybridity acknowledges that FOC can exist in a number of spaces simultaneously by inventing a new combined identity through self-authorship. Yet, we contend that institutional racism and other marginalizing policies and practices within academia might not facilitate FOC from developing or experiencing this sense of hybridity if FOC do not feel fully accepted in academia because of their racial, ethnic, or cultural status. The latter resulting in a continued sense of “two-ness” is characterized by continuous switching between cultures instead of a more fluid integration of both cultures through a new identity.

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Figure 1.

Comparison of cultural identity theories contributing to framework.

Our integration of these theories guided us in answering one overarching research question: In what ways did the 12 Black, Latina/o, and Asian educational leadership faculty participants negotiate their racial and cultural identities while navigating toward tenure?

Participants

Data for this study were drawn from a larger nationwide project on the experiences of 55 pre-tenure FOC working in various disciplines in the United States. The larger project was conducted by a five-member research team of female scholars of color working at various universities across the country. The scholars collaborated on the development of the data collection instruments and data collection process. Three of the research team members were participants as well and were interviewed by other members of the research team, as they fit the criteria for the larger study. This study specifically draws on data from the 12 participants from the larger study (2 of them being the authors) that specifically worked in the field of educational leadership at various 4-year public universities across the country. This subsample of FOC in educational leadership did not represent all potential social identities (i.e., ability, sexual orientation, etc.). This limitation could be indicative of our sampling strategy and/or limitation in the diversity of the field.

Except for the authors, all participants were recruited via e-mail or in person through multiple means including the larger research team’s own professional and institutional networks, professional conferences for national education associations, and snowball sampling, where study participants suggested names of potential participants who met the criteria for the study. We acknowledge that our recruitment strategies did result in some participants being known colleagues of ours, although the majority of the 55 participants were not. Nonetheless, we did not consider any previously established relationships with participants as a hindrance but instead as a foundation from where to build trust. Although we remained cognizant of how our relationships or positionalities might shape participants’ responses in interviews and our data analysis, we purposefully self-disclosed our identities as women of color working within the academy. As such, we drew on our cultural insight, as insiders, to make sense of the “linguistic, cognitive, emotional, sensory and psychological principles” of participants (Chavez, 2008, p. 479).

For the purpose of confidentiality, we provided each participant a pseudonym, and have chosen not to provide too many details about participants’ programs and/or universities so that their identities might not be surmised. Table 1 provides additional information about participants including their pseudonyms, their sex and racial or ethnic backgrounds, and the pre-tenure year they were in at the time of the interview.

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Table 1.

Participant Information.

Pseudonym	Race or ethnicity or sex	Pre-tenure year
Stephanie	Black female	5th year
Barbara	Black female	3rd year
Jordan	Black female	3rd year
Rick	Black male	3rd year
Lloyd	Black male	4th year
Cristina	Latina female	3rd year
Nancy	Latina female	5th year
Anita	Latina female	3rd year
Alex	Latino male	4th year
Sebastian	Latino male	4th year
May	Asian female	4th year
John	Asian male	2nd year

Data Collection and Analysis

Participant data were gathered through individual, semistructured, audio-recorded interviews that took place in 2012 and 2013. Interviews lasted between 30 and 90 minutes and took place either in person or via video call. During interviews, participants were asked the same set of questions related to their demographic and educational background; what led them to the professoriate; their perspective of having been prepared for faculty life; how their life as an academic shapes or affects their personal life; successes and challenges faced in navigating the academy as a FOC; their perceptions of how their experiences in the academy compare to their White counterparts; who or what they draw strength from in the midst of challenges; the role of mentorship; how institutional, departmental, and/or programmatic dynamics factor into their successes and challenges; their satisfaction with the profession; and advice they would give students of color seeking to join the professoriate.

As interviews were completed, audio recordings were transcribed and checked for accuracy. The authors then individually analyzed an equal number of the transcripts examined for this study to conduct a thematic analysis while keeping our theoretical framework in mind. In phenomenological research, “themes may be understood as the structures of experience. So when we analyze a phenomenon, we are trying to determine what the themes are, the experiential structures that make up that experience” (Van Manen, 1990, p. 79). We focused on unearthing “something ‘telling,’ something ‘meaningful,’ something ‘thematic’ in the various experiential accounts” of FOC (Van Manen, 1990, p. 86). Thereafter, we met to review, discuss, and compare preliminary themes to identify only overarching themes that were sufficiently supported by the data.

Reliability and Trustworthiness

Various measures were taken to contribute to the reliability and trustworthiness of this study. First, all transcripts were checked for accuracy prior to analysis. As a research team, we also communicated regularly throughout the data analysis process to ensure our own understandings of codes and to clarify emergent themes. We attempted to provide detailed descriptions in our written analysis to convey participants’ experiences in a realistic fashion. Finally, we are forthcoming in acknowledging our own positionalities relative to that of participants. As previously mentioned, the two authors took part in this particular study as they are female, tenure-track FOC working at four-year universities, specifically in the field of educational leadership. Thus, our own experiences within academia shaped our understanding of faculty life in general, and the experiences of the educational leadership FOC participants. Yet, the intersectionality of our social identities shaped our unique lived experiences and provided for similarities as well as differences in experiences when compared to those of participants.

The first author (M.A.M.), for instance, is a single, Mexican American woman originally from the South Texas border, where she grew up in a middle-class family with two college-educated parents. Her racialized, gendered, and classed experiences along the educational pipeline as a student who attended both a Hispanic-serving institution and PWI, as well as her experiences as a public school teacher and school counselor inform her understandings of marginalized communities and systemic racism and inequities. As a Black woman reared in a female-led, working-class, single-parent home, the second author (A.D.W.) learned early on the realities of both double consciousness and biculturalism given she crossed the color line in her K-12 school experiences as a transfer student in an all-White school. The considerable code “switching” (Johnsrud & Sadao, 1998) she endured to traverse Whiteness in her K-12 schooling made her better equipped to counter any questioning of her academic acumen in higher education as an undergraduate, graduate student, and now a tenure-line professor.

“I Don’t Look Like a Professor . . . They Don’t Even Acknowledge Me.”

FOC in our study had a sense of double consciousness in that they were hyperaware of how their racial and intersecting identities were viewed “through the eyes” of their White colleagues (Du Bois, 1897, p. 194). Participants described how some White colleagues viewed hiring faculty from underrepresented groups as “threatening” or representing a “shift in power” away from White-dominant norms. This was evident in the way participants’ colleagues and even students questioned whether FOC were “worthy” of a tenure-track position in educational leadership. For some, their “threatening” presence resulted in racial microaggressions. Sebastian, a Latino, explained, “I’ve had people make snide comments, undertones and stuff . . . and a lot of folks told me, ‘You’re not going to like that area; it’s a predominantly White institution (PWI) and so is the community.’”

Clearly, educational leadership FOC represented a threat, or “contempt and pity” according to Du Bois, to some White colleagues in multiple ways (p. 194). Thus, from a literal standpoint, FOC felt that their appearance challenged others’ notions of who a professor is and what they should look like. This was especially the case for FOC who had multiple marginalized identities. Working at a PWI within a predominantly White community, Lloyd, an African American professor, expressed how his being “a young faculty member of color” was one of his “biggest concerns” knowing he would be “standing in front of these classrooms of students where probably 100% of them are going to be significantly older than me and all of them are going to be White.” A common result was “getting challenged” by students, “It’s kind of ‘well, how do you know anything about that?”

Also, for young, female FOC in educational leadership, the intersectionality of their identities could at times present a different set of challenges compared to their male FOC and White female peers. Barbara described her experience:

I’m young, I’m Black and I’m a woman and even on campus I don’t look like a professor; most of the time if I go to the library it’s, how can I help you sweetie? If I go to faculty, university-wide faculty meetings, they’re like, “Who is she?” Well just a professor like you; stop looking at me like, “What is she doing here?” . . . Or if they say hi to a person I’m talking to [but not to me,] and I’m like wow! . . . They don’t even acknowledge me, so I think that’s a struggle . . .

Stephanie, who identified as Black, shared similar sentiments noting how multiple marginality often translated to “men of color . . . [having] better [opportunities].” Even in organizations like “UCEA or AERA,” she felt that there tended to be more opportunities and accolades for Black men, which she appreciated. Yet she wondered, “Where is the spotlight on Black women and what Black women are doing? Or even scholarship and research focused on Black women?” For her, this was “worrisome” both personally, because this meant “less support” for her, and professionally, as she felt that the field of educational leadership “need[s] that scholarship, we need those voices.” She admitted this situation was “definitely true of Latinas too.” Most men and women recognized how “the gender dynamic is huge” in the field. As Sebastian revealed, “Being in leadership, a male dominated environment, a heterosexual male dominated environment . . . so if you are of a sexual orientation that is not, you know, the ‘norm,’ yeah you’re going to be ostracized for it.”

Even still, some FOC were able to use their bicultural skills as a tactic to challenge the unfortunate dominant cultural norms of faculty who supported blatant inequities or exhibited racist attitudes or practices. It was in such moments that Lloyd felt “tension” directed toward him. “I’ve come, you know, face to face with colleagues who are, I mean, straight up racist and say racist things and discriminate against students in ways that are really kind of unbelievable to me.” His response was to “continue to be an advocate for students . . . [and] call out faculty members even when they are senior faculty members that are going to vote on, you know, my dossier and tenure promotion.” Due to resentment some held toward FOC’s attempts to integrate their identities in their work, most of the participants were not able to effortlessly switch between two worlds, that of their own cultural identities and academia.

Proving We Deserve “to Be Here [in the Academy]”

For the most part, FOC struggled to exercise their ability to exist in multiple cultural worlds, because they felt their educational leadership departments, or academia in general, evaluated them by a different standard. For this reason, participants expressed being overly cautious, watching what they said and did because, as Alex, a Latino said, “ You don’t know how it’s going to be used against you.” This sense of being judged based on an unfair or higher barometer than White colleagues caused some FOC to do double the work “to prove themselves in terms of their worth, their merit.” Lloyd shared his perceptions: “Now my White colleagues, take somebody same age, same gender, walks into the door, I think it’s assumed that they deserved to get in [to the professoriate].” Yet, for FOC, there is an additional expectation to prove that they merit even being let in to the professoriate.

For those FOC who did not necessarily do research directly related to educational leadership, who did not graduate from K-12 focused educational leadership programs, or who did not have direct experience as school leaders, or even as teachers, there was additional judgment. Stephanie actually experienced unanticipated backlash from some colleagues she considered friends. They “have like, not only like been not helpful, but have actively tried like to sabotage me.” Albeit, “Coming into ed. admin, like this field, I worried . . . whether it would be a good fit. And I’m proud that I have made myself fit.” Similarly, Rick, an African American male, had never taught in a K-12 school or been a school leader and found that this created “some challenges in terms of my ability to be viewed as legitimate in the eyes of a lot of the students.” Rick felt that the question of legitimacy played out in his course evaluations.

When FOC did rise to the challenge and go above and beyond what was expected, others often expressed their surprise at this accomplishment. Sebastian talked about these conflicting expectations:

I kind of felt like the message was just don’t upset the balance, so be average, but at the same time be a superstar because you’re Latino and you’ve got to publish so they’re speaking out of two sides of their mouth.

Cristina, a Latina, shared how some of her colleagues seemed to convey deficit thinking toward her. On one hand, she felt that she was “rocking it” and was informed by her colleagues that she was “well respected” particularly because “I get my work done. My students like me, I have really high student evaluations.” Yet she felt she “surprise[d] them [colleagues] . . . I think generally as a faculty, I’m good, but I cannot disentangle the undercurrent of deficit thinking that goes hand in hand with my being a person of color.” She explained how at times colleagues, “don’t say you’re ‘articulate’ but they say things like that. Like ‘wow, it’s really good to work with you on this committee because you speak so well.’” She reiterated how she could not separate her colleagues’ racialized or gendered perceptions and expectations of her from her performance as a faculty member, but her awareness of this contributed to her success. “My success as a faculty member of color is no mistake for me because I am always conscious, always, of how I represent, how I’m represented, and how I represent who we are.” Moreover, “Being a young woman of color, even more, I think a lot of people second-guess me.”

John, an Asian male, generally did not speak to issues of race in relation to his experiences as FOC in educational leadership. Instead, he seemed to feel that “we all [faculty] just have individual [experiences] . . . I’ve never felt like it’s been an issue [of race] for me.” However, when probed further, specifically noting the few faculty of Asian descent within the field he described an experience that clearly indicates a sense of double consciousness based on his cultural background and how he feels judged by others. John always wondered,

. . . if people would think, “Is this guy going to have an accent or speak English?” . . . I’m going to make a generalization, my impression is that when you [other non-Asian faculty] do see Asians at an academic conference they are not native English speakers. And I always have wondered, “Are they [faculty and students] going to think that I am, you know, a non-native, and will they listen to me?” . . . Personally I find it difficult to understand sometimes people that have accents, and they [other non-Asian faculty] have this kind of like apprehension about me . . . That’s why I’m kind of accent sensitive . . .

May, who was born in Vietnam but raised in the United States since she was a child, had somewhat similar views to those of John. She felt that while FOC might have varied experiences in the academy compared to their White counterparts, this could not be solely based on race but instead on “the interconnectedness” of a number of factors including one’s racial or cultural background, values, and interpretations of experiences. She admitted, however, that “when people look at you they do see you physically, and then they make the association with your backgrounds and your knowledge and so on.” She described an incident where she was judged by a different standard and racially stereotyped while pursuing her PhD in the Midwest. “People would come to me and be really close, and speak like really loudly in my face,” she said. “I’m thinking why are you yelling or screaming at me? I can understand you perfectly. And the first thing people asked me is [sic], ‘Are you an international student?’” Although she did not describe such incidents as a FOC in educational leadership, her narrative still speaks to the sense of double consciousness that persons of color might experience within academia.

Another area where FOC were often judged by a different standard was in relation to their research. Often it was assumed by other non-FOC that FOC studied issues related to communities of color or that they would automatically be an ideal dissertation advisor for a student of color. Yet when FOC were interested in examining educational leadership issues that pertained to communities of color, the legitimacy of their research was often questioned. At times this resulted in some FOC being urged to not “study certain demographic populations” or else “people will pigeonhole you and put you into this box as a diversity person.”

Barbara was dumbfounded when she submitted an internal university grant and was provided feedback questioning her study’s focus on college access issues for Black students: “Aren’t there enough [Black students] up here [at the university]?” She considered this response racist and “problematic at an institution . . . in a college that promotes inclusiveness, diversity.” Stephanie also reiterated her disdain in being judged by a different standard:

It’s not that White people don’t do research on themselves or their communities, but when they do it is considered traditional, like canon, like scholarship. Right? But when we [FOC] do things on communities that we care about like it’s, you know, some kind of like specialized research or a subset of real research . . . that it’s not real, it’s not traditional.

She recognized how this then “snowballs into other challenges, like the journal that you can then publish it in.” She explained,

The caliber of journals that I am supposed to publish in . . . only some of them are going to look at the kind of scholarship that I do and take it seriously, right? So my outlets are more constrained than my White colleagues.

Moreover, she felt that despite there being

some very social justice minded people here, whose scholarship in particular would lead you to think that there would be an openness here for scholarship that is . . . quote-unquote like non-traditional . . . That has not been my experience.

Jordan also discussed how being a FOC in a predominantly White community resulted in additional commitments that her White counterparts were not expected to do:

I don’t think people in my department get it . . . what a huge commitment it must be on my behalf to be a single Black woman living in this town. I have to be, you know, mindful of being asked to do too much, you know my service is, it’s, it’s exploding.

She was on the editorial board of a journal and was asked by her Department Head to be the faculty chair to organize a campus-wide graduate student research conference. She explained how

being a person of color who writes about issues of race and writes about students of color specifically puts you in that position . . . all the typical things . . . discussed in literature, are happening to me.

In this case, Jordan was referring to the notion of cultural taxation (Padilla, 1994). For many of the educational leadership FOC, the perception of being judged by a different or higher standard based on race and/or other attributes considered “non-traditional” in the field was common.

“Don’t [Just] Sit in the Ivory Tower.” Promote “Social Justice and Equity”

Most participants’ research agendas centered on issues of diversity, and they pushed their colleagues and students to consider scholarship and instruction that veered from “traditional,” “managerial” forms of leadership to “democratic” and “social justice oriented” educational leadership preparation and practices, which was perceived as “uncomfortable” by some White educational leadership faculty and students. They also pushed forth a more all-encompassing social justice agenda by engaging in research within local communities that addressed marginalized students or issues of equity, and by recognizing the need to provide additional supports to doctoral students from underrepresented backgrounds.

Nancy, a Latina who felt she was hired for her focus on diversity issues in educational leadership, found it ironic in her second year of teaching that she was called in to speak with the program coordinator because some students called her “racist” on her course evaluations. Admittedly, she was not surprised by this response from her predominantly White students as this meant she was “doing something right.” Taken aback by the program coordinator’s lack of understanding given the predominantly White student population and her focus on diversity, she said, “I tell you what I will stop teaching, integrating culture and diversity in this program and do as the rest of you if that’s what you want me to do.” Although the program at the time was starting to adopt a more socially just perspective, Nancy was “tired of it” and “felt very taken advantage of” by the program feeling like “the lackey.”

Like Nancy, Anita who was also Latina utilized socially just pedagogical practices in her educational leadership courses but did not necessarily experience resistance from her colleagues as she did from her students. She felt that even when her students resisted, getting them to engage with the literature, critically reflect on their own biases, and contribute to discussions was a success. She admitted that it was “a little bit shocking” to her to see how “amazed” her students were in considering and discussing issues of “race and issues of marginalization and your social identities” for the first time. “As hard as it is to go through,” she said, “I love the mentoring part . . . students really end up being really appreciative in the end. For the most part, most students.” She admitted “that’s always nice ‘cause it makes me feel like, this is why I’m here, right? This is like that on-the-ground work in making a difference.”

Sebastian also noted how his colleagues were disconnected from social justice issues and students’ communities, which was contrary to his approach. “I just don’t sit in the ivory tower and wait for people to come to me . . . it’s time-consuming; it’s a lot, the service to reach different communities and populations and high schools and undergraduate students.” Alex also invested time to make these connections because he saw this work as a small piece in the larger goal of working toward social justice in educational leadership:

If I can’t connect the dots from my role as a professor to the experience of children and communities, then I should question what I’m doing. Because I definitely know my colleagues definitely don’t have that understanding. They say so but [that’s] what drives my conviction to my efforts, my research, my publications, why I do what I do.

Both Cristina and Lloyd also asserted a social justice agenda in their administrative roles in their departments and recognized how their non-FOC colleagues often did not engage in such work. Cristina was on an assessment committee, where they were tasked with “putting together rubrics to measure students on diversity.” She admitted how “There was very, very, very little understanding of what diversity meant, what it meant in the classroom and how we would prepare our teachers for it.” Among her “White counterparts, who were older, tenured, [they] just kind of saw it as something that we had to get done.” Lloyd volunteered to work on the diversity aspect of the strategic plan for his department and college “since no one else wanted to work on it,” and he ended up helping to “develop some goals around increasing the admission, retention, and graduation rates for students of color.” The immediate response from faculty members was, “well, you know, that’s all fine and good but we have admission standards.” Lloyd took this to mean that because they were talking about admitting students of color that obviously this meant changing, or lowering, admission standards, which he contested.

May spoke more broadly about how the field of educational leadership needed to be more tolerant of differences, and how “talking about differences in our ways of thinking, differences in our ways of approaching, of solving problems, you know, methodologically, ideologically” would “take a lot of strength and courage, especially at the leadership level.” In essence, a few FOC worked within educational leadership programs that supported them in developing a hybrid identity to assert a social justice agenda, while most did not have the supports to achieve this level of self-authoring.

“Cultivating Mindfulness” to Work Through “Difficult Situations”

Although all participants navigated departments largely dominated by White, male faculty and perspectives, some FOC seemed more sophisticated than others in using their bicultural skills to traverse this political environment. This was primarily due to FOC’s prior mentoring and knowledge of the potential cultural disconnect they might face in academia and their ability to rely on their cultural assets to balance their personal and professional cultural identities. For instance, Cristina came into the professoriate aware of its individualistic, competitive, and male-centric nature. Her mentor, a well-known FOC in education, prepared her for this struggle inherent in double consciousness:

He taught me that I could be me in whatever I did. And he always taught me that what was most valuable about my research was how I approached it, how I thought about it and that gave me a lot of confidence. On the flip side, I would also say that, I was inspired to pursue the faculty [life] because I knew faculty who were jerks, who talked incessantly about themselves and about social justice that didn’t really do the work . . . And I knew that I, you know, I’m not perfect, but I knew that I could do the job and I knew that I could do it well.

One key element May drew upon to navigate academia, particularly in troubled times, was her spirituality. She did not relinquish her spiritual values or practices in her role as a FOC and instead incorporated aspects of her Buddhist faith in her daily professional, and personal, life by “cultivating mindfulness”:

I use mindfulness in my professional life to deal with difficult situations, as well as to be able to enjoy when I’m in the presence of great company . . . I have to say that has really kept me balanced and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to navigate through some of the changes or responses to situations the way I did, if it hadn’t been for the practice of mindfulness . . . .

Not all FOC were able to navigate being bicultural without it taking an emotional and/or spiritual toll. Nancy expressed her frustration, feeling as if even White allies have no idea of “what this is like in the day to day life” of educational leadership FOC given “we constantly accommodate a 1,000 times a day. And even as hard as we work, we’re still not good enough.” She recollected,

The first couple of years, I remember breaking down at least once or twice with [White female colleague] at her house and saying, you don’t get it. You can be who you are, but I can’t be who I am. Because who I am is not acceptable.

Yet Nancy and the rest of the participants maintained a certain level of resistance, holding steadfast to some of their cultural ways of being that did not always align with academia. All expressed their keen awareness of their race and the importance of not only positively representing their cultural communities but also actively working and advocating for more diversity among faculty and students, as well as equity between the sexes.