The Uncivil Latina

Current State of Knowledge

While there is a growing body of literature and research examining the lives and experiences of faculty of color in academia, work specifically on Latinas is relative sparse, and the examination of Latinas in criminal justice and criminology is nonexistent. Studies that have explored the lives of faculty of color in general suggest that they often have to navigate hegemonic institutions where they feel stress and pressure to conform (Gutiérrez y Muhs et al., 2012; Padilla & Chaávez, 1995). Three themes emerge in the narratives of Latinas—interactions with students, academic marginalization, and institutional racism (i.e., unfair and bias treatment by administrator).

Method

This study employs an autoethnographic method to recount the experience of a criminology and criminal justice Latina faculty member of Puerto Rican heritage (the author). Autoethnographies focus on systematically analyzing one’s experiences in order to understand a broader context. This approach centers on the lived experiences of a person and is based on the assumption that experiences become a way of “knowing” (see Ellis, 2004; Holman Jones, 2005)

The following autoethnography centers on the author’s experience while employed in a major research university’s criminal justice school. The events described span a 30-month period (pre- to posttenure) at said university. The author is the first in her family to enter the halls of academia. Her family is working class and she was raised in an inner-city community located in Newark, NJ. Growing up in an inner city shaped her identity and also her interest in criminology. She learned the importance of hard work and never to back down when faced with a challenge. She entered academia with the hopes of not only helping her city (Newark, NJ) combat the problems of violence it has historically faced but also wanting to be a role model to the women of her community and family. The following section recounts her experience. Since it involves writing of the “self,” the section is written in first person.

The Narrative

My life in academia started out being very uneventful. I knew what the expectations for tenure were and worked hard to not only meet but exceed them. I knew the stereotypes that Latinas in academia faced so I made it a point to become a mainstream criminologist. I did not want to be typecast as the Latina who does “Latina research.” When I went up for tenure, I was very confident. I was successfully reappointed during my third-year review with very positive feedback. I had exceeded the publication requirements, established research independence, had funded grants, and my teaching evaluation scores were above the school’s average. I did not think anything could go wrong.

During the fall of my tenure review year, everything changed. After I submitted all of my tenure materials for review to the school’s personnel committee (PC), I was contacted via e-mail by the chair of the committee, whom I refer to throughout the remainder of the document as the Benevolent Patriarch. ¹ He requested that I meet with the PC in order to clarify some negative student feedback in the Student Instructional Rating Survey (SIRS), so that they could respond in the event that the college’s tenure and promotion committee inquired about those comments. ² I found the request troubling, given that this was the first time in 5 years that questions about my teaching arose. In fact, during my third-year review, the Benevolent Patriarch wrote in his recommendation to the Director: “She receives positive ratings, even in the large required courses which pose special challenges for sustaining student’s interest and enthusiasm.” In addition, I had expressed concerns to him over the few negative student comments I received during my first 2 years in that university, and he explicitly stated to me that in that university “all you have to do is show up to class.” He had also publicly acknowledged during faculty meetings that the “the typical disgruntled student fill[s] out an online form while others don’t,” and another full professor who had served in the College Tenure and Promotion Committee stated in other faculty meeting that “SIRS data are not helpful and that having been a member of the College Tenure and Promotion Committee she did not think teaching ever came up during their meetings.”

Despite my hesitations and concerns, I accepted the meeting request. In preparation for the meeting, I asked for a copy of the student comments that were troubling. He provided me with a list of 23 negative comments written by students. He acknowledged that he counted some students more than once because he attempted to present themes and that this method “artificially emphasize the negatives and distort the overall record.” He also acknowledged that many of the student reviews were “glowing.” Upon examining the comments, I noticed that they represented 15 student evaluations and that 11 of these occurred prior to my third-year review. One comment stated that I used swear words in the classroom, which admittedly I did to illustrate pedagogical concepts to students. I taught courses on violence and homicide, so I used examples to illustrate the transactions of violence. As a result, I thought the PC would understand my vernacular choice. I also noticed that many of the hand-selected comments chosen by the Benevolent Patriarch were personal attacks that had nothing to do with my teaching pedagogy or effectiveness as an instructor but instead focused on my personality (e.g., she is the rudest person I have ever met, she has no sense of decency, etc.). I was able to trace the majority of the comments to incidents that occurred early in my career with Anglo male students. Given my findings, I prepared a teaching brief, outlining positive comments and achievements in order to present a more balanced report of my teaching, and I circulated the document to the PC members in preparation for the meeting.

A month later, I met with the PC. I did not anticipate any problems, so I did not seek guidance and mentoring on how to handle that meeting. The meeting started with one of the members, stating, “I was taken aback by the aggressive tone of your teaching memo.” His comment set the tone of the meeting, and I perceived I was being ambushed and attacked. The negative comments proceeded with another professor attempting to convince me that my teaching was subpar and that the data presented in the teaching brief I prepared were flawed because not all the students I had taught submitted an evaluation, so I was missing students who would have written negative comments. Another professor, whom I refer to as the Feminist, directly stated, “I have never seen evaluations like this. If these were my evaluations I would be mortified, appalled, and ashamed.” I found her comment offensive, but also hypocritical since I had discussed my concerns about course evaluations with her, and she explicitly advised me not to worry because students were sexually objectifying me because I was a young female and that in her evaluations students had accused her of being “mentally ill.”

Admittedly, I got angry and defensive. While trying to hide the anger and repress the tears that wanted to roll down my checks, I attempted to have an open dialogue with them and provide the context that gave rise to the 15 negative comments (over the span of 5 years and approximately 600 students), but everything I attempted to say in my defense did not come out right. I lost all ability to adequately respond and defend myself in a calm and collected manner. Although I tried to justify and explain myself, I did not accept their assertions, acquiesced, said I was sorry, or backed down and that resulted in their verbal abuse to escalate. The verbal abuse continued for approximately 40 minutes until one of them, who had remained silent during the entire ordeal, pointed out that the committee was spending too much time focusing on the negatives and not the many positives of my dossier. After this statement, the Benevolent Patriarch immediately ended the meeting and stated that the committee “wanted me to acknowledge and self-reflect on the inappropriateness of my behavior.” ³

I left that meeting and the PC immediately took a vote on whether to recommend tenure or not tenure. Despite what had transpired minutes earlier, all of the PC members voted in favor for tenure with the exception of one who abstained. My hard work paid off. I met or exceeded every objective metric for tenure so they had no choice but to vote in my favor. Although they voted for my tenure, the experience left me feeling angry and resentful because I believed that they voted for me because they had no other choice and not because they valued my contributions. I felt that my hard work was undermined, and that I was robbed of the opportunity to rejoice in my accomplishment and feel proud of attaining what I worked and put my life on hold for.

In the spring semester, I arrived on campus ready to forget about the meeting, but I learned via my research assistant (RA), an African American female, that someone had filed a complaint against me, alleging I engaged in improper behavior while proctoring an exam during a previous semester. My RA learned about the complaint after being interrogated by one of the associate deans of the college and the Interim Director ⁴ of my school. She was asked by the Interim Director not to discuss their conversation with anyone, including myself. Nonetheless, she informed me immediately, because according to her, she “thought I was being set up.” As soon as I learned of this, I attempted to discuss this complaint with the Interim Director, but he informed me that he could not talk to me about it and that he never mentioned my name.

The event prompted me to talk to faculty within my school and the college and I learned that there was a “secret” investigation in an attempt to verify the accuracy of an accusation that I had abused a student in my class. ⁵ The complaint was ultimately dismissed because the accusation was unequivocally false. The student I allegedly mistreated was never identified nor located, and I was at an academic conference presenting my research on the morning the alleged incident occurred. I was never formally notified of the complaint’s dismissal and only found out after I followed up with the Interim Director via e-mail. I then made a formal request for a copy of the complaint for my records, and he informed me that the memo was no longer available because he shredded it. ⁶ I later learned that the Feminist was the faculty who logged the false complaint based on a rumor started by the students who worked in her research center.

Two weeks later, I received an e-mail from the Benevolent Patriarch informing me that a memo was placed in my mailbox and personnel file. ⁷ The memo was in response to the meeting we had the previous month and it outlined the concerns they continued to have because “In the aftermath of our meeting…we [they] feared that [I] you had neither heard nor understood our [their] concerns about the teaching evaluations.” The memo was four pages. The language was curt, insulting, disparaging, and in many instances exuded the PC’s superiority over me—a Latina. I realized that the statements I made in an effort to provide context in the meetings were misconstrued and taken as an admission of my wrongdoing. The memo ended with “We have demonstrable evidence of improper conduct in the classroom and violations of the University Policy on Tolerance and Civility.” That mere statement, casted and labeled me as UNCIVIL, AN UNCIVIL LATINA.

The months that followed were difficult. I desperately sought help within the university structure in order to have the infamous memo removed from my file, since proper university procedure was not followed by the PC, and neither the Benevolent Patriarch nor the PC had any authority to place documentation in my file, but nobody did anything. ⁸ The administrators I met with would empathize with me, particularly the women of color, but after I left their office nothing occurred. The Faculty Grievance Officer’s (FGO) response was: “they really don’t like you in your department” and “why are you so alarmed, you got tenure.” I was also not able to file a grievance, given the university’s policy which stated that I can only file a grievance against an administrator, and no one on the PC including the Benevolent Patriarch was an administrator, and the director was interim. I also had to identify a specific policy that was violated, and there was nothing I could find to fit my situation. Eventually, my calls and e-mails stopped being answered. My pleas to multiple administrators fell on deaf ears. I felt like a leper in the university. The friends I thought I had distanced themselves. I stopped being asked out for lunch and invited to faculty gatherings. Every time I attempted to talk to my “friends” in public, I could sense their unease. That made me become angry, bitter, and paranoid. I internalized the uncivil label and became what they said I was—an Uncivil Latina.

The next semester, the Director came back from sabbatical. I hired an attorney and with his help I requested that the Director remove the memo from my file. My anger and paranoia also led me to make a Freedom of Information request to obtain the e-mails from the Interim Director, Benevolent Patriarch, and Feminist regarding the events that transpired. I wanted to know how the events unfolded, I wanted documentation of the false complaint written about me, and most importantly, I wanted to know if they were still attempting to disparage my name. I also pointed out to the Director that the school did not have a formal tenure and promotion written policy and that it was in violation of university policy for not having one. After months of going back and forth, I achieved three victories. First, the Director removed the memo from my file. Second, the Director started a formal process to write and put in place a formal written tenure and promotion policy. Third, I got the e-mails of the three main actors in my situation.

The e-mails came back mostly redacted. I was able to see that the subject of conversation was me, but 90% of the content was blacked out. The little pieces of text I was able to read showed how some of the PC members ridiculed and mocked me. In an e-mail exchange between the Benevolent Patriarch and another full professor (another Anglo male), they wrote:

ha-no need to even joke-we can definitely stand behind everything that we’ve said and done. I don’t see any basis for a legal claim-except if she gets an attorney who wants to steal her money by pushing forward with meritless claims. If she show our memo to the FGO or any entity on campus, she’s only going to make herself look bad-so I hope she does not do that to herself.

Most importantly, I learned that the Benevolent Patriarch was continuing to shop the removed memo around the university. He had even contacted the university’s Associate Provost for Academic Human Resources to discuss my case and inquire about what could be done to keep a record of it. It appeared that he could not accept the fact that his ruling, and that of the PC, was overturned as a result of their abuse of power.

The Benevolent Patriarch also started meeting some professors, particularly junior nontenured female faculty, to discuss my situation. According to some of my colleagues, he requested meetings with them to discuss personnel matters. Obviously, given he was the chair of the PC, they thought they were going to discuss their own promotion. During the meetings, however, he proceeded to talk about me, showed them or discussed my student evaluations (i.e., the “problematic” comments), and then alluded that they should talk to me because my discussing of what occurred was “making me look bad.” On one occasion, when the junior faculty he was meeting with told him “she is my friend,” he allegedly responded with “I am glad you are her friend because she is not making any.”

The events prompted me to have my attorney draft and send a cease and desist letter to him, which was copied to the university’s administration. I thought it was finally over, but it was not. Months later, I was notified by the Director that the college had ordered him to conduct an investigation of the events, more specifically, the contents of my cease and desist letter. Apparently, the college was alarmed about the events that transpired after the Benevolent Patriarch met with the dean and threatened to leave the university (needless to say, I was never granted a meeting with the dean). I was 9 months pregnant at the time so when the Director notified me of this, I asked him to wait until after my maternity leave.

My request was not respected, apparently, due to pressures from the college dean. Three weeks into my maternity leave, I was notified of the investigation with an e-mail that went out to the entire faculty asking for individual meetings to discuss the allegations that had been made about the Benevolent Patriarch. I remember being at home alone with my 3-week-old son and sobbing uncontrollably while trying to nurse him after reading that e-mail. The fact that the place I had given 8 years of my life to could not respect what I considered a precious time in my life was crushing. The fact that my pleas, a productive Latina faculty, ⁹ were completely ignored by the university, but the complaints of an Anglo upper-class male who had little to no grant awards, who had few publications in peer-reviewed prestigious outlets in criminology/criminal justice, and who did little to no mentoring of graduate students, were not, was even more crushing. Naturally, given the birth of my son, I decided to forego the investigation. I decided to focus on my child because I feared that further involvement was going to hinder my ability to care for him. ¹⁰

The results of the investigation came out months later in a memo. Not surprisingly, the Director’s memo stated that no evidence of inappropriate action on the part of the Benevolent Patriarch was found and that it appeared that instead of being malicious he was actually trying to help me. The memo stated that although he did meet with faculty to discuss my situation and that said faculty expressed unease and discomfort stemming from those meetings, he did not do anything wrong so there was nothing to move forward on. The Director’s memo finally marked the end of my painful ordeal. I remained the Uncivil Latina, while the patriarch was wrapped in the cloak of benevolence due to his “attempt to help me.”

After a lot of reflection on the events that transpired, I realized one day that I was not a victim. “The academy is littered with the bodies of those who could not adapt” (Segura, 2003, p. 48), but my body was not one of them. I successfully earned tenure without playing the role of the grateful outsider. My “incivility” was also the catalyst for changes in the school. The antiquated PC was disbanded removing the Benevolent Patriarch’s leadership position. The school now has a written formal tenure and promotion policy, which will help new assistant professor employed in that school. I was also able to use my experiences in university-level committees, like the Woman’s Advisory Board to the Provost and a special committee that developed recommendations to the university on ways to retain faculty of color. ¹¹ I was also successfully recruited by what’s arguably a more prestigious school, which not only employs various top scholars in the criminal justice and criminology fields, but it is also more accepting of cultural diversity.

Take as a whole, what I considered to be a painful ordeal served to empower me. These experiences taught me that faculty of color do not need to conform to the role of grateful outsider and that we can use our experiences to make a difference. Most importantly, I learned that incivility does not necessarily have to be a bad thing. In fact, it might be just what faculty of color need to do in order to undo the status quo of a system that has oppressed so many.

Making Sense of It

The narrative presented embodies themes that are prevalent in the literature documenting the experiences of Latinas in academia. The author experienced challenges in the classroom that translated into a few negative evaluations, which lead to marginalization, and institutional racism. The author recounts how a few negative experiences with some students were more than enough to negate her accomplishments and her standing within the school. At the root of those interactions were conflicts that occurred in the classroom during the first years of the author(s) academic career, with students she believed were attempting to challenge her authority as a professor due to their own gender and ethnic biases. Similar challenges in the classroom are not uncommon in the lives of faculty of color (Harlow, 2003; Lazos, 2012). Faculty of color, particularly females, are more likely than their Anglo peers to receive negative student evaluations (Harlow, 2003; Lazos, 2012). Scholars posit that the challenges stem from the faculty not conforming to the images students have learned to respect and expect in the classroom—Anglo males (Harlow, 2003; Vargas, 1999).

The PC’s response to the few negative evaluations also exemplifies the challenges posed by colleagues. Similar to what the literature suggests, the author’s colleagues either did not understand the nature of the evaluations and the resulting behavior of the author, or where themselves bias. Instead of attempting gain a better understanding of what could have been the reasons for the evaluations, they accepted the stereotypes. As a result of the poor treatment received, the author reacted defensively, which in turn reinforced her colleagues stereotypes. This pattern is often portrayed in the literature. Agathangelou and Ling (2002) present various accounts of female faculty of color who were reprimanded and treated unfairly by their colleagues due to a few negative student evaluations.

The narrative presented here also illustrates the marginalization expressed by Latinas in the literature when they fail to comply with the power structure. The author was marginalized by the power structure in her school when she refused to adhere to the request of the faculty with “power.” As posited by Sellin (1938) and Vold (1958), the dominant group in her school (the gatekeepers) used their power to contain the threat to their dominance over of the school’s conduct norms. In doing that, she was painted as a deviant.

In hindsight, the author traces the reactions of the PC members to events that date back before to the described meeting. More specifically, the author traces the entire situation to the fact she did not accept or play the role of grateful outsider. From the moment the author set foot in the university, she established her research independence. She did things on her own, and in doing that she did not take on the role of subordinate by the power structure in the school, particularly the Feminist (which appears to be an unwritten rule for women in the school). The author also mistakenly thought she was equal and did not adhere to the nonwritten rules of being a quiet assistant professor. She mistakenly thought she had the right to opinions about school issues. Her apprehension of becoming the subordinate and thinking she was equal were her sins.

Riva-Holly (2012) discusses the concept of “igualada” in academia. An igualada is a “subaltern who wishes to possess the same riches and privileges as her upper class employer” (Riva-Holly, 2012, p. 287). As per Riva-Holly (2012), igualadas are punished and put in their place by their superiors. In essence, the author was an igualada. She did not stay in her place. She commented about school issues and even attempted to make changes to the curriculum. She erroneously thought she was one of them. In fact, her close friends would often joke and say that she thought she was a “White male.” She challenged the status quo, broke the unwritten rules of silence and obedience, and for that it appears they attempted to punish her (Agathangelou & Ling, 2002; Riva-Holly, 2012). Indeed, it appears that the “inappropriate behavior” the Benevolent Patriarch really wanted her to reflect on was not her behavior in the classroom, but more the inappropriateness of thinking she was one of them, not adhering to the unwritten rules in the school about the need to become the Feminist’s subordinate, and not playing the grateful outsider role. Given that the information used by the Benevolent Patriarch to require her attendance to the infamous meeting was inaccurate, it appears that the purpose of the meeting was simply to put in her place, just like an employer does with igualadas.

The author cannot purport to know the motives of the Benevolent Patriarch, the Feminist, PC members, or administrators who did not follow-up on her complaints, but it is not far-fetched to surmise that the author was not treated in the same manner as other faculty in her school had been treated. While the author does not have evidence of what occurred during the tenure and promotion meetings of others, to her knowledge, she was the first in her school to be treated in such a manner. In addition, to her knowledge, more serious complaints against Anglo male faculty had been made, such as allegations of psychological abuse lodged by RAs and instances of improper derogatory behavior in the classroom, and those males appeared to breeze through the promotion process with little issue. Additionally, the fact that she was also the first Latina to go up for tenure in the school begs the question of whether the unfortunate events were simply a coincidence.

Institutional bias was also evident in the response by the university. A secret investigation took place in order to confirm her inappropriate actions, where she was not given due process rights or the ability to defend herself. Coincidently, another female of color, the author’s RA was brought into the investigation in what is arguably an inappropriate manner. In addition, the author sought the help of the institution for over a year, and all her pleas were either dismissed or ignored. The institution also protected itself by redacting information from the Benevolent Patriarch, Feminist, and Interim Director’s e-mails that might have served as evidence of bias and improper behavior on the part of the administration and the PC. ¹² The institution acted differently when the Benevolent Patriarch, an Anglo male, was offended. Not only did an investigation take place, but it was done with immediacy without even respecting that one of the parties was out on maternity leave. Although it all might have occurred due to timing issues, it certainly raises legitimate questions about whether the difference in treatment was based on gender and ethnicity. Overall, her experiences mirror those presented in the various narratives of Latinas in other institutions—she was marginalized by colleagues, treated unfairly, and the institution did nothing to assist her. The literature suggests that these patterns are due to biases rooted on gender, race, and ethnicity on the part of administrators (Gutiérrez y Muhs et al., 2012; Vargas, 1999).

Taken as a whole, this study illustrates the culture conflict that exists in some academic institutions. The entrance of faculty of color into the academy, with their distinct cultures and perspectives (i.e., the diversity the academy purports to want), may have sparked the conflict evidenced throughout the literature and in the account presented here. As Sellin (1938) posited, the dominant group dictates what is normal and accepted; hence, the outsiders who have distinct norms automatically become deviants within that social space. Indeed, in the specific case presented in this article, the behavior of the Benevolent Patriarch and PC members suggested a belief on their part that they were the final arbiters in the determination of proper behavior. The PC’s implicit pejoratives throughout the entire situation, and language like “you had neither heard nor understood,” manifested the parochialism of its members and a desire to impose their conduct norms on a colleague who had a different perspective. It also manifested a belief of superiority over Latina, who was not like them (i.e., Anglo and/or male).

Group conflict over the maintenance of power and the status quo as defined by Vold (1958) is also evident. The literature and narrative presented here exemplify how the university can use its power to marginalize, censor, and put in their place individuals who challenge it. As evident in the narratives, senior faculty, particular those from the dominant group, often has a strong belief that their way of doing things is the correct way (Agathangelou & Ling, 2002), so they attempt to impose their values on other faculty and use their status to outcast those who do not adhere to their set standards.