The white university

 

I've decided to do a little more work today digging in to whiteness, especially how it is reflected in the higher education system where I work.  The image here shows the institution that became the model for higher education in colonized Turtle Island: Cambridge University (King's College, to be precise). The photo is from a visit I made to Cambridge in 2011 when I was giving a conference presentation in a nearby town.  I remember feeling a kind of buzz there, like the reality of being in close physical proximity to this university made me an elite. I felt special just looking at the highly manicured lawn.  I felt like I could belong there--like it wouldn't be a stretch for me to become an academic in these hallowed halls if I wanted to.  The sensations I experienced were optimism, motivation, potential, and possibility.  

At that point, I don't think I had considered the myriad ways the university system, based on what originated in Cambridge, had served me as a white woman.  I had not contemplated the ways in which I was enabled by universities, much less that I had never experienced any significant obstacle while engaged in postsecondary education.  I grew up with a deep-seated belief that I would go to university, that I would be successful in obtaining however many degrees I wanted, and that I would get exactly what I needed out of the experience (the colonial logic was at play here - go forth and conquer).  In fact, when I was graduating from high school I recall feeling a sense of dismay that there were some folks who would choose to go to a technical or applied school instead of a university if given the choice.   

By the time I visited Cambridge, I had intuitively understood that universities don't serve everyone equitably.  I recall a time early in my career when I worked at a centralized student services office.  An Indigenous student had stopped in, distressed that their student account had been frozen.  It turned out that the student's band funding had not been deposited by the tuition deadline, so "the system" automatically locked the student out.  They could not access the library or any student services; technically, they were not even permitted to be attending classes.  The student was desperate - wasn't there anything we could do to remedy this situation?  It turned out there wasn't.  Student accounts refused to accept a special request to re-activate the student's account without tuition payment, even though this was no fault of the student's.    

I knew this wasn't fair and it bothered me, but I did little (if anything) to ask deeper questions or remedy the situation. It wasn't until much, much later that I started to wonder about that student in the context of the system they were attempting to navigate.  I had taken for granted that there would be no obstacles for me in university, whereas obstacles were all the Indigenous student could reasonably expect.  The university was built to serve white people and to explicitly exclude and marginalize Indigenous people.  I saw myself and my ways of thinking reflected everywhere I looked at the university; the Indigenous student did not see themselves anywhere.  I was welcome and I could imagine a successful future; the Indigenous student was faced with a battle each step of the way and was likely to believe that success was neither guaranteed nor likely.  

I realize now that, despite situating myself as an ally, I have been complicit in the harm done to Indigenous people by way of post-secondary education.  I have uncritically accepted my sense of belonging in university and failed to question why it might be problematic.  This is an ethically tenuous cognitive space that I would like to do my best to exit; in turn, it creates all kinds of cognitive dissonance for me.  Does it mean that I shouldn't love universities as much as I do?  Should I be trying to distance myself from the structures and conventions of the institution?  How can I engage with universities in a way that is situated while also pushing at the boundaries?  I have chosen higher education as my area of academic expertise - eep.  How can I advocate for decolonizing change in our systems while continuing to learn more about how I am embedded in and served by them?  

I feel deeply troubled, but this is something I can no longer ignore.