The Exit Interview I Never Had
This week marks the one-year anniversary of my not being reappointed as department chair in my organization. I vividly remember the details of that afternoon meeting, which was framed within the context of a mid-year administrative review but ended with an announcement that I would not be reappointed in my administrative position for a patriarchal reason that still makes no sense to me.
Maybe I would have been okay with this decision if I had not asked the organization to put measures in place to address issues of racism and sexism, two areas that people didn’t want to call out explicitly and publicly despite evidence that something was abnormally wrong with the dynamics in the organization and with my ability to address issues as they needed to be addressed. The problems were obvious to many, yet nothing was done in ways to address those “isms” and to create sustained changes.
Maybe I would have felt better if the evaluation of my performance during the last year of my term had not occurred at an open faculty meeting (I wasn’t there, thank goodness!) where I heard that people felt as if they had to defend me or had to hear complaints about my social media activity.
Maybe I would have been okay if I hadn’t heard that someone had cried at the end of the meeting or that a woman of color in the organization was thinking of quitting after seeing how hateful people were toward me and my leadership.
To know that that meeting got out of hand and that people were that hateful spoke volumes. I wasn’t surprised, however, because every day was hell. It had been that way weeks after I started the job in 2016.
Yes, there were advocates, but the haters were vicious and manipulative. As one of my colleagues put it, it wasn’t just disagreeing, it was attacking me as if to break me, and there is a difference. This hate was chronic. It kept me up at night. If it wasn’t one person, it was another. There was always someone who wanted to fight. These actions wore on me day after day. My husband saw the weight of this environment on me, and I felt it during my high-risk pregnancy.
Being a leader in this organization was intense, yet I was determined that I would not be defeated in a system that didn’t offer me the support I needed to succeed in it. In hindsight, people said they didn’t know how to support me. They said they didn’t know what support looked like, yet I laid out bold expectations that required shifts in processes, organizational structure, and mindsets. (Looking back, it seems that this support system should have been laid out before my arrival and before I was recruited, but that’s another story for another day.)
Although the atmosphere was terrible, I was determined not to give up. I had earned that position. I had moved my family to this new city. I was bigger than defeat. I had never been a quitter, but was it worth it?
Sure, the right people listened, but there was no action, at least not in ways that stopped the pain. There was no ownership of the root of the problems, and there wasn’t any urgency to make bold moves that would begin to dismantle the systemic racism that was at the heart of the organization and had been before my arrival. At the end of my conversations with any number of leaders, I felt as if I was thrown back into a pit to solve problems that many denied were problems and to face hate that organizational leaders would not address directly.
At times, my mind tried to play tricks on me. Was I seeing what I thought I saw? Was this environment real? If so, why didn’t people say anything? Why didn’t they do anything? After all, many organizational conversations lauded how many women were leaders in the organization.
People of color were not as prevalent in those leadership numbers, however. What I realized was that diversity was limited in scope and that equity and inclusion were often omitted from the diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) discussion. DEI had become bean-counting and optics, a performative action that caused harm in its delivery yet offered no way to engage in meaningful conversations to address hurts. It was a cycle of pain that never stopped.
What I learned soon enough was that to remain in positions of leadership, women of color had to be excellent and conforming. I hoped that collectively, members of the organization could work with me to identify ways for us to confront behaviors that sabotaged my leadership and caused unnecessary drama and stress. (I missed that memo when I was hired, but I received it loud and clear when I was not reappointed.)
At times, this place felt like a high-end prison where innovation was allowed for research and student projects but where questions about inequities in the workplace resulted in swift punishment that moved people to the fringes of the organization. People who dared oppose or question the system were silenced and made examples of so no one else dared speak up. This culture caused pain to majority and minoritized people who were too afraid to say anything for fear of retribution. In this way, the organization did not represent the big DEI messages it proclaimed.
Being in an environment like that for years was painful because it made me feel as if it was my fault for the trauma that I experienced. I had to seek counseling to work that out, and what I know now is that even if no one ever speaks up, something about the experience was wrong. Workplaces are not supposed to be that toxic.
What I signed up for was not what I saw. What happened to me was reminiscent of the plantation and slaves who were not granted freedom because they dared want freedom. This reminded me of people in the U.S. Civil Rights era who wanted equity and equality and who marched and participated in sit-ins until they gained rights promised to them by the U.S. Constitution.
I had never seen anything like this in my lifetime, and I wanted to know what policies and processes existed to address what I experienced. No one answered or had answers that made sense. To this day, I am perplexed at the lack of courage people displayed in the face of situations they said were not right and crossed boundaries beyond written policies.
It takes a lot to be brave, and I realize that of all the education people receive, courage and activism in the face of doing right isn’t common.
There’s a script for situations like the one I encountered. I was supposed to be removed from the position and look for a job elsewhere. If I remained silent and compliant, I could get a decent reference from my supervisor, and my family and I might move to a new place and start over.
I decided to flip the script. I refused that reference because there was a deeper issue at play. I expected for that verbal DEI organizational contract to be real. I became an activist to ensure that no other woman of color leader would suffer from the ignorance present in this organization. I collaborated with my professor colleagues to lead efforts for Black in Engineering, which has evolved to the Academic Leadership Network Inc., a nonprofit organization created through collaborative efforts of Black engineering professionals across the country.
I put myself out there in new ways, realizing that I may never ascend to a new leadership position, especially in this organization. I decided that I would not move my family until we were ready to move. I would lose a title and an administrative pay supplement to tell my story and to fight for others who needed me to fight for them.
One year later, a change is coming in my organization. I don’t see the fruit of my efforts as I thought I would see them, but I continue to make good trouble every day since my appointment ended in May 2020. I revisited my stance about playing diversity and learned new terms such as tone policing, institutional betrayal, and whistleblower gaslighting.
This week is a bittersweet anniversary. I know my leadership potential, but I know my rights too. I am here to help academics become whole. I never want them to go through what I have gone through and to feel that they have to choose between their values and their job security.
Being able to write this article is a sign of freedom I didn’t have a year ago. For that, I am grateful.
