(Editor’s note: “Chrys Crystal” is a pseudonym. This piece is published under a pseudonym to protect the author from potential retaliation.)
In my first quarter of college, I went to office hours. I told my professor that even though I’m not of the same faith as our readings, I still found the reflective practices in them valuable. This white professor, who was a Jesuit Catholic priest, raised his voice and told me that I didn’t understand the content as I was Buddhist, that I was only capable of believing in concrete things like my ancestors.
After I started tearing up, he said something like, why does everyone always cry in my office. As I walked out of his office, the other staff in the department looked at me in stunned silence as they heard him yelling at me.
As a product of public schools, I was one of the few students in my cohort who was not Christian and who did not come from private school. (By the way, private religious schools are some of the most segregated in the country, in part because of a legacy of white families’ mass exodus from public schools, post-Brown v. Board of Education. They fled to private schools, a safe haven for white families to prevent their children from being in the same schools with children of color.)
I was told constantly by white university staff that I did not follow the proper processes, even ones I helped out–but I had tried everything! I remember that professor literally included all the supplemental readings I shared at their request in their next quarter’s syllabus when I pointed out a lack of diversity in sources. And that professor was still hostile!
Tip #1: My advice for students is, if you have to go talk with a professor: when it’s possible, go with another classmate or friend so you can at least be each others’ witnesses if any weird sh*t goes down. (Ugh.) Otherwise if it’s just your word against a faculty member, things are usually bad.
I remember being told a lot of things. That I’d never get a job, that I’d never find a space that centered people of color, that my ideas were stupid, etc, that I wasn’t a real activist, being judged for being young and “naïve,” “wait until you get into the real world,” lol.
That last part always made me laugh because if people are using whatever power they have to try to suppress your voice, you are in the real world already.
When I was in college, I was slapped with three disciplinary reports for essentially not shutting up about institutional and interpersonal racism. Administrators on a power trip love misinterpreting campus policies, and like to believe that their powers override basic freedom of speech on campus. Students or professors with legal backgrounds can be helpful for these hearings because all types of things happen when you’re alone with someone who wants to suppress your voice.
Tip #2: If you have a disciplinary hearing, bring witnesses and if possible, ask a trusted professor who can take notes and strategize with you. One-on-one meetings with administration or any professor, frankly, are a trap for power dynamics and abuse of power.
Know that the administration may be keeping a close eye on you after successes. Administrators admitted this to me in my disciplinary hearings after a sit-in that exposed sexual and racial harassment in the department.
Staff also admitted that they wanted to limit student power after a few people in student government had supported calls for justice, by reducing access to listservs and demonstration spaces. Some student government incumbents, who were all white, colluded with the administration on this. Know that the students and staff who opposed you will later take credit for your work.
Band together: If you and others are facing disciplinary action or surveillance, gather to share ideas and experiences.
Tip #3: Try not to disclose any information unless absolutely necessary to anyone that works for the university, or during your disciplinary hearing. It can incriminate you or trigger a report from the professor.
They may be required to report things to the school. Even professors with good intentions can be prone to white fragility and white savior mentalities.
Tip #4: If you have the option, live off campus. This way, your housing is not dependent on you being an enrolled student in “good standing” or whatever for each term. If you get disciplined and banned from the physical perimeters of campus, it’s less stressful if you don’t also lose your housing at the same time.
Another benefit of living off campus is not feeling as watched. I hated having students come to where I live or make comments about me right next to me at restaurants near campus. I remember misogynistic athletes coming to where I live to bother me and my roommate when I was not home, because I called them out for promoting and participating in r*pe culture. Though you may not believe in punitive processes, others do and will jump to report you.
Tip #5: Do a risk analysis with your friends and organizers. Take stock of your relative privileges, spread the risk, and when it is safer to take certain risks.
Take calculated risks together. Take note of any stipulations of your scholarships, grants, and loans. Some loans, particularly public/governmental ones, have repayment schedules that are impacted if you go below half-time enrollment (such as if you need to take a break or get suspended). The eligibility for some private scholarships are less dependent on your enrolled status and may have more leeway.
Spread the risk strategically. Do an analysis with your friends on levels of risk-taking. For example, friends who are on academic probation are at risk for suspension or dismissal, and others not on probation may be better positioned to take certain risks. If amongst your group you have friends on student visas and loss of the visa means deportation, discuss how you will keep each other safe.
Use these conversations to discuss what risks you are able to take and what risks you are not able to take. Administrations love to target “leaders” and strong people don’t need strong leaders, to quote Ella Baker. Make it harder for the institution by spreading these risks strategically.
Tip #6: Use secure methods for communicating with organizers. For more sensitive communications, try not to use your school email or school Wi-Fi as the school likely has policies on what students are allowed to do via the school email and Wi-Fi.
Some schools reserve the right to view any messages sent using school email addresses.
Tip #7: Sleep. Eat. Mask up. COVID-19 is still dangerous and can destroy your immune system. The autoimmune stress and the toll of the world is real on our bodies. Though you may feel fine now, protect your body and our communities.
There are ways to participate without meeting ableist standards. No movement survives without Care Work (see Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha’s book).
Tip #8: Build relationships with professors or trusted mentors.
Higher education can be toxic AND there are still professors inside of the system fighting for change. Are there ones who understand? Will they let you take classes virtually if you’re physically banned from campus?
Tip #9: Connect with alumni. Odds are that there are alumni who have been through similar things and are no longer at risk of disciplinary hearings!
You probably don’t need my advice on how to fight the institution, so these are all my tips about survival that I wish I had when I was waiting for my disciplinary hearings and didn’t know anyone who’d been in a similar position.
Do not sacrifice yourself for people who don’t care for you. Keep doing your work and think about the world you want. Look for the people with whom you can build and experience that.
