I wanted to disappear. I had literally dreamt of being told that I was not smart enough to finish a PhD, but my dreams neither included a classmate saying my ideas were not creative nor my professor expressing gratitude for the critique. That, however, is exactly what happened.
Though I was fully funded, due to the cost of childcare, I had accumulated more debt in two years of doctoral studies than my bachelors and masters combined. In addition to personal experience, my career and research compelled me toward a dissertation project focused on Black mothers and our relationships to higher education. Because of my research, I was deeply aware that Black mothers carry a disproportionately high portion of student loans (IWPR 2020), so I chose to go back to work full-time in my third year of school to avoid any additional debt. To maintain my funding, however, I had to carry a full-time course load. I was managing an emotionally-taxing student affairs role, school, and family life—including weekly medical appointments for one of my children who has disabilities. The competing demands between family and academic life were intense.
I had never taken a course in Women’s Studies, but I knew that the quality of my dissertation project required me to familiarize myself with key Black feminist thinkers and theories. I had entered the class prepared for rigor and critique, but I had not expected humiliation. My transparency about the ways in which I struggled to comprehend the highly theoretical course readings, and my skepticism that the texts actually responded to the needs of the people for whom they were written, were met with contempt. Some of the feedback was part of the rigorous, intellectual exchange of academia, but this particular interaction was neither academic nor rigorous.
In response to my comments, a classmate shared that she was tired of hearing me talk about how difficult the reading was and that my ideas were not creative. My instructor responded by thanking my classmate for her comments because the class had become “too nice.” They were both people of color. My stomach dropped. I (barely) kept my composure and left class. I never wanted to return. I texted a friend and fellow Black mother doctoral student (BMDS) who responded with screenshots of a passage from Teaching to Transgress:
As feminist activists we might ask ourselves, of what use is feminist theory that assaults the fragile psyches of women struggling to throw off patriarchy’s oppressive yoke? We might ask ourselves, of what use is feminist theory that literally beats them down, leaves them stumbling bleary-eyed from classroom settings feeling humiliated, feeling as though they could easily be standing in a living room or bedroom somewhere naked with someone who has seduced them or is going to, who also subjects them to a process of interaction that humiliates, that strips them of their sense of value? Clearly, a feminist theory that can do this may function to legitimize Women’s Studies and feminist scholarship in the eyes of the ruling patriarchy, but it undermines and subverts feminist movements. (hooks 1994, 65)
There are just two contexts in which I had ever heard of balm. First in the church of my childhood, Jesus was described as the Balm of Gilead. The other context was also during adolescence when I was introduced to lip balm for moisturizing. The words that hooks had penned, however, introduced me to a third, albeit less traditional form. Balm provides protection and healing. Hooks’s words offered both.
For centuries, the role of Black mothers in feminist movements and academia has been contested (Evans 2007; The Combahee River Collective 2015). While neither my instructor nor my classmate explicitly connected their comments to my parental status, my caregiving commitments were the mediating factor that constrained my time to engage in the discipline and course texts. Being a Black mother with competing demands does not negate the legitimacy of my ideas or questions. Being a Women’s Studies novice does not diminish my value or creativity. Hooks’s words protected me from the bitterness of believing the lie that my mothering commitments preclude my legitimacy in feminist movements and academia.
Within the classroom and academia at-large, women of color are subjected to tools of academic hegemony, which utilize assault and humiliation as part of a sociological hazing process (Kelly and McCann 2017). As a maladaptive survival strategy, women of color may be lured into utilizing these practices as well (Perlow 2013). Through identifying the “ruling patriarchy” as the source of oppression, hooks also protects feminists, who themselves have likely been subjected to assault and humiliation from being re-traumatized. Penned balm makes a generous interpretation of my Women’s Studies classroom experience possible.
While hooks did not write with explicit attention towards BMDS, the meaning and consequences of her words offered the healing I needed from enduring an intellectual and emotional “beat down.” Being a Black mother in higher education requires a measure of audacity. Our race, class, gender, and parental status have been used as proxies to legitimize our exploitation and ensure our exclusion (Evans 2007; Nzinga-Johnson 2013). Social conditions related to caregivers and caregiving are conventions of a patriarchal society. Black mothers who choose to venture into doctoral programs are punished for having the audacity to transgress the social expectations created for us (Kaler et al. 2020). Embracing that audacity to resist exploitation and exclusion only to be cut down warrants a need for healing.
Acknowledging a need for healing disrupts false narratives that Black mothers are superhuman. Hooks’s concern is for women whose efforts aim to build new strength to resist forces that have no intention of ceding their power. Through her use of the word fragility, she is not underscoring women’s deficits; instead, she accentuates delicacy. I had entered the class anticipating rigor and critique, but I had not expected humiliation. Her words were the healing balm I needed to recover from the exchange and complete my studies with my wellness intact. Her words reassured me that what I had experienced was not characteristic of feminism. On the contrary, a healthy feminist ethic on her pages and through the kindness of my friend was the balm I actually needed.
Bell hooks made an immeasurable impact on feminism and academia. Her recognition of the ways that patriarchy undermines feminism made a lasting impact on me. She provided protection and healing. She penned balm.
References
Evans, Stephanie Y. 2007. Black Women in the Ivory Tower, 1850-1954: An Intellectual History.
Gainesville: The University Press of Florida.
hooks, bell. 1994. Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge.
Institute for Women’s Policy Research. 2019. “Parents in College by the Numbers Fact Sheet.” April 11, 2019. https://iwpr.org/iwpr-issues/student-parent-success-initiative/parents-in-college-by-the-numbers/
Kaler, Lisa S., Leah N. Fulton, Zer Vang, and Michael J. Stebleton. 2020. “Scholar-Mothers
Navigating Maternal Microaggressions in the Academy: ‘You Should be at Home Snuggling your Baby.’” In Confronting Equity and Inclusion Incidents on Campus: Lessons Learned and Emerging Practices, edited by Hanna Oliha-Donaldson, 59-78. New York: Routledge.
Kelly, Bridget Turner, and Kristin I. McCann. 2014. “Women Faculty of Color: Stories Behind
the Statistics.” The Urban Review 46, no. 4 (Spring): 681-702. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-014-0275-8.
Nzinga-Johnson, Sekile. 2013. Laboring Positions: Black Women, Mothering, and the Academy.
Ontario: Demeter Press.
Perlow, Olivia. 2013. “Parenting Within the Nexus of Race, Class, and Gender Oppression in
Graduate School at a Historically Black College/University.” In Mothers in Academia, edited by Mari Castañeda and Kirsten Isgro, 111-122. New York: Columbia University Press.
The Combahee River Collective Statement. 1977. Library of Congress. https://www.loc.gov/item/lcwaN0028151/.