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Dear Department Chair: Letters from Black Women Leaders to the Next Generation
Practical and candid, this book offers actionable steps to help Black women leaders create meaningful success. The reflections and recommendations of the contributors forge a critical and transformative analysis of race, gender, and higher education leadership. With insights from humanities, social sciences, art, and STEM, this essential resource helps to redefine the academy to meet the challenges of the future. Dear Department Chair is comprised of personal letters from prominent Black women department chairs, deans, vice provosts, and university presidents, addressed to current and future Black women academic professionals, and offers a rich source of peer mentorship and professional development. These letters emerged from Chair at the Table, a research collective and peer-mentoring network of current and former Black women department chairs at colleges and universities across the U.S. and Canada. The collective's works, including this volume, serve as tools for faculty interested in administration, current chairs seeking mentorship, and upper-level administrators working to diversify their ranks.
200 pages, Paperback
Published September 5, 2023
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April 14, 2023
A wealth of experiential knowledge from a range of Black and African American professors who've taken on key administrative positions, especially as department chairs in universities.
This text is very much premised in the US academic context, with a little bit of Canadiana thrown in. I wish every American colleague, past, present, and future, would read this.
I loved Dr. Johnnetta B. Cole's decolonizing African proverbs:
"Until the lion tells the story of the hunt, the story will always glorify the hunter. [And] until the lioness tells the story of the hunt, you haven't heard all the stories."
"She who learns must teach, and she who teaches must learn."
"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."
Each contributor tells her story in the form of a letter addressed to an incoming Black woman. Most provide a list of what they've had to do in the role, what they've learned, and the wisdom they've gained. Unlike other memoirs and self-help guides (most far longer than this text overall, let alone each letter individually), every author offers examples in sufficient detail to really grok the situation or what action to take.
For white folks, especially cis men in positions of power, but also white women, there's much to be learned here. These women speak frankly about the barriers, setbacks, and outright hostility they've faced. Getting the position is not enough. Dr. Theresa Rajack-Talley's letter is a must-read on this front. It's not just white men but also white women who benefit from the systems in place, however invisible to us. At the same time, I was a bit disappointed to find that disabled people, genderful folk, and foreigners/immigrants weren't well represented here. Some letter-writers even used the dreaded "he/she," despite the focus on race and gender. We all have our unconscious biases to grapple with.
Now, a more personal note on Dr. Carol E. Henderson's discussion of grace. "Grace" is thrown around a lot in the social justice vernacular. (You can probably already guess how I feel about it ...) It's easy to employ and feels majestically kind, as well as self-aggrandizing. Dr. Henderson defines grace as "giving people something they have not earned, and in some cases, do not deserve." According to her, "All of us fall into these categories at some time in our professional and personal lives." Most importantly, she writes, "If the common good is your objective, then grace is a transformative tool to allow people to reorient themselves, to forgive themselves as they take this journey to a more equitable and inclusive community." Sadly, grace is not often understood this way or practiced so well. I've been "offered" what was called "grace" but was actually an excuse to lambaste and vent, with me as the unfortunate scapegoat. Turns out that weaponizing the language of social justice isn't just something done by superficially-informed outsiders. I'm left wondering how we can move beyond mere terminology and into real action, with bravery. It's all too easy to pick up the words and blast what's up on social media. But that's just another form of performativity and virtue signalling. Perhaps we should role model the idea rather than learn how to use the words. How can we truly grok the concepts and be "doers"? More frighteningly, what should we do when people less privileged than us or located at other intersections mess up, and we can't say anything because of those differences in power? I want to extend grace, even as I grind my teeth in frustration and disappointment. I've been there myself, but we need better from our communities. Maybe this is our lot, but I can't help but wish for a more solid base to stand on.
Thank you to Edelweiss+ and Wayne State University Press for the advance copy.
This text is very much premised in the US academic context, with a little bit of Canadiana thrown in. I wish every American colleague, past, present, and future, would read this.
I loved Dr. Johnnetta B. Cole's decolonizing African proverbs:
"Until the lion tells the story of the hunt, the story will always glorify the hunter. [And] until the lioness tells the story of the hunt, you haven't heard all the stories."
"She who learns must teach, and she who teaches must learn."
"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."
Each contributor tells her story in the form of a letter addressed to an incoming Black woman. Most provide a list of what they've had to do in the role, what they've learned, and the wisdom they've gained. Unlike other memoirs and self-help guides (most far longer than this text overall, let alone each letter individually), every author offers examples in sufficient detail to really grok the situation or what action to take.
For white folks, especially cis men in positions of power, but also white women, there's much to be learned here. These women speak frankly about the barriers, setbacks, and outright hostility they've faced. Getting the position is not enough. Dr. Theresa Rajack-Talley's letter is a must-read on this front. It's not just white men but also white women who benefit from the systems in place, however invisible to us. At the same time, I was a bit disappointed to find that disabled people, genderful folk, and foreigners/immigrants weren't well represented here. Some letter-writers even used the dreaded "he/she," despite the focus on race and gender. We all have our unconscious biases to grapple with.
Now, a more personal note on Dr. Carol E. Henderson's discussion of grace. "Grace" is thrown around a lot in the social justice vernacular. (You can probably already guess how I feel about it ...) It's easy to employ and feels majestically kind, as well as self-aggrandizing. Dr. Henderson defines grace as "giving people something they have not earned, and in some cases, do not deserve." According to her, "All of us fall into these categories at some time in our professional and personal lives." Most importantly, she writes, "If the common good is your objective, then grace is a transformative tool to allow people to reorient themselves, to forgive themselves as they take this journey to a more equitable and inclusive community." Sadly, grace is not often understood this way or practiced so well. I've been "offered" what was called "grace" but was actually an excuse to lambaste and vent, with me as the unfortunate scapegoat. Turns out that weaponizing the language of social justice isn't just something done by superficially-informed outsiders. I'm left wondering how we can move beyond mere terminology and into real action, with bravery. It's all too easy to pick up the words and blast what's up on social media. But that's just another form of performativity and virtue signalling. Perhaps we should role model the idea rather than learn how to use the words. How can we truly grok the concepts and be "doers"? More frighteningly, what should we do when people less privileged than us or located at other intersections mess up, and we can't say anything because of those differences in power? I want to extend grace, even as I grind my teeth in frustration and disappointment. I've been there myself, but we need better from our communities. Maybe this is our lot, but I can't help but wish for a more solid base to stand on.
Thank you to Edelweiss+ and Wayne State University Press for the advance copy.
Displaying 1 of 1 review