“What does it mean to do anti-racist work in school psychology?”
Recently, a graduate student from another school psychology program contacted me about collaborating on a project he was conceptualizing. This student desired my participation because I am one of a few school psychology scholars whose work centers race and qualitative methods. He was interested in exploring what it means to do anti-racist work in a predominantly White field that centers quantitative methods. This young scholar's work aligns directly with mine. His email made me seriously consider what doing this type of work really means to me professionally.
Doing anti-racist work in school psychology means taking risks and being both rejected and celebrated. In my experience, risk taking involves asking research questions that seek to explore and uncover the racialized dynamics of the field. It means using research methods that are not commonly used, understood, valued, and accepted. Early in my career, it meant believing enough in my work to have the confidence to present in front of leading scholars at elite institutions and being expert enough to respond to questions that challenge the validity of centering Black voices in school psychology. It meant the risk of rejection for jobs at institutions that were not aligned with my vision for what I would like to contribute to the research and profession. Risk involved not knowing if I could ever get published in school psychology while knowing that the currency for tenure and promotion is publications. Risk involved sending my work to top journals only to get several revise and resubmits followed by rejection letters. Risk involved accepting a position at an institution—Queens College, CUNY—directly aligned with my anti-racist research agenda and hoping that I could figure out how to make my professional life work with my personal life. Early on, risk involved deliberately choosing to mentor and publish with my students—many of whom are women and of color—to ensure that these students have opportunities and access similar to many of their White peers in the field. This was a risk because researching and writing with more established scholars in the field provides greater certainty of getting published. Risk involved knowing that—in many ways—I would be on this journey of doing anti-racist work alone.
The risks I have encountered have helped me to understand that when one does this type of work it may not be celebrated in the way that other work is celebrated. You see, anti-racist work is not neutral. It strikes a chord—whether positive or negative—and it should. This is particularly true of anti-racist qualitative work because readers hear the actual voices of those most impacted by racist structures, systems, and people. I believe if my work resonates with readers—making them feel sad, uplifted, angry, contemplative, validated, moved to make a change, and/or inspired to explore more, then the work is actually celebrated. The ultimate reward is having young people share with me how my work helped them through their programs, having graduate educators ask questions about how to support students of color, and seeing the work of junior faculty who use my research and writing as a springboard for further investigation. Doing anti-racist work means that being celebrated comes in ways you might not recognize if you are not attuned to the purpose of anti-racist work. When anti-racist work fulfills its mission, it is celebrated in the lives and outcomes of those most impacted by racism. What I have really learned about doing anti-racist work in the field of school psychology is that it is not about me. It is bigger than me. Although the personal and professional risks were great, it never really was about me. It is about the people of color in school psychology programs and children of color in our schools whose lives may be improved just a little bit by my choice to embark on this journey of doing anti-racist work in school psychology.
S. Proctor
Recently, a graduate student from another school psychology program contacted me about collaborating on a project he was conceptualizing. This student desired my participation because I am one of a few school psychology scholars whose work centers race and qualitative methods. He was interested in exploring what it means to do anti-racist work in a predominantly White field that centers quantitative methods. This young scholar's work aligns directly with mine. His email made me seriously consider what doing this type of work really means to me professionally.
Doing anti-racist work in school psychology means taking risks and being both rejected and celebrated. In my experience, risk taking involves asking research questions that seek to explore and uncover the racialized dynamics of the field. It means using research methods that are not commonly used, understood, valued, and accepted. Early in my career, it meant believing enough in my work to have the confidence to present in front of leading scholars at elite institutions and being expert enough to respond to questions that challenge the validity of centering Black voices in school psychology. It meant the risk of rejection for jobs at institutions that were not aligned with my vision for what I would like to contribute to the research and profession. Risk involved not knowing if I could ever get published in school psychology while knowing that the currency for tenure and promotion is publications. Risk involved sending my work to top journals only to get several revise and resubmits followed by rejection letters. Risk involved accepting a position at an institution—Queens College, CUNY—directly aligned with my anti-racist research agenda and hoping that I could figure out how to make my professional life work with my personal life. Early on, risk involved deliberately choosing to mentor and publish with my students—many of whom are women and of color—to ensure that these students have opportunities and access similar to many of their White peers in the field. This was a risk because researching and writing with more established scholars in the field provides greater certainty of getting published. Risk involved knowing that—in many ways—I would be on this journey of doing anti-racist work alone.
The risks I have encountered have helped me to understand that when one does this type of work it may not be celebrated in the way that other work is celebrated. You see, anti-racist work is not neutral. It strikes a chord—whether positive or negative—and it should. This is particularly true of anti-racist qualitative work because readers hear the actual voices of those most impacted by racist structures, systems, and people. I believe if my work resonates with readers—making them feel sad, uplifted, angry, contemplative, validated, moved to make a change, and/or inspired to explore more, then the work is actually celebrated. The ultimate reward is having young people share with me how my work helped them through their programs, having graduate educators ask questions about how to support students of color, and seeing the work of junior faculty who use my research and writing as a springboard for further investigation. Doing anti-racist work means that being celebrated comes in ways you might not recognize if you are not attuned to the purpose of anti-racist work. When anti-racist work fulfills its mission, it is celebrated in the lives and outcomes of those most impacted by racism. What I have really learned about doing anti-racist work in the field of school psychology is that it is not about me. It is bigger than me. Although the personal and professional risks were great, it never really was about me. It is about the people of color in school psychology programs and children of color in our schools whose lives may be improved just a little bit by my choice to embark on this journey of doing anti-racist work in school psychology.
S. Proctor