Aliyah Williams
Mya
“I’m such a bad writer.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well…like my organization isn’t good…”
“Yes, I noticed that on your appointment form. When you say organization: it can mean structure, the chronological presentation of ideas, what do you think you are referring to?”
“Ummm, I’m not sure. My professors always comment about it, and suggest I come here?”
Through my experiences as an undergraduate consultant, I’ve encountered a plethora of writers. Writers often enter consultations with the notion that they are “bad writers,” but many of them cannot explain what this means without mentioning their previous instructors. Mya was a first-year student that I became quite close with during my first three months of consulting. Mya was nervous about her professors’ perceptions of her writing. She was concerned whether they would comprehend her argument or support her thinking. I remember a conversation the two of us had. Mya asked me how I became a writing consultant. I revealed my passions for writing and how I enjoyed it throughout high school and college. She is the opposite. She dreaded writing. She felt as though her high school teachers critiqued her writing, but those criticisms did not reflect her character as a high performing student. I was drawn by her experiences. I could relate to them.
“So your high school teacher told you the same thing? That you couldn’t possibly make it through school?”
“No, it wasn’t that I couldn’t progress through academia. I would equate it to something like fear, or judgment. Almost like… why aren’t my white students succeeding just as much as she is?”
Our discussions on “reverse outlines” and grammar, transitioned to reflections of our academic experiences as two black women. Through our conversations, we revealed the gap between what the majority of white students experience and what we have experienced in public primary education. Our high school teachers were predominantly white and middle class. These social identities intersected, conflicting with the surrounding environments that they found themselves teaching in. Their privilege propagated an environment that did not facilitate inclusivity to students’ skills: instead the melanin in our skin, determined our ability to construct sentences.
The Writing Center (UWC) where I work is an interesting learning space, reminiscent of a “fishbowl.” The presence of both undergraduate and graduate level consultants creates the environment I work in. Generally, Writing Centers (WC) are intimate spaces that allow student writers and consultants to collaborate on university level writing. Here, I also encounter that gap. WC pedagogy and literature purports inclusivity, anti-institutional frameworks that should incorporate all students, but still appeals to the white majority. The hegemonic structure of WCs promotes the idyllic representation of English and what should be, instead of what could be done.
“You speak eloquently for a black girl, writing essays in college certainly won’t be a challenge for you”
I remember the words from my 9th grade Humanities teacher looping in my head as they entered my ears. As a high school student, I was confused. These words intruded my mind every time my fingertips touched a key. These words kept my passion for writing hidden. These words defined me. Questions and internal thoughts rummaged my mind. These words did not come from my other teachers. As I trudged through these anxious, rhetorical loopholes, I began to reflect on my future aspirations in pursuing higher education, and worried about the relationships I would foster with my professors in college. Eventually, I learned that Mya heard these same words in high school. I wondered if she doubted her legitimacy as a writer. Did she feel as though her intelligence was tested, or valid?
This essay navigates my lived experience as a black writing center consultant for the purposes of understanding the experiences from marginalized groups. Drawing on prospects derived from narrative perspectives, linguistic theory, and writing center consultation experiences, this essay captures the importance of racial identity and how both writing centers and academia function as racialized spaces. By analyzing the “black dialect” I magnify the relationships between consultant and writer and how racial biases mediate learning practices and mentorship. This raises a question: How can writing centers be more inclusive spaces for under-represented consultants? And how can writing centers implement practices that foster inclusive methods?
What Mya and I shared is a result of linguistic racism, but is this mindset applied to work within WCs? The Ebonic dialect has long been criticized as an expression that deviates from Standard American English. In theory, the term highlights the African roots of African American speech and its connections with languages spoken elsewhere in the Black Diaspora (Rickford, 2002). Furthermore, African-American English has elements in common with certain Colonial dialects of Irish and English immigrants (Voulo, 2012). The “Principle of Linguistic Subordination” describes the biases against particular languages and dialects, based on ethnicity and culture. Instead of taking the time to understand and celebrate linguistic diversity in our midst: we simply stereotype it.
This rich and entrenched racial history of language and linguistic use has evolved into the social interactions I shared with others who looked like me. Standard English was not associated with racial identity until the 20th century, where black children began to attribute “acting white” as speaking white. I did not speak words common within Black culture, let alone write using those phrases. Trying to justify myself to my educators was credulous. Both my black peers and teacher’s surprise in my ability to facilitate acquisition and mastery of the English language became exhausting. I was wasting my ethos by listening to their harmful critiques. Racism within the academic sphere has affected me, where I wasn’t accepted. My writing became isolated. I refused to seek out for help and self-edited my papers. I would disregard my teacher’s feedback entirely. It wasn’t until college that I began to entrust my writing with an educator again. My professors didn’t mention my race. It seemed as if they weren’t blinded by stereotypes of the African American dialect. That showcased how important writing is to me. I wanted to provide my knowledge on academic writing after this realization that my writing is worthy and be a mentor for other students who experienced alienation with their writing. The trials and tribulations of being a black student inspired me to communicate with other writers, regardless of our identities. Consequently, I began working at my university’s writing center during my second year.
Drawing on my experiences as both a black student and writing center consultant, I have to navigate a predominantly white space. A diverse, underrepresented collection of writers enter our doors every day, yet these students desire to be judged based on their mastery of Standard English. How to use “better” words and comma rules are not my personal favorite consultations to get through, but I understand both the racial and social components that are underlined within these requests. The profile of a typical WC consultant is as follows: white, a doctoral student, with degrees in English. I am the exact opposite of what is considered typical. I am a black undergraduate student, who studies Psychology. Understanding my character is extensive to the practical applications of what a consultant’s job entails. When I am collaborating with student writers who share physical attributes or experiences, the consultation becomes more conversational. Not only do we consider the objective terms of writing, but somehow a bridge between technicality and lived scholastic realities are formed. In contrast, to writers who are the majority, I find myself reflecting their actions. If a white writer enters with a certain objective, I simply ensure that the goal is being met. If they are more open to me, I then mirror that behavior back to them. This reflection of writers’ mental schemas and perceptions influence how I consult. I have no more worries of my knowledge on writing, but instead focus on analyzing language use.
To address my question regarding consultant practices that can influence more inclusive methods in WCs, race must first be evaluated and understood through a sociolinguistic lens. Race is a social construct that can be fluid, but the societal structure of politics, economics, and education does not permit this variability for those who identify as non-white (Onwuachi-Willig, 2016). Racial identity is not always clear, but we as humans often associate clusters of individuals into stereotypes. This tunneling approach to race impacts the ways in which language is incorporated into our academic maturity. WCs have been labeled, “academic ghettos” by some scholars to emphasize that they are spatial, yet temporal areas where “events occur that won’t tend to happen elsewhere, as well as a space in which certain attitudes and habits construct the nature of that place,” (Lockett, 2019). Race is not simply color, but culture. Language and race are intertwined. Since becoming a consultant, I have identified that many students cannot express their thoughts via writing, because of strict linguistic barriers. Being able to reflect on Mya’s experiences has permitted me to grasp the concept of intellectual service, such as WC consultations. Communicating with writers who don’t share many similarities to you is difficult but overlooking what is “right” English and looking at ways to promote inclusive English is how consultants can begin to relate to other consultants and writers alike. By placing myself in both a white institution and workspace as an underrepresented student and consultant, I have a newly formed appreciation for language. Consultants’ practices should be focused on how to reflect, not act on linguistic diversity.
The “solution” is not tangible, it requires mental processing that would allow white consultants to reflect on how to be racially inclusive to writers in regard to their linguistic ability and translate those internal thoughts to relationships with minority consultants. Both Mya and I would have felt more inclined to accept critique and be comfortable with our writing if we were not placed in a linguistic bubble defined by racist implications. By doing this, underrepresented consultants will feel more involved and accepted in a writing center. Through this piece, I hope my reflections through the complex analogies of racial inclusivity within university settings provides a groundwork for recognizing deep rooted systematic oppression. Expanding and altering internal practices to help operate marginalized bodies in the writing center to the academic standards that writing centers are meant to theorize, critique, and research, will aid in the re-envisioning of racial interactions among consultants.
References
Lockett, A. (2019). Why I call it the academic ghetto: A critical examination of race, place, and writing centers. Praxis: A Writing Center Journal, 16(2).
Onwuachi-Willig, A. (2016). Race and racial identity are social constructs. New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2015/06/16/how-fluid-is-racial-identity/race-and-racial-identity-are-social-constructs
Rickford, J. R. (2002). What is ebonics (african american english)? Linguistic Society of America. https://www.linguisticsociety.org/content/what-ebonics-african-american-english
Vuolo, M. (2012). Is black english a dialect or a language? Slate. http://www.slate.com/articles/podcasts/lexicon_valley/2012/02/lexicon_valley_is_black_english_a_dialect_or_a_language_.html
About the Author
Aliyah Williams is an undergraduate at the University of Denver pursuing a double major in Psychology and Criminology with a minor in Political Science. She was rewarded the Elsie Lincoln Vandergrift Memorial Award for her high achievement in Psychology. She is currently a third year as a Writing Consultant at the DU Writing Center and has hosted a panel on the importance of identity and writing at 2019 Tutor Con in Denver. Aliyah is also focusing her efforts on the importance of mental health policy within prisons and the impacts our government has on mental health awareness and wellness.