A few days ago, Nehiyaw student Erica Violet Lee shared some powerful words on the importance of her “academic aunties” in helping her navigate the University experience as an Indigenous woman. Her blog entry can be found here: http://moontimewarrior.com/2016/02/05/im-concerned-about-your-academic-career-if-you-talk-about-this-publicly/
As an Anishinabekwe in the academy, I read her opening sentences and I found myself going, “oh kwe, you are nailing it! You got it! Debwe!”
Here is her introduction:
What truths would be written if academics weren’t afraid of losing their jobs? What truths would be written if you followed through, with practice, the type of sovereignty and decolonization you theorize in journals? All the times I’ve heard some version of “I’m concerned about your academic career if you talk about this publicly”: that’s not concern for me. I knew about the systems, I knew the stories about these men. We all do. We all do, because academic aunties gossip. And academic auntie gossip saves lives.- Lee
I felt compelled to add to Erica’s words…motivated by the wise words of some of my own academic aunties who have highlighted the importance of sharing our experiences in academia as Indigenous researchers and educators so that our successors will have a guide.
I get the importance of academic aunties. I get it because, well, I come from a family with many aunties who look out for me.
Aunties who care about my wellbeing.
Aunties who have been there when I needed help.
Aunties who send me the “love u” texts and facebook messages when I am away from home, teaching/working and feeling disconnected and lonely.
When I changed careers and became a professor, it was a challenging, intimidating and downright scary experience. Within my first few months, I went to several meetings and found myself feeling like I was either wearing an invisible jumpsuit or a big flashing “I” (as in Indigenous) sign around my neck. It was extreme. It was hard. It was frustrating. It was isolating. There was no in between. At the same time, I knew I was finally in the right profession. I believed in the overall leadership and direction of my Faculty. I was (and still am) very excited about changes and growth. I was (and will always be) grateful to be an Anishinabekwe teaching and learning within Anishinabeg territory.
I remember talking with my husband about how I felt. He asked me who was there for me to talk to at work? Who could give me advice/offer support? And it was during this conversation when I realized that while there were many intelligent and helpful individuals that surrounded me, the people I felt most comfortable with…the people I felt safe with… the people that I believed would “get it” …were other Indigenous women who had been there for years. The thing is, I wasn’t in the same department as any of these women. I had been to maybe one or two meetings with them. Some of them I had only said hi to once or twice…at most, a short discussion…
But I knew.
I just knew.
I knew they were my aunties.
I felt such a strong and familiar attachment. It really is hard to explain… how you can just sense this powerful, nurturing, fierce, brilliant, understanding, no tolerance for bullshit, mother-bear, ogitchidaakwe-ness presence in the ivory tower.
But, believe me…you can.
I did.
And it is important.
So important.
Because, they really do “get it”.
They have walked the path.
They have hit the road blocks.
They have the bruises/scars.
But…
They have built bridges.
Found alternative routes.
Learned how to carry on with the blisters.
And have done so with integrity, grace and strength.
So miigwetch to all the academic aunties out there.
To the aunties who help raise you up when you feel defeated by the “democratic processes” that are more about “protecting certain individual privileges”.
To the aunties who help remind you that you are strong and intelligent and that your voice has a right to be heard.
To the aunties who are still engaged in their own struggles but still find the strength to take on ours as well.
Academic aunties are instrumental in providing safe and supportive learning and working environments for every Indigenous person who steps foot on a university campus.
Miigwetch nin oshe yag
As an Anishinabekwe in the academy, I read her opening sentences and I found myself going, “oh kwe, you are nailing it! You got it! Debwe!”
Here is her introduction:
What truths would be written if academics weren’t afraid of losing their jobs? What truths would be written if you followed through, with practice, the type of sovereignty and decolonization you theorize in journals? All the times I’ve heard some version of “I’m concerned about your academic career if you talk about this publicly”: that’s not concern for me. I knew about the systems, I knew the stories about these men. We all do. We all do, because academic aunties gossip. And academic auntie gossip saves lives.- Lee
I felt compelled to add to Erica’s words…motivated by the wise words of some of my own academic aunties who have highlighted the importance of sharing our experiences in academia as Indigenous researchers and educators so that our successors will have a guide.
I get the importance of academic aunties. I get it because, well, I come from a family with many aunties who look out for me.
Aunties who care about my wellbeing.
Aunties who have been there when I needed help.
Aunties who send me the “love u” texts and facebook messages when I am away from home, teaching/working and feeling disconnected and lonely.
When I changed careers and became a professor, it was a challenging, intimidating and downright scary experience. Within my first few months, I went to several meetings and found myself feeling like I was either wearing an invisible jumpsuit or a big flashing “I” (as in Indigenous) sign around my neck. It was extreme. It was hard. It was frustrating. It was isolating. There was no in between. At the same time, I knew I was finally in the right profession. I believed in the overall leadership and direction of my Faculty. I was (and still am) very excited about changes and growth. I was (and will always be) grateful to be an Anishinabekwe teaching and learning within Anishinabeg territory.
I remember talking with my husband about how I felt. He asked me who was there for me to talk to at work? Who could give me advice/offer support? And it was during this conversation when I realized that while there were many intelligent and helpful individuals that surrounded me, the people I felt most comfortable with…the people I felt safe with… the people that I believed would “get it” …were other Indigenous women who had been there for years. The thing is, I wasn’t in the same department as any of these women. I had been to maybe one or two meetings with them. Some of them I had only said hi to once or twice…at most, a short discussion…
But I knew.
I just knew.
I knew they were my aunties.
I felt such a strong and familiar attachment. It really is hard to explain… how you can just sense this powerful, nurturing, fierce, brilliant, understanding, no tolerance for bullshit, mother-bear, ogitchidaakwe-ness presence in the ivory tower.
But, believe me…you can.
I did.
And it is important.
So important.
Because, they really do “get it”.
They have walked the path.
They have hit the road blocks.
They have the bruises/scars.
But…
They have built bridges.
Found alternative routes.
Learned how to carry on with the blisters.
And have done so with integrity, grace and strength.
So miigwetch to all the academic aunties out there.
To the aunties who help raise you up when you feel defeated by the “democratic processes” that are more about “protecting certain individual privileges”.
To the aunties who help remind you that you are strong and intelligent and that your voice has a right to be heard.
To the aunties who are still engaged in their own struggles but still find the strength to take on ours as well.
Academic aunties are instrumental in providing safe and supportive learning and working environments for every Indigenous person who steps foot on a university campus.
Miigwetch nin oshe yag