You can hear it, you can feel it, and you must grasp the moment.
I am the leader of a “Predominantly White Institution” — a PWI — and I am a Black man. Like many others in my community, I am struck by recent events and deeply troubled by the realities of this country. For my students, and particularly for my Black and Brown students, I know there is tremendous pain.
Unfortunately, I know these exact feelings because of my own first-hand experiences and personal challenges in navigating academic and professional spaces as a Black man. I have personally felt this tension while studying and working at many predominantly white institutions, including the Latin School of Chicago.
In spite of this, I am motivated by the remarkable moment of change now before us — not only for the country, but for academic institutions.
I graduated from an independent school and matriculated to an Ivy League school. In my freshman year at college, I became immersed in an amazing Black community. I had not been afforded this connection in high school, but in college my community embraced me.
These invaluable relationships gave me confidence and strength. They shaped me. They continue to be a driving force in my life.
I joined a Black fraternity (Que Psi!), learned how to step, reflected on my identity and, in all honesty, had too much fun. I also felt a lingering resentment that I had not been offered a similar experience while in high school, though I got a great education. I was angry.
If I’d had access to social media like Instagram or Twitter back then, I would have posted the hurtful moments I experienced from micro-aggressions and macro-aggressions.
So, was my high school education worth the sacrifice? And why today am I leading a similar predominantly white independent school and grappling with the fact that other students are experiencing the same wrongs done to me?
There is a tradition for human service providers. Educators, social workers, health workers and even police officers choose their public roles because they believe they can make an impact and fill in the gaps of their own experiences.
For me, this was the reason for sacrifice. And it is why so many of us, especially educators, must meet the present challenges surrounding race and education.
This is no simple task. My entire professional career has been spent in rooms where I am the only Black person or one of a few, surrounded predominantly by white colleagues. I have been “the first” in nearly every significant post I have taken — as a teacher, division director and twice as head of school.
Leaders who are “the first” or “the only” often pursue strategic and incremental change. We seek opportunities to take meaningful steps to create a diverse, inclusive and equitable culture that allow the communities we serve to thrive. Often, what might appear to be a tempered approach has been crafted against a threat of professional setbacks or loss of employment.
Today, in this moment of heightened reflections on racial equity — and at a time of great reckoning for predominantly white institutions — my personal beliefs and intuition compel me to ask and answer certain questions: “Why am I where I am?” and “Why do I do what I do?”
There is a renewed call for action for Black leaders. We can hear it, we can feel it, and we must grasp this moment. It is our chance specifically, as Black leaders of predominantly white institutions like the Latin School, to advocate for change that is monumental, not incremental.
We are standing at the doorstep of a national movement. Our students are publicizing the hurt, sacrifices and compromises they have had to endure and make daily to avail themselves of the opportunities that our schools provide. I and the Latin School are ready to listen to these calls.
We must listen to the unleashed voices. We must hear the preponderance of truth that, finally, is being given the light of day.
Our only option is action.
We cannot allow fear and guilt to distract us from the hard work of shifting and redefining the culture of academia. We must use this moment, with humility, to aggressively foster social equity.
Together, we must harness the power of the boards of trustees. We must demand growth in professional development around anti-racism. We must foster greater competence in recognizing and dismantling micro-aggressive moments. We must request evaluations of hiring practices and review all student support and discipline policies.
We must re-examine our schools’ traditions and practices with respect to racial, economic and social inclusiveness.
We can hear it, we can feel it, and we must grasp the moment.
If not us, the Black heads of predominantly white schools and other institutions, then who?
Randall Dunn is Head of the Latin School of Chicago.
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