Summer break is supposed to be a time to rest, recover and remember that we are human beings before we are faculty members, administrators, advisers, committee chairs, emergency responders, unofficial therapists, budget translators and professional email archaeologists. And yet, even in summer, higher education has a way of following us.
I tried to use this summer to breathe. To step away. To recover some sense of balance after another academic year of shifting policies, nervous institutional language, political attacks and the familiar exhaustion of doing equity work in institutions that often celebrate the idea of justice more comfortably than the practice of it. I wanted to return to the next academic year with renewed clarity, a little more rest and maybe fewer tabs open in my brain.
Then, on the 250th anniversary of this country’s founding, white supremacists marched in our nation’s capital. That image is hard to shake. As the country commemorated its founding promises of liberty, freedom and democracy, organized symbols of hate showed up in public view. And for those of us who work in higher education, the meaning of that moment should not be abstract. The people participating in those marches could be our students. They could be our students’ parents. They could be donors, trustees, elected officials, community partners or, if we are honest, maybe even our colleagues. That is not a comfortable sentence to write. But comfort has never been a reliable measure of truth.
