Symbols are powerful

Affirmative action in higher education and shedding what we’ve outgrown

Affirmative action has been on my mind.

As a Black woman who went to a relatively elite university, I’ve long wondered what role my racial identity played in my admission status. Don’t me wrong—I was an excellent candidate. Second in my class, 4.0+ GPA, great SAT scores and tons of leadership experience by way of my many extracurricular activities. I belonged at my university, no doubt. But from time to time, it was hard not to wonder, Did I earn this in their eyes? I believe so, but do they believe so?

When news of the SCOTUS ruling came out, I felt a swirl of emotions. Initially sadness, with a spark of outrage underneath.

Outrage is an appropriate response to injustice. It is appropriate to be disappointed and angry when leaders make decisions that reinforce structures that have historically excluded people who look like you. But outrage, at least in my experience of it, leaves little room for curiosity. So I did my best not to linger there. When we get lost in our outraged echo chambers, we slowly lose our ability to step back, ask questions and get clear on what’s really going on.

I am not a legal scholar. I’m just a Black woman in America. I experience many privileges in this body. I also carry legacies of felt oppression in this body. It’s a complicated situation, y’all. I don’t say, “It’s complicated,” in an effort to diminish the disappointment. I call it complicated because it is. Affirmative action in higher eduction was never perfect, so I feel no need to defend it as if it was. But affirmative action did symbolize something significant, and symbols matter. In some instances, symbols matter more than the facts do.

Despite it’s limitations, affirmative action in higher education symbolized an active awareness of historical injustice. It symbolized an appreciation for the unique stories, gifts and experiences we each bring to an academic setting. It symbolized an attempt and a desire to right the wrongs of our collective racial legacy. It symbolized care and support for communities that have been long disenfranchised and rejected from the halls of opportunity in our country, even halls built with their very hands. It affirmed the dignity of folks like me. Symbols are powerful. To not have affirmative action in higher education, even as an imperfect and aspirational value, leaves many feeling like, “Dang, they really don’t care about us.” This is the toughest part for me to shake. This is what has drawn up grief up from the wells of my heart over the past few days.

And yet, I find myself hopeful. Why? Because affirmative action was imagined as a temporary adjustment to a centuries old problem. It was always a bandaid, never a cure. It wasn’t meant to last forever. And in a way, its removal creates space for us to think deeper and to dream with a longer timetable in mind. It creates room for us to ask, What do we really want here? What is our actual goal?

Maybe we create legacy admissions for the descendants of the enslaved folks who built some of these colleges and universities with their labor. Maybe we get behind efforts for a truth and reconciliation commission in our country. Maybe we double down on our investment in HBCUs.

When it comes to this ruling, we must grieve what’s been lost. Yes, we must grieve and lament and make our outrage known. And then, we’ve got to get back to work. We have to cultivate and create the world we want. One day, one place at a time.

Over the past week, in my personal life, I’ve had to shed multiple old things I loved but couldn’t carry with me into the next phase of my story. My cute little Nissan Versa Note was hit by a deer and totaled last Monday. Unrelated to the car accident, I also had to get a tooth extracted. There have been some perspectives on faith and marriage that I’ve had to let go of in order to be more present and more loving. A few little things, that when added up have felt really big. I loved my car, but she couldn’t come with me. As silly as it sounds, I loved my tooth, but she was unwell and needed to be removed.

I didn’t choose these things for myself, but they happened. And I’ve been riding the waves of uncertainty, trusting that even in t he grief, a new way is emerging.

I wonder if it’s the same for this whole affirmative action in higher education thing. Due to forces outside of our control, we’re having to let go of what we believed the world to be. And in so doing, we make room for a new way that is surely emerging from within the chaos.

Or so I hope.

Happy Fourth of July, Beloveds. I’ll catch you here next week!