Abstract
This paper presents a critical dialogue between Black women scholars that examines how they navigate and resist institutional expectations while creating new pathways for survival and flourishing in academia. Drawing from in-depth conversations with Drs. Brittany Friedman and Kris Marsh, we explore how Black women scholars are actively rejecting the false burden of institutional transformation while developing innovative strategies for personal and collective well-being. The dialogue reveals several interconnected themes: the reframing of rest and self-care as forms of resistance, the creation of support networks that extend beyond institutional boundaries, and the importance of embracing multi-dimensional identities that transcend academic roles. Particularly significant is the emergence of innovative forms of activism that prioritize Black women’s right to “exist, have dreams, have love, joy, and passions” rather than sacrificing personal well-being for institutional change. Through their candid exchanges about mental health, mentorship, and mutual protection, the scholars demonstrate how Black women in academia are creating alternative models of intellectual engagement that honor their full humanity while advancing collective liberation. This work contributes to broader conversations about racial justice in higher education by documenting concrete strategies for survival and resistance while challenging traditional narratives about institutional transformation.
Keywords
Personal Reflexive Statement
This conversation brings scholars together during a moment of heightened institutional and symbolic violence against Black women in academia, where we are often tasked with cleaning up systemic messes we did not create. Drawing from Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us,” this discussion examines how the expectation to both fix and maintain systems designed to exclude us creates particular burdens on marginalized scholars. It’s a frank conversation that engages in complexities around conservative ideologies, strategies for change, and the vital importance of community for both survival and thriving in hostile spaces.
We are breaking free of the false burden of creating transformational change in our institutions. Rather, we will use our gifts, energy, time, and love to magnify the light of our students, in particular other Black women. I also owe the title to Dr. Marsh, who mentioned it during our conversation. In these exchanges, we see each other fully—not just as scholars, but as Black women wearing our crowns with dignity, recognizing and affirming each other’s humanity in ways the academy often fails to do. Our experiences become stories, and those stories become wisdom—wisdom that lights the path forward for those who come after us. I am honored to share these moments of truth-telling and collective knowledge-making with you.
Introduction
As Black women scholars in academia, we continue to face unique challenges and expectations, particularly regarding institutional transformation and diversity initiatives (Henry and Glenn 2009; Matthew 2016). While our universities increasingly emphasize diversity and inclusion, we often bear disproportionate responsibility for these institutional changes while simultaneously navigating our own career development and personal well-being (Griffin 2016; Nicol 2024; Settles et al. 2020). This burden of institutional transformation, combined with our ongoing challenges of navigating predominantly white academic spaces, creates what Smith (2004) describes as “racial battle fatigue”—the cumulative effects of racial microaggressions and institutional racism that we experience daily.
The title “Not Like Us” captures the central tension we explore in this dialogue: Black women scholars who must navigate predominantly white academic spaces while maintaining our authentic selves and rejecting imposed expectations. “Not Like Us” reflects both our distinctive experiences as Black women in academia and our deliberate choice to break from institutional expectations that we sacrifice our well-being for diversity initiatives. We wear our crowns by celebrating our intellectual contributions and cultural heritage, while simultaneously breaking from the burden of institutional transformation that is disproportionately placed on our shoulders. Throughout this manuscript, we demonstrate how Black women scholars are creating alternative models of success that honor our full humanity while challenging institutional demands that would diminish it, which we term strategic flourishing.
We face particular challenges in sociology departments, where we are often expected to serve as both subject matter experts and embodied representatives of diversity initiatives (Aldridge 2008; Ross and Edwards 2016). Despite making up a small percentage of faculty in sociology departments nationwide, we are disproportionately tasked with mentoring Black students as well as other students of color, serving on diversity committees, and leading institutional change efforts (Turner, González, and Wood 2008). Our dialogue between three Black women sociologists—Dr. Brittany Friedman, Dr. Kris Marsh, and myself, Dr. Alicia Brunson—offers critical insights into strategic flourishing, or how we are actively redefining our relationships with institutions and creating alternative models of success and support.
It is important to acknowledge that our different positions within the tenure hierarchy shape our strategies for navigating academia. Dr. Marsh, as a Full Professor, speaks from a position of greater institutional security and authority, which affords her more latitude in challenging institutional norms. As the first Black woman to progress from assistant to associate to full professor in her department’s history, her perspective reflects both the challenges and possibilities of long-term institutional persistence. Dr. Brunson, as an Associate Professor, occupies a middle space with increased stability but ongoing promotion considerations. Dr. Friedman, as an Assistant Professor, navigates these institutional dynamics with the distinct vulnerabilities of pre-tenure status, demonstrating how strategic flourishing can be adapted across different career stages. Throughout our dialogue, we deliberately address how power differentials affect one’s ability to implement these strategies, offering specific guidance for junior scholars who may face greater risks when resisting institutional demands. This range of positions strengthens our analysis by illuminating how Black women’s resistance strategies necessarily evolve across career stages while maintaining core principles of self-preservation, the right to thrive, and collective support.
Our conversation is particularly timely as universities grapple with persistent inequities in retention, promotion, and workplace culture (Griffin and Reddick 2011; Matthew 2016). Moreover, this work emerges during a critical moment of political repression and anti-intellectualism movements, where academic knowledge production, especially by marginalized scholars, faces increasing scrutiny, devaluation, and funding cancellations. As institutions simultaneously demand diversity while undermining the intellectual contributions of Black women scholars, our dialogue serves as both documentation and resistance. We position our experiences and strategies as essential knowledge for navigating these contradictory expectations, particularly as universities profess commitments to inclusion while institutional practices often reinforce exclusion. Through candid discussion of our experiences and strategies, we challenge traditional narratives about institutional transformation and offer innovative approaches to professional fulfillment and collective support. Our dialogue reveals how we are rejecting imposed burdens while creating powerful networks of mutual aid and mentorship, building on long traditions of Black feminist thought and praxis (Collins 2000; Cooper 2018).
The format of this piece—an intimate conversation between colleagues rather than a traditional academic article—is itself a methodological choice that reflects our commitment to Black feminist epistemology and represents a form of resistance to conventional academic norms. By structuring our work as a conversation, we build upon a rich tradition of Black women’s knowledge-making that centers lived experience, relationship, and orality (Collins 2000; hooks 1989). Similar approaches appear in Dillard and Okpalaoka’s (2011) “The Sacred and Spiritual Nature of Endarkened Transnational Feminist Praxis in Qualitative Research,” Williams et al. (2005) “Learning to Read Each Other,” and Boylorn et al.’s (2014) “Sitting at the Kitchen Table.” These works, like ours, recognize that knowledge emerges not just from individual analysis but through collective meaning-making and story-sharing.
In presenting our dialogue, we have maintained the authentic voice and language of each speaker while occasionally condensing longer exchanges for clarity and readability. Editorial notes indicate where significant condensation has occurred. All quotes accurately represent the speakers’ intended meanings, and we have prioritized including statements that directly support our theoretical framework and key assertions. This approach to presenting conversation as scholarly evidence builds on Black feminist traditions of valuing experiential knowledge and oral testimony as legitimate forms of data (Few, Stephens, and Rouse-Arnett 2003). Through careful curation and transparent presentation of our exchange, we invite readers to engage with both our theoretical framework and the lived experiences that inform it.
Our dialogic approach challenges the conventional academic emphasis on disembodied, decontextualized knowledge by foregrounding our relationships and shared experiences as sites of theoretical insight. Collins (2000) emphasizes that in traditional African-diasporic oral knowledge systems, which were maintained and formalized during slavery, active collaborators rather than passive observers emerge through the communication process. These participants connect through the sound and meaning of spoken words, creating a dynamic exchange where all parties contribute to knowledge creation through their engagement. Our dialogue thus represents not merely a stylistic choice but an epistemological stance on free and creative expression that values connection, relationship, and the wisdom that emerges through authentic exchange. At this point you might be asking yourself, why? Because, they not like us.
This format also allows us to model the very forms of solidarity and mutual support we discuss, demonstrating rather than merely describing the power of Black women in conversation with one another. By presenting our unfiltered exchange, complete with moments of affirmation, challenge, and strategic planning, we invite readers to witness how knowledge is co-created through dialogue and how resistance strategies are developed through a collective process. In this way, our methodological approach itself represents a form of resistance to academic conventions that often privilege individual authorship, disembodied analysis, and formalized presentation over collective wisdom, embodied knowledge, and authentic voice. 1
Theoretical Framework: Black Feminist Thought, Racial Realism, and Resistance
Our dialogue is grounded in Black feminist theoretical traditions that recognize the unique positionality of Black women in academia and society more broadly. We draw from several interconnected frameworks to analyze our experiences and develop strategies for survival and resistance.
First, we build upon Collins’ (2000) foundational work on Black feminist thought, which emphasizes the importance of self-definition, self-valuation, and the creation of independent knowledge claims within oppressive systems. Collins’ framework helps us understand how our experiences as Black women scholars constitute specialized knowledge that challenges dominant narratives within academia. Our dialogue exemplifies what Collins calls “safe spaces”—contexts where Black women can speak freely about their experiences without fear of judgment or retaliation.
We also engage with Jackson’s (2022) work in “What Black Women Taught Us,” which illuminates how Black women’s intellectual and organizational labor has historically created pathways for liberation while often remaining unacknowledged. Jackson’s framework helps us articulate how our strategies of mutual support and intentional disengagement constitute not just personal survival tactics but contributions to a larger intellectual tradition of resistance. As Jackson notes, Black women scholars have long created “underground networks” of support and knowledge-sharing that function as alternative institutional structures—a practice we explicitly continue through our emergency support systems and mentorship approaches.
Our analysis further incorporates Cooper, Morris, and Boylorn’s (2016) work on crunk feminism, which emphasizes the importance of authenticity, directness, and emotional expression in Black feminist practice. The Crunk feminist collective’s emphasis on “real talk” and creating spaces for Black women to express their full humanity informs our dialogue’s candid discussion of institutional challenges and personal strategies. Crunk feminism is the ability to speak freely about one’s experiences and constitutes a form of liberation—a principle reflected in our conversation’s format and content.
Our analysis further develops the concept of self-care as resistance, building on Lorde’s (1988) foundational assertion that “caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” This framework is essential for understanding how Black women scholars’ deliberate practices of rest, boundary-setting, and nourishment constitute political acts that challenge institutional exploitation and serve as core components of strategic flourishing. Jordan-Zachery’s (2017) work on Black women’s self-recovery emphasizes how self-care practices create spaces of refuge and regeneration that sustain resistance to oppressive systems. Similarly, Gumbs, Martens, and Williams’ (2016) exploration of radical self-care in “Revolutionary Mothering” demonstrates how nurturing oneself becomes a necessary foundation for sustained liberation work and enables the kind of strategic flourishing that our framework advocates.
The concept of self-care as resistance is vividly illustrated in our dialogue when Dr. Marsh describes her practice of “Mental Health Mondays” exemplifies what Maparyan (2012) terms “self-healing as social change”—a deliberate withdrawal of labor that challenges the extractive demands of academic institutions. When Dr. Marsh openly discusses therapy and encourages students to resist institutional exploitation, she enacts what Evans and Moore (2015) describe as “strategic refusal”—a conscious rejection of institutional demands that would deplete one’s physical and mental resources.
By framing self-care as resistance, we build upon Jackson’s (2022) analysis of how Black women’s intellectual labor has historically been exploited while creating pathways for liberation. Our strategic disengagement from institutional transformation efforts exemplifies this tradition of resistance through the protection of our intellectual and emotional resources. This theoretical approach allows us to understand rest not as withdrawal from political engagement but as a necessary foundation for sustained resistance and intellectual production.
We also draw on Bell’s (1992) concept of racial realism, which acknowledges the permanence of racism and advocates for a pragmatic approach to navigating racist institutions without expecting their fundamental transformation. This racial realist perspective resonates with contemporary cultural expressions of Black resistance, including Kendrick Lamar’s globally popular song “Not Like Us,” where he critiques Drake for appropriating aspects of Black culture for personal and financial gain without genuine commitment to the culture. When Lamar declares “You run to Atlanta when you need a few dollars / No, you not a colleague, you a fuckin’ colonizer,” he articulates a broader critique about exploitative relationships that extends beyond hip-hop to academic institutions. The song has become an anthem for Black people precisely because it names the difference between authentic belonging and extractive engagement—a distinction central to our academic experiences. This racial realist perspective is embodied in our dialogue through statements like “No, we are not colleagues. You a colonizer”—a frank acknowledgment of the historical and continuing power dynamics within academia that mirror the cultural appropriation Lamar critiques (Lamar 2024). Our strategic disengagement from institutional “diversity work” further exemplifies this racial realist approach, as demonstrated in Dr. Marsh’s statement: “I’m not trying to change these institutions, period, full stop.” This approach reframes success not as institutional transformation but as personal and collective flourishing despite institutional limitations.
The racial realist framework allows us to acknowledge what Dr. Marsh articulates when she states, “These institutions don’t love Black women. They never have. They never will.” Rather than investing our limited energy in attempting to reform systems that have historically and consistently marginalized us, we redirect that energy toward supporting each other and creating alternative spaces of intellectual engagement. This is not defeatism, but rather a strategic reallocation of resources based on a clear-eyed assessment of institutional realities and possibilities.
Building on these frameworks, we propose a model of strategic flourishing that integrates four key components:
Intentional Disengagement: Strategically withdrawing energy from institutional transformation efforts to preserve personal resources
Collective Protection: Creating formal and informal networks of support and accountability
Self-Care as Resistance: Recognizing that preserving one’s well-being constitutes political action
Multi-dimensional Identity: Cultivating and honoring identities beyond academic roles
Figure 1 illustrates how these components interact to create a sustainable approach to academic life for Black women scholars, one that prioritizes personal and collective well-being while acknowledging the reality of institutional limitations.
This framework illustrates how four interconnected components create a sustainable approach to academic life for Black women scholars: (1) Strategic Disengagement from institutional transformation burdens, (2) Collective Protection through mutual aid networks, (3) Self-Care as Resistance through practices like rest and boundary-setting, and (4) Multidimensional Identity cultivation through creative pursuits outside academia. The framework prioritizes collective support over individualism, agency over victimhood, and wellness as a political act, centering personal and collective well-being while acknowledging institutional limitations.
To make this framework more actionable, we outline specific strategies for each component:
1. Intentional Disengagement:
● Selectively decline diversity committee appointments that don’t align with personal priorities
● Establish “protected days” (like Dr. Marsh’s Mental Health Mondays) where institutional demands are not addressed
● Redirect service efforts toward mentoring other Black women scholars rather than institutional transformation
● Develop clear criteria for evaluating which institutional initiatives warrant engagement
2. Collective Protection:
● Create emergency support networks with clear activation protocols (like Dr. Marsh’s “cheesecake” code)
● Establish regular check-in systems with other Black women scholars across institutions
● Develop coordinated responses to institutional harm (including strategic use of social media)
● Form formal mentorship committees that distribute support responsibilities
3. Self-Care as Resistance:
● Normalize therapy and mental health support through open discussion and modeling
● Schedule regular, non-negotiable time for rest and restoration
● Celebrate rather than apologize for periods of rest
● Document and validate self-care as an essential scholarly practice
4. Multi-dimensional Identity:
● Actively cultivate creative and intellectual pursuits outside academia
● Build community connections beyond academic networks
● Mentor students in developing full identities beyond professional roles
● Resist institutional pressures to separate personal and professional identities
Each of these strategies can be adapted to different institutional contexts and career stages, providing concrete pathways for implementing the strategic flourishing framework.
This framework extends existing scholarship by emphasizing agency rather than victimhood, acknowledging institutional limitations without surrendering to them, and creating concrete pathways for Black women’s flourishing in academia. Our dialogue demonstrates how these theoretical principles translate into daily practices of resistance and community-building that can be adapted and implemented by others in similar positions (Table 1).
Practical Implementation Strategies for Strategic Flourish.
Conversation
Breaking Free of False Burdens
The opening exchange of our dialogue immediately establishes a central tenet of our strategic flourishing framework: the deliberate rejection of institutional transformation as Black women’s primary responsibility. Dr. Marsh’s response exemplifies what we theorize as intentional disengagement—a conscious redirection of energy away from institutional change toward personal and collective well-being. This stance directly challenges academic expectations that position Black women as both diversity symbols and transformation agents.
Let’s talk about this idea of being expected to transform institutions. How do you navigate these expectations while staying true to yourselves and your priorities?
The conversation revealed how Black women scholars are actively rejecting the burden of institutional transformation to focus their energy where it matters most.
Look, I’m going to be very clear about this - I’m not trying to change these institutions, period, full stop. What I’m trying to do is get my paycheck every two weeks on Friday. These institutions don’t love Black women. They never have. They never will. What I am going to do is pour into my students, especially my Black female students. They’re the ones who need us most.
I tell them straight up - I see my therapist every Monday at 10 o’clock. I say that everywhere because my students look at me like “Dr. Marsh got it all together.” I tell them, “Only because I see my therapist every Monday morning!”
Dr. Marsh’s frank assessment—“These institutions don’t love Black women. They never have. They never will”—embodies the racial realist perspective that grounds our framework. Rather than investing energy in futile institutional reform efforts, she redirects her labor toward student mentorship, demonstrating how strategic disengagement enables more meaningful engagement with those who can benefit most from her support. Her open discussion of therapy exemplifies our principle of self-care as resistance, using her platform to normalize mental health support for Black women students.
In our extended conversation, Dr. Marsh elaborated on her approach with students, explaining how she candidly warns them about institutional realities. She emphasizes that academic institutions often seek superficial diversity without fundamental structural changes, and she prepares her students to recognize this dynamic. Dr. Marsh’s mentorship includes frank discussions about how these spaces were not designed for Black women and how to navigate systems that desire their presence primarily for appearance rather than for their intellectual contributions.
You know what really resonates with me about what you’re saying? We are multi-dimensional people as Black women. We are not solely professors - we are people. That’s where true freedom lies, I think, in freeing oneself and recognizing our multi-dimensional needs and desires, not stifling them for the Academy. 2
Dr. Friedman’s assertion of multi-dimensional personhood directly challenges academic institutions that seek to reduce Black women scholars to their productive capacity or diversity function. This insistence on full humanity represents a core component of our strategic flourishing framework, refusing the institutional demand that we compartmentalize our identities or sacrifice personal fulfillment for professional advancement. Her words illuminate how maintaining multi-dimensional identity becomes an act of resistance against systems that would diminish Black women’s complexity.
The Power of Rest and Self-care as Resistance
These Black women professors approach self-care and rest as resistance. When I look at how they establish boundaries, Dr. Marsh stands out for her bold approach to protected time:
I have my mental health Mondays. The mantra is I do all the things that I want to do. And none of the things that I have to do.
My students understand my mental health Mondays. They’ll text me or email me - everybody has my cell phone number - they’re like “Dr. Marsh, I know you’re on the golf course. And it’s a mental health Monday.”
I’m struck by how they actively work to reframe rest from something shameful into something worth celebrating:
One of my students, a mentee in another country, said, “Oh, Dr. Marsh, I apologize. I took some time to rest, and I apologize that you may feel like I may have ghosted you.” And I was like, listen, do not apologize for rest. In fact, I want to congratulate you. We congratulate people when they get a publication. Where do we congratulate people when they decide to rest?
I think that to Kris’s point, there is power in rest and fortifying oneself. We deserve to exist, too. We deserve not to constantly be planning for battle and strategizing. We deserve to just exist, have dreams, have love, joy, and passions.
I find it particularly meaningful how they actively mentor younger Black women academics.
I just want to train my Black females to make sure that they understand how to balance this and the entire situation that they’re having to navigate through. I’m trying to actively get them to think about how to not let these institutions, whatever institution is, ABC or XYZ - do not allow them to eat you up and spit you out alive.
Building on this foundation of intentional disengagement, our conversation reveals how Black women scholars are redefining self-care from individual wellness practice to collective political action. The strategies our dialogue documents—from protected mental health days to the celebration of rest—constitute what we theorize as resistance through self-preservation. These practices challenge institutional expectations of constant productivity while modeling sustainable academic practices for the next generation.
Building Networks of Support and Sisterhood
The individual practices of self-care and boundary-setting our dialogue documents gain their full power through collective implementation. Our conversation next turns to how Black women scholars are creating networks of mutual support that extend beyond traditional mentorship models. These networks embody our principle of collective protection, creating formal and informal systems that can respond immediately to institutional harm while sustaining long-term resistance efforts.
Can you talk about how Black women scholars are building support networks and what role community plays in navigating academia?
The conversation revealed how Black women academics are creating systems of mutual support that extend beyond institutional boundaries. Dr. Marsh began by emphasizing the vital importance of nurturing non-romantic relationships (also known as friendships):
And one of the things that I talk about. . . is how we really need to spend more time in these non-romantic nurturing relationships, ie, friendships. And a lot of times, we talked about not being in a relationship and how they want to be in a relationship. It is like, no, no, let’s clarify. You want to be in a romantic relationship. We are in relationships every single day.
Dr. Marsh’s reframing of relationships challenges dominant narratives that isolate Black women or position them as inherently difficult to work with. Her emphasis on nurturing non-romantic relationships speaks to our framework’s recognition that sustainable resistance requires community investment beyond professional networks. This approach to relationship-building creates the foundation for the emergency support systems our dialogue later documents, demonstrating how seemingly personal choices about friendship become essential infrastructure for collective protection.
Dr. Marsh actively challenges common narratives about Black women’s relationships, demonstrating how organic connections can blossom:
I just got back from the Bahamas . . . and met two women. And we’re like, okay, we’re going to be best friends. We’re going to be BFFs . . . The whole argument of Black women can’t get along, miss me on all of that. And who’s putting that conversation out there to begin with? 3
I have been an apprentice in a spiritual herbalism collective with Karen Rose . . . In my cohort, all of the women and non-binary people are mostly people of color. And then I would say the biggest percentage is Black women . . . What’s been amazing is that outside of our weekly lessons, we have our WhatsApp, and people are connecting in little groups.
Beyond Traditional Activism
The support networks our dialogue documents serve multiple functions, including the redefinition of activism itself. Rather than limiting resistance to traditional forms of institutional engagement, our conversation reveals how Black women scholars are creating innovative models of political action that center well-being and collective care. This expansion of activism connects directly to our theoretical framework’s emphasis on self-care as resistance and intentional disengagement as strategic choice.
How are you all thinking about activism and resistance in this moment? What forms can that take beyond traditional approaches?
The conversation revealed how Black women scholars are redefining activism and creating new pathways for change. Dr. Marsh began by positioning self-care as a form of resistance. She articulated how redefining success on one’s own terms constitutes a powerful form of resistance. She discussed how academic systems often measure a scholar’s worth through service commitments, particularly diversity initiatives, but explained that rejecting these externally imposed metrics represents a radical stance. Dr. Friedman emphasized that establishing personal standards of accomplishment and value allows Black women scholars to preserve both their dignity and energy—a perspective that aligns with our framework’s focus on intentional disengagement as a form of strategic flourishing.
I think self-care is a very clear example of activism, and you gotta prioritize ourselves. We have to prioritize our mental and physical health. That is why I really have my mental health Mondays, and I think it is a form of activism. Because we’re in a leadership position. We want to model for our students, all students, but in particular our Black female students.
Dr. Marsh’s positioning of self-care as activism demonstrates how our framework reframes seemingly individual practices as collective political action. By modeling mental health Mondays for her students, particularly Black women, she creates what Collins (2000) describes as “safe spaces” where alternative ways of being become visible and possible. This approach exemplifies how strategic flourishing operates simultaneously at personal and political levels, challenging institutional norms while nurturing the next generation.
Social media emerged as another powerful tool for accountability:
Institutions don’t like social media, and social media is a beautiful thing, because you can call somebody out on social media. And I’m not sure that these institutions can change, but they can feel uncomfortable because they do not want to be drug through social media.
We see on the public stage that bad departments, bad institutions, and bad actors are put in the public eye because of the bravery of Black women having the courage to put them on social media. And often, social media is the last resort after trying to go through internal channels.
Dr. Marsh advocated for strategic disengagement:
I’m not trying to change these institutions, period, full stop. I’m not trying to collaborate, period, full stop. What I’m trying to do is get my paycheck every two weeks on Friday. I’m not putting my energy and effort there . . . If we make our own, I think it’d be a very different conversation.
Nourishment and Multi-dimensional Living
Let’s talk about life beyond academia. How do you think about maintaining your whole self while navigating these institutions?
The scholars emphasized the importance of living full, nourishing lives beyond their professional identities. Dr. Friedman spoke about embracing multiple creative pursuits:
I love writing creatively, and I love film. I also work on documentaries, and that’s one of my favorite ways to think sociologically and blend my identity as a poet with sociology . . . I just love that work. I love bringing stories to life on the screen, and I have just completely thrown myself even more into it.
She emphasized this wasn’t just about hobbies, but about honoring one’s whole self:
We have to remember that we are multi-dimensional people as Black women. 4 We are people. We are not solely professors, we are people . . . I am Brittany. And what makes Brittany happy, what makes me feel creative and fulfilled, is what I need to prioritize.
Dr. Marsh shared how she builds community beyond academic spaces:
And I’m going to do a book talk in Cambridge on February 25. And there’s a Black women’s group there. And we’re going to do like Valentine’s event or Gall-entines, or wherever you call it, on how to make friends later in life.
The conversation turned to how pursuing joy becomes essential resistance:
I have been an apprentice in a spiritual herbalism collective with Karen Rose . . . Empress Karen said to us, like, you know, when you start this process like it’s gonna, it really changes you . . . when she first taught us nourishment, it was it, she chose that because she knows that this group will do that for you, if you show up, and you know, put your heart in it.
We deserve to not constantly be planning for battle and strategizing. In order to defeat injustice, we deserve to just exist, have dreams, and have love, joy, and passions. To be all that our ancestors dreamed we could be. That reality in itself is winning.
They want you to believe that you are a human doing and not a human being. 5
Direct Support and Solidarity
The theoretical principles our dialogue articulates require concrete implementation mechanisms to become practically useful for other Black women scholars. Our conversation’s documentation of specific support systems—from emergency contact protocols to coordinated social media responses—illustrates how collective protection operates in practice. These strategies translate our framework’s abstract principles into actionable approaches that can be adapted across different institutional contexts and career stages.
Can you talk about the concrete ways you’ve developed to support and protect each other in academia?
The scholars discussed creating systems of mutual support and protection. Dr. Marsh began by sharing her emergency support system:
I’m going to leave you my cell phone number . . . because if you feel like someone has done something egregious to you: racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, any or all of the above, by being a Black woman, and you want to snatch somebody at your department. Before you snatch them, give me a call– my cell phone number–(323)422-7373 . . . the code word is cheesecake. If you call me wherever I am, except for Monday, I will stop what I’m doing. 6
She emphasized that this support must be immediate and accessible:
I would not give it if I didn’t expect you to use it . . . I tell all people that the code word is cheesecake . . . I will stop what I’m doing. We’ll get back on track and decide if you need to snatch them because sometimes you want to snatch these people up in here.
The specificity of Dr. Marsh’s emergency support system—complete with code words and immediate response protocols—exemplifies how collective protection requires both formal structure and genuine commitment. This system transforms the theoretical principle of mutual aid into practical reality, creating accountability mechanisms that can respond to institutional harm in real time. The accessibility of this support, including the shared phone number, demonstrates how senior scholars can leverage their relative security to protect more vulnerable colleagues, embodying the career-stage adaptations our framework requires. In reviewing our dialogue, we want to clarify that our approach to mentorship explicitly rejects the toxic academic tradition of “I went through it, so you have to.” Instead, our philosophy embodies the principle “We paid our dues, so you don’t have to.” While not directly stated in our recorded conversation, this protective stance was evident throughout our exchanges.
This protective mentorship represents a radical departure from traditional academic models that often normalize suffering as a rite of passage. By intentionally working to shield mentees from institutional harm, we challenge the notion that academic success must entail personal sacrifice or trauma. Such protective mentorship prioritizes the mentee’s well-being rather than institutional expectations. Our sharing of strategies for boundary-setting, self-protection, and institutional navigation creates pathways for the next generation of Black women scholars to advance without internalizing harmful academic norms or sacrificing their mental health and personal fulfillment.
Dr. Friedman described the importance of formal mentorship networks:
I will say that I’m happy that I have a very strong mentorship committee that is working on my case and helping me a lot along the way . . . I think that’s what I try to also tell my students, especially my Black woman mentees, is, you know, prioritize what makes you happy and what makes you feel like your light is shining.
The conversation turned to strategies for addressing institutional resistance:
I put a little bookmark, and I’m gonna think about how are we about to shake this up. So that one, y’all are held accountable, you’re outed for your behavior, and then once it is all said and done, we will victoriously go out and sail off into the sunset in our new lives.
Dr. Marsh described how social media can be used for collective protection:
For example, so and so’s about to tweet this. We’re all going to be retweeting and sharing the information . . . It’s powerful. If you look at every incident where some sort of cover-up in this way has been exposed in our personal and professional lives, typically, it is Black women who tend to be at the center as the whistleblowers.
Conclusion: Reimagining Academic Success and Support for Black Women Scholars
Our dialogue reveals a revolutionary framework for how Black women in academia can thrive through collective action, mutual support, and radical self-preservation. Our conversation illuminates several interconnected strategies that challenge traditional academic paradigms while creating sustainable paths forward. These insights build upon existing scholarship on Black women’s experiences in academia (Collins 2000; Griffin 2016; Matthew 2016) while offering novel approaches to resistance and community building.
This strategic flourishing framework we have outlined connects directly to existing scholarship on racial realism and Black feminist resistance. By acknowledging the limitations of institutional transformation while creating alternative paths to success and support, we build upon Bell’s (1992) racial realist approach while incorporating Jackson’s (2022) emphasis on Black women’s knowledge as a form of resistance. Our strategies of intentional disengagement, collective protection, self-care as resistance, and multi-dimensional identity development can be adapted by other Black women scholars navigating similar institutional challenges. As Figure 1 illustrates, these components work together to create sustainable paths forward that prioritize well-being without abandoning collective progress. 7 The framework we propose differs from traditional approaches to diversity and inclusion by centering Black women’s agency rather than institutional needs, emphasizing collective support over individual resilience, and recognizing the political dimensions of personal choices about time and energy allocation. This theoretical framework provides clarity on the intellectual traditions informing our dialogue while making explicit how our strategies contribute to broader conversations about resistance and survival for Black women in academia.
This framework is deliberately adaptable across different institutional contexts and career stages. In research-intensive universities, the emphasis might shift toward protecting research time and redirecting service toward activities that support one’s scholarly agenda. At teaching-focused institutions, strategic flourishing might involve integrating one’s research interests into course development and student mentorship. For scholars at historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs), the framework may emphasize different aspects of collective protection within institutions that support Black intellectual traditions while still presenting their own demands and expectations.
Adaptation Guidelines by Career Stage
The strategic flourishing framework requires thoughtful adaptation across different career stages, acknowledging that power differentials significantly shape Black women scholars’ ability to implement resistance strategies. For pre-tenure faculty, the approach emphasizes selective rather than complete disengagement, recognizing their more vulnerable institutional position. Junior scholars benefit from building robust external networks that reduce dependence on institutional validation while carefully documenting their boundary-setting practices as evidence of professional development for tenure files. Cross-institutional mentorship becomes particularly crucial at this stage, providing perspective and support that a single advisor or department cannot offer.
Mid-career faculty occupy a unique position where they can begin leveraging their increasing institutional influence more strategically while serving as bridges between junior and senior colleagues. At this stage, scholars can more actively model sustainable practices for junior colleagues, demonstrating that professional success need not require personal sacrifice. This career phase often involves redefining success metrics around personal values rather than external validation, as faculty gain enough security to resist institutional pressures more directly. Mid-career scholars also have the opportunity to create structural protections for others, using their growing influence to shield junior colleagues from exploitative service demands.
Senior faculty possess the institutional authority to most fully implement the strategic flourishing framework while creating protective conditions for others. Their established position allows them to openly model self-care and boundary-setting without fear of professional repercussions, sending powerful messages about sustainable academic practices. Senior scholars can leverage their status to shield junior colleagues from institutional exploitation, redirecting inappropriate service requests and creating buffer zones around vulnerable faculty members. Their mentorship extends beyond their home institutions, contributing to cross-institutional networks that strengthen the collective support system for Black women academics. Most importantly, senior faculty can use their established authority to challenge institutional norms directly, advocating for policy changes and cultural shifts that benefit all marginalized scholars while modeling resistance strategies that others can adapt to their own contexts.
The implications of our framework extend beyond tenured faculty to include Black women doctoral students, junior scholars, and professionals outside academia. For doctoral students, our emphasis on multi-dimensional identity development provides an essential counterbalance to the intense socialization pressures of graduate education. By cultivating interests and community beyond their programs and establishing boundaries around their time and energy, doctoral students can preserve their well-being while completing their degrees. Strategic mentorship networks that include scholars at different institutions can provide crucial support and perspective that a single advisor cannot offer.
For junior scholars navigating the pre-tenure period, our framework suggests modified approaches to intentional disengagement that acknowledge their more vulnerable position. This might include more selective boundary-setting, strategic committee choices that align with research interests, and building robust external networks that reduce dependence on institutional validation. Junior scholars can implement collective protection strategies through cross-institutional connections and documentation practices that create accountability for their institutions.
Beyond academia, our framework offers valuable insights for Black women professionals in predominantly white organizations where they face similar expectations around diversity work and institutional transformation. The principles of intentional disengagement, collective protection, self-care as resistance, and multi-dimensional identity apply equally in corporate, nonprofit, and government settings where Black women often bear disproportionate responsibility for organizational change. By adapting our strategies to these contexts, Black women professionals can preserve their well-being while advancing their careers and supporting one another.
While our framework emerges from the specific experiences of Black women scholars and is grounded in Black feminist epistemology, several core principles may offer valuable insights for other marginalized groups navigating predominantly white academic institutions. We emphasize that any adaptation must honor the distinctive challenges and cultural resources of each community rather than assuming universal applicability. The intersectional nature of oppression means that scholars facing multiple forms of marginalization—including Indigenous scholars, scholars with disabilities, LGBTQ+ academics, and first-generation college faculty—may find resonance with particular aspects of our strategic flourishing approach while requiring community-specific modifications.
The principle of intentional disengagement, for instance, may prove especially relevant for scholars from marginalized communities who are similarly burdened with diversity labor and institutional transformation expectations. Faculty of color across racial and ethnic groups often report being tokenized on committees and asked to represent their entire communities in ways that compromise their research productivity and personal well-being. Similarly, open LGBTQ+ faculty may find themselves expected to carry disproportionate responsibility for campus climate initiatives while navigating their own professional advancement. The strategy of selective engagement—declining service that doesn’t align with personal priorities while redirecting energy toward meaningful mentorship—could be adapted by various marginalized groups, though the specific risks and opportunities would vary significantly based on community context and institutional positioning.
Our emphasis on collective protection and community building reflects principles that extend across marginalized communities, though the specific forms of support and resistance would necessarily differ. Indigenous scholars, for example, might draw on traditional knowledge systems and community protocols that differ substantially from Black feminist traditions while serving similar protective functions. Scholars with disabilities might develop different forms of mutual aid and advocacy that center accessibility and challenge ableist academic norms. The key insight—that sustainable resistance requires community rather than individual resilience—remains relevant while acknowledging that each community brings distinct cultural resources, historical experiences, and contemporary challenges to academic spaces. Any adaptation of our framework must begin with the knowledge traditions and survival strategies already present within these communities rather than imposing external models, recognizing that marginalized scholars have always created networks of support and resistance, though these may not always be visible within traditional academic discourse.
On Resistance and Transformation
What emerges is a model of resistance that doesn’t require martyrdom or the sacrifice of personal well-being. Our dialogue demonstrates how redefining activism to include self-care and creative expression isn’t just about personal wellness—it’s about institutional change. Dr. Marsh’s “Mental Health Mondays” and Dr. Friedman’s involvement in herbalism illustrate how protecting time for rest and creative pursuits becomes an act of resistance against institutional demands for constant productivity. This reframing aligns with scholarship on Black feminist approaches to self-care as political action (Ahmed 2017; Lorde 1988) and suggests that institutions must recognize and support diverse forms of scholarly engagement and personal development.
Our emphasis on building robust networks of practical support reveals the critical importance of both formal and informal protection mechanisms. Dr. Marsh’s openly shared phone number with its “cheesecake” code word demonstrates how immediate, accessible support systems can help us navigate hostile institutional environments, extending previous work on mentorship and survival strategies in academia (Gregory 2001; Sulé 2014). These networks suggest that meaningful institutional change requires not just policy reforms but fundamental shifts in how we conceptualize mentorship and collective care. Our focus on nurturing relationships and identities beyond academia challenges the tendency of institutions to demand total dedication at the expense of personal fulfillment, echoing research on work-life integration for Black women faculty (Jones, Hwang, and Bustamante 2015).
Perhaps most significantly, we reject the false choice between institutional transformation and personal flourishing. The implications of our insights extend beyond individual survival strategies to suggest necessary institutional transformations. For institutions, this means recognizing and rewarding diverse forms of mentorship and community building, creating formal mechanisms to protect Black women faculty from institutional exploitation, and developing policies that support work-life integration and creative pursuits. Department chairs and senior faculty must implement concrete protections against retaliation for speaking out, create formal mentoring networks that distribute support responsibilities, and protect time for rest and personal development.
Looking forward, our dialogue suggests that the future of our leadership in academia lies not in conforming to institutional demands but in creating new models of scholarship that honor our full humanity. Our emphasis on joy, creativity, and mutual support challenges the assumption that institutional transformation requires personal sacrifice. Our conversation points toward a vision of academia where we can thrive through collective care and radical self-preservation, building on traditions of Black feminist thought and praxis (Cooper 2018; Harris-Perry 2011). These strategies are not merely personal coping mechanisms but essential survival tools for Black women and women of color navigating hostile academic environments. By documenting and sharing our approaches to resistance, self-care, and community building, we provide concrete pathways for sustaining intellectual contributions despite institutional barriers. Our work demonstrates that the survival of Black women scholars in academia depends not on individual resilience alone, but on intentional collective action that prioritizes well-being while challenging systemic inequities. This framework offers a blueprint for sustainability that extends beyond individual career advancement to nurture the intellectual traditions and communities that make our scholarship possible.
Through conversation rich with laughter, affirmation, and practical strategy-sharing, we model the very kind of supportive community we advocate for. Our strategic flourishing framework has significant implications for how institutions approach diversity and inclusion initiatives. Rather than placing the burden of transformation on us, institutions must create conditions that support our multidimensional success. This requires moving beyond superficial diversity metrics to address fundamental questions about power, support, and well-being in academic spaces (Settles et al. 2020). Our conversation ultimately suggests that true institutional transformation emerges not from top-down initiatives but from the ground up—through networks of support, strategic resistance, and the cultivation of joy. Our dialogue offers a blueprint for how we can reject false choices between institutional change and personal flourishing, creating instead innovative paradigms that advance both individual and collective liberation.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to acknowledge that this dialogue was conducted during a moment of heightened institutional and symbolic violence against Black women in academia, making its insights and strategies particularly timely and relevant.
I extend my deepest gratitude to Drs. Brittany Friedman (University of Southern California) and Kris Marsh (University of Maryland College Park) for sharing their experiences, wisdom, and strategies for survival and thriving in academia with such candor and courage. Their willingness to speak freely about both personal and professional challenges while offering practical solutions exemplifies the kind of solidarity and support they advocate for in our conversation.
Our dialogue builds on and honors the work of countless Black women scholars who have carved out spaces for survival and resistance in academia. From those who were “firsts” in their departments to those currently pushing boundaries and creating new possibilities, their collective efforts have made conversations like this one possible. I particularly acknowledge Dr. Marsh’s historic achievement as the first Black woman to progress from assistant to associate to full professor in the University of Maryland’s sociology department, while recognizing the institutional failures this “first” represents in 2024.
Special recognition goes to those working on the ground—the mentors, the whistleblowers, the organizers, and the quiet revolutionaries who sustain networks of support for Black women in academia, who create alternative spaces of learning and community beyond traditional academic boundaries.
We also acknowledge those Black women students and junior scholars who continue to navigate these institutions while working toward advanced degrees and tenure. Your persistence, creativity, and determination in the face of ongoing challenges inspire and motivate this work. Finally, we recognize that this conversation exists within a larger movement of Black women scholars who are reimagining academia and creating innovative models of intellectual engagement that honor their full humanity while advancing collective liberation.
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
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