Black woman fatigue: Workforce stories shared by Wisconsin’s Black women early educators

Abstract

This study employs the theoretical frameworks of Critical Race Theory (CRT), Intersectionality and Racial Battle Fatigue (RBF) to examine the lived experiences of Black women early educators in Wisconsin. Using qualitative methods – including in-depth interviews and thematic analysis – the research highlights how race, gender, class and systemic inequities intersect to shape their professional trajectories and personal well-being. The findings reveal how Black women early educators experience persistent structural barriers, such as, poverty wages, high work demands, cultural isolation and racialized licensing encounters. Participants described their encounters with microaggressions and excessive emotional labor as contributing to racial battle fatigue, while also highlighting the strategies of resilience and resistance they employ while navigating systemic challenges. While rooted in the U.S., the study’s findings reflect global patterns in which Black women early educators are devalued and overburdened in early education structures. By amplifying the voices of Black women early educators in Wisconsin, this study contributes to a global discourse on racial and gender equity in care work and early education. The insights offered underscore the need for culturally responsive policies and transnational coalitions that affirm the leadership, commitment, experiential knowledge and well-being of Black women early educators worldwide.

Keywords

intersectionality early education workforce Black women early educators Wisconsin systemic inequalities global early education structures structural inequalities

Introduction

Black women are foundational to the early education field - serving as educators, transmitters of cultural knowledge, community leaders and advocates for children and families (Prochner, 2019; Williams, 2022). Despite their vital contributions, Black women early educators face systemic inequalities – including poverty wages, limited access to benefits, restricted career advancement opportunities and cultural isolation within white normed workforce settings (Adams, 2023; Aploon-Zokufa, 2024; Crumdy, 2024; Turner and Turner, 2023)

Although less frequently addressed in academic literature, systemic barriers are also embedded within the formal structures of program licensing and regulation (Adams, 2023; Turner and Turner, 2023). Particularly to Wisconsin – a U.S. state in the Midwest – early education programs, both family and group child care settings are licensed and regulated by the Wisconsin Department of Children and Families (DCF). A licensed family child care program provides care in the educator’s home for eight or less children (Wisconsin Department of Children and Families, n.d). While, a licensed group child care program provides care for nine or more children in a commercial setting (Wisconsin Department of Children and Families, n.d). Each program is assigned a DCF licensor whose role is to visit programs to ensure the health, safety and well-being of children. The findings from the licensors site visit could potentially lead to suspension or, in severe cases, revocation of a program’s license.

Although the licensing process is essential to the establishment and ongoing operation of early education programs in Wisconsin, the experiences of Black women who must navigate DCF licensing and regulatory systems remain markedly under investigated. This gap in the literature overlooks the ways that racism, sexism and classism intersect to shape Black women’s professional lives as well as the resilience and cultural capital (Yosso, 2005) they bring to their roles. The present study addresses this gap by presenting findings from a qualitative research study conducted in Wisconsin that examines the experience of 20 Black women early educators, highlighting their workforce experiences, including engagement with DCF licensors. The overarching question which guides this inquiry is: “What are the experiences of Wisconsin’s early educators who identify as Black and woman?” Guided by the theoretical orientations of Critical Race Theory (CRT), Intersectionality and Racial Battle Fatigue (RBF), this study centers the voices of Black women.

In the following section, I position Wisconsin’s early education workforce within the broader historical and socio-political context of the United States, while also drawing connections to global patterns of gendered labor in early education systems. The literature review is followed by an outline of the theoretical frameworks that ground this study. I then present the findings, which underscore how Wisconsin continues to reproduce systemic inequities for Black women early educators. The paper concludes with a discussion of the broader implications of these findings for policy and practice.

Intersection of race, class, gender and early education

Systemic inequities and Wisconsin’s early education workforce

Almost all of Wisconsin’s early education workforce is female (97.6%) with 12.6% of group center teachers and 28% of family-based professionals identifying as persons of color (Pilarz et al., 2021). These disparities are pronounced in Milwaukee, Wisconsin - a city cited as one of the “worst” places for Black people to live due to entrenched racial segregation, elevated poverty rates and significant racial inequities in access to quality healthcare, education and livable wages (Levine, 2020). In Milwaukee, 99% of its early education workforce is female and 67% identify as Black, Hispanic or Asian women (Milwaukee Succeeds, 2023; World Population Review, 2024). Milwaukee’s patterns of racial segregation often result in Black women early educators primarily serving the needs of children and family who navigate inequitable social and economic systems.

Across Wisconsin, early educators experience low wages, inadequate benefits and stressful work environments (Austin et al., 2019; Awkward-Rich and Dresser, 2021a, 2021b; Pilarz et al., 2021). When analyzing data through the lens of intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989) – for example, based on one’s race, gender and class status – we find that women of color are predominantly marginalized within the profession. Black, Hispanic, Asian, Indigenous and other early educators of color are relegated to the lowest paid positions on the career hierarchy, serving as infant room teachers, aides and assistants (McLean and Whitebook, 2019). Even when education is equalized, Black early educators make 77 cents less per hour than their White counterparts who assume the same position (Austin et al., 2019; McLean and Whitebook, 2019).

Specific to Black women’s experiences with DCF licensing, Turner and Turner (2023) document stories shared by 33 family child care professionals. Previously, DCF was defined as Wisconsin’s licensing and regulatory agency that is responsible for ensuring the health, safety and well-being of children enrolled in child care programs. Turner and Turner (2023: 18) study demonstrates how DCF licensors highly scrutinized Black women during their licensing visits, searching for traces of business fraud. In response, study participants perceived DCF officials as those who viewed them as “dishonest” professionals which, in turn, led them to feel criminalized. The study furthermore notes how licensors failed to honor the cultural and experiential knowledge of these Black women as they instituted policies that failed to prioritize them and their communities.

The present study builds upon the foundation laid by Turner and Turner’s (2023) exploration. By leveraging insights from their study, my research aims to expand our understanding of how structural inequalities manifest for Wisconsin’s Black women early educators who serve as both family – and group center – professionals. The continuity between these studies allows for a deeper exploration of shared themes, such as racial and gendered inequities, while further unveiling the forms of cultural, intellectual and experiential capital that Black women bring to the field.

Black women early educators and the Global Context

Gendered racism stretches beyond Wisconsin’s early education structures, reflecting a transnational pattern whereas structural inequalities marginalize Black women across global early education contexts. In Western Cape, South African Black women’s positionality as “care” workers systematically limits their access to living wage employment and postsecondary institutions (Aploon-Zokufa, 2024: 8). In the United Kingdom, although they work long, laborious shifts, Black British women early educators document experiences of being economically exploited, undervalued, unrecognized and unsupported while serving in the workforce (Bryan et al., 2018). In Nigeria, Eyuche et al. (2021) report how – due to low wages, high work demands, unavailability of instructional resources, limited incentives and lack of administrative support – teachers experience high levels of psychological distress, precipitating workforce burnout. In the Cuban context, Crumdy (2024) underscores how Black Cuban women continue to be under recognized and undervalued within the early education system, all while shouldering the dual responsibilities of contributing essential economic labor to their country and managing the demands of caregiving within their families

Collectively, these global accounts reveal a consistent and troubling pattern: Black women are essential to the functioning of early education and the broader economic well-being of societies. Yet, across diverse contexts – from Wisconsin to the Western Cape, from Nigeria to Cuba to the United Kingdom – they continue to be systematically disrespected and excluded from experiencing mobility. By drawing connections between local narratives and international scholarship, this section illuminates how systemic barriers faced by Black women early educators in Wisconsin are not anomalous but persist in global hierarchies in care labor and educational policy. The next section provides a backdrop for why Black women early educators remain disproportionately marginalized within the early education workforce.

Negative stereotyping, Black women and systemic inequities

Systemic inequalities in early education are operational because the social structures of American society – its policies, practices, and discourses – are inherently racialized. These structures are shaped by political, hegemonic, misogynistic, and cultural norms that perpetuate racism, sexism, classism and other intersecting forms of inequity (Morris, 2016; Omi and Winant, 2012). Such structures limit Blacks access to forms of knowledge and capital that support social mobility, including education, livable wage employment and quality health care services (Gregory et al., 2010; Morris, 2016; Okonofua et al., 2020). Black people are furthermore oppressed by the affixation of negative stereotypes (Delgado and Stefancic, 2017; Kendi, 2016), being historically perceived as lazy, unintelligent and criminal (Alcañiz-Colomer et al., 2023; Durante and Fiske, 2017; Reynolds and Kendi, 2020).

Racial stereotypes are deeply ingrained in the history and culture of societies across the globe, rooted in the legacies of slavery and colonialism (Reynolds and Kendi, 2020; Taylor et al., 2019). As proclaimed by Kendi (2016), systemic inequalities did not emerge by happenstance but rather were “stamped from the beginning.” During the transatlantic slave trade, Africans were objectified as human property (Bryan et al., 2018; Reynolds and Kendi, 2020; Taylor et al., 2019) – serving as commodities to be bought, sold and exploited for economic gain. White slavers developed racial stereotypes and negative images of Africans to rationalize their social, economic and political domination, exploitation and maltreatment of them (Bryan et al., 2018; Hill Collins, 1989; Taylor et al., 2019).

Racial stereotypes, intersectionality and Black women early educators

For African enslaved women, sexism and classism manifested as a force of oppression in their lives similar to racism (Crenshaw, 1989; Crumdy, 2024; Hooks, 1952). During slavery, all women were subservient to white men (Hill Collins, 1993). Yet, class and racial hierarchies endured, enabling both affluent and working-class white women to maintain an image of purity as they birthed and raised children for white men (Hill Collins, 1993). Meanwhile, African female slaves were expected to work the land, serve as sexual ploys and bear children for economic prosperity (Hill Collins, 1993). The persistent devaluing of African women ensured that all white women – affluent, working class and poor – maintained their superior positions.

While assuming their role of servitude, African women were stereotyped as natural caregivers who happily served the domestic needs of white slavers (mammy); sexually promiscuous (jezebel); loud, aggressive and emasculating (sapphire); and those undeserving of nurturing and protection (Blake and Epstein, 2019; Hill Collins, 2004). Post slavery/colonialism, Black women have been demonized for accessing the welfare system even though they historically served as producers of the world’s wealth (Bryan et al., 2018). In the U.S., the “welfare queen” archetype emerged to disproportionately criminalize Black women as those who access public assistance without merit (Kohler-Hausmann, 2007) – portraying them as irresponsible and unwilling to work while reinforcing racial gendered narratives that justify systemic neglect and discrimination (Floyd et al., 2021). Holding negative ideologies about Black women leads to them encountering racial slights, hyper surveillance, negative narratives, stigmatization and microaggressions (Gilliam et al., 2016; Pierce, 1970, 1974).

The essential role of Black women early educators

Despite their historical challenges, Black women have made significant contributions to the field of early education (Crumdy, 2024; Prochner, 2019; Williams, 2022). Their narratives are not only united by their shared racial gendered conditions but also by their resilience and responses to systemic exclusion. Whether serving as educators, advocates or leaders in policy development, Black women early educators globally utilize, what Hill Collins (1990: 9) terms “subjugated knowledge,” to resist exclusion and challenge systems of intersectional oppression.

During slavery and colonialism, Black women defied the law and resisted hegemonic social norms by pursuing education as a source of social, political and economic liberation as well as mobility for their families (Bryan et al., 2018; McGee, 2015; Otheguy, 2025; Siddle-Walker, 1996). During the Jim Crow and postcolonial era, they established kindergarten and day nurseries; led school desegregation efforts; established la escuelitas in their homes; and orchestrated “Saturday” schools to educate Black children (Bryan et al., 2018: 70; Otheguy, 2025; Prochner, 2019). Drawing on their experiential knowledge and cultural capital (Yosso, 2005), these women implemented an Afrocentric pedagogy rooted in global affirmations of Indigenous wisdom (Anderson, 1988; Bryan et al., 2018; Kissi, 2024; Prochner, 2019; Williams, 2022).

In the contemporary landscape, Black students who have at least one Black teacher during their k-3 years are 13% more likely to graduate from high school and enroll in college (Gershenson et al., 2021). Research further notes that students of all racial backgrounds prefer educators of color because they hold students to higher standards of academic excellence and serve as “cultural navigators,” those who help Black students confront and cope with racial injustices (Bryan et al., 2018; Gershenson et al., 2021; Henry, 2017; Warren-Grice, 2017: 12).

Collectively, this literature review highlights the global and historical experiences of Black women early educators. While the majority of scholarship – that centers Wisconsin’s early education workforce (Austin et al., 2019; Awkward-Rich and Dresser, 2021a, 2021b) – documents the racialized and gendered dynamics of the early education workforce, it overlooks the specific experiences of Black women. While scholars globally acknowledge the major role that Black women play (Adams, 2023; Bryan et al., 2018; Crumdy, 2024), fewer studies interrogate how licensing systems and workforce infrastructures (i.e. compensation) contribute to their perpetual marginalization. By using a Critical Race, Intersectional and Racial Battle Fatigue lens, this study builds on the scholarship by examining how Black women early educators in Wisconsin navigate compensation and licensing structures.

Theoretical frameworks

This study incorporates tenets of Critical Race Theory (CRT), including colorblindness, meritocracy and whiteness as property, alongside Crenshaw’s (1989) theory of Intersectionality and Smith’s (2004) theory of Racial Battle Fatigue (RBF), to examine the experiences of Wisconsin’s Black women early educators. Collectively, these frameworks provide a lens for understanding how systemic inequities and intersecting oppressions shape their professional lives.

Critical Race Theory (CRT) examines how race and racism are embedded within social, cultural and institutional structures (Bell, 1992; Delgado and Stefancic, 2017). The principle of colorblindness (Crenshaw, 2011; Crenshaw et al., 1995), purporting that all individuals are treated equally regardless of their multiple identities, obscures the unique challenges faced by Black women early educators. Participants’ experiences unveil how colorblind policies and practices often disregard the historical and structural inequities embedded in the profession, reinforcing disparities rather than addressing them. The notion of meritocracy (Crenshaw et al., 1995, Crenshaw, 2011; Dixson and Rousseau, 2006), or the belief that success is the sole result of individual effort and ability, is interrogated as it applies to the career trajectories of Black women early educators. This study demonstrates how meritocratic ideologies fail to consider the intersectional impact of race, gender and class-based discrimination. Finally, the concept of whiteness as property (Bell, 2004) is explored to illustrate how whiteness operates as a vehicle of privilege and power within the early education workforce. This framework is used to analyze how institutional policies, workplace dynamics and cultural norms privilege whiteness, marginalizing Black women early educators and undermining their contributions to the field.

Crenshaw’s (1989) theory of Intersectionality is also central to this study, emphasizing how race, gender and class constructs intersect to perpetuate compounding experiences of marginalization. Through this lens, the study examines how Black women navigate the trilogy of their positionality, exposing how their overlapping identities shape their lived experiences. Finally, Smith’s (2004) concept of Racial Battle Fatigue deepens the study’s context by highlighting the emotional and physiological strain experienced by individuals navigating racially hostile and inequitable workplace environments. Participants described experiencing microaggressions, what scholars define as the “subtle, stunning, often automatic and non-verbal exchanges which are ‘put downs’ of Blacks by their offenders. . .that are perpetuated at the intersection of one’s multiple identities” (Pierce, 1974: 267; Smith et al., 2006).

Research design

The present study adopted a qualitative approach (Creswell, 2014) and the tenet of storytelling (Solórzano and Yosso, 2002) to capture the experiences of Wisconsin’s Black women early educators.

Data collection

The research team gained access to study participants by sharing a marketing flier through social media, personal and professional connections, professional listservs and by asking those who completed interviews to refer others for the study (Merriam and Merriam, 2001). These methods allowed us to gain access to 45 individuals who served as research participants.

A demographic survey was disseminated electronically to research participants to: (1) ensure participants met the study’s criteria; (2) obtain demographic data; and (3) ensure participant diversity. First round interviews were conducted with each respondent; second round interviews were conducted with 20 respondents; and two focus groups were held with eight study participants. Most interviews were conducted virtually via Google Meet; two second round interviews were conducted by phone and two second round interviews were captured via Google Forms. The individual interviews stretched between 60 and 90 minutes and focus groups lasted approximately 120 minutes. Consent forms were read out loud during the onset of the interviews. All participants granted verbal (recorded) consent and pseudonyms were used to protect the identity of the participants (Creswell, 2014). Study participants were given a $50 gift card for participating in each interview. The gift cards, were funded by Wisconsin Early Childhood Association (WECA).

All study respondents identify as either Black (63.5%), Asian (18.3%), Hispanic (15.9%) or Native American (2.3%) and work in a variety of roles, including group center assistant teacher, group center lead teacher, group center director, group center trainer, family child care professional and Pre-kindergarten teacher. Many of them serve dual roles at their programs, accepting additional responsibilities, such as, cook, van driver and maintenance personnel. Two respondents left the field of early education prior to being interviewed.

The research respondents’ range in age between 18 and 69 years with the majority of them (49%) ranging between 30 and 39 years. Collectively, they have worked in the field between 1 and 30 (plus) years. As it relates to their gender identity, 41 respondents identify as female and four respondents identify as male. The majority of them live and work in Milwaukee County (60.5%), followed by Dane county (14%), Brown County (11.6%) and Winnebago county (4.7%). Participant representation from the remaining counties in Wisconsin is 2.3% and lower.

This article specifically illuminates the experiences of 20 Black women who served as original research participants. All of these women work in programs located in the central city of Milwaukee, Wisconsin – the city that was previously described in this paper as one of the “worst” places for Blacks to live (Levine, 2020).

Data analysis

All interviews were recorded, with permission from the research respondents, and transcribed verbatim. Transcripts were reviewed multiple times and codes (key concepts) were determined based on recurring patterns that were identified within and across interviews (Creswell, 2014). Codes were color-coded to better identify similar experiences across interview data. Once the final report was developed, I asked the participants to review the study’s findings to ensure that their stories were captured accurately (Lincoln and Guba, 1985).

Researcher positionality

I serve as a college professor and qualitative researcher who focuses on examining the experiences of Black populations. I identify as a Black woman who perceives race and gender as social constructs used to privilege whiteness (Omi and Winant, 2014). Since racism is foundational to the structures of U.S. society (Bell, 1980), I approached this research project with the understanding that study participants would potentially share stories steeped in racism, genderism and other forms of inequities. I respect the experiential knowledge of these populations and, thus, accept their voices as truth. Finally, I reject mainstream epistemologies that support deficit and colorblind notions because such principles permeate structural inequality.

For this study, I possess “insider” status (Berger, 2015), sharing the racial identity of research participants and formerly serving as an early educator in Wisconsin. This “insider” status may have granted me privilege but I also carried the risk of projecting my personal biases. Thus, I maintained a reflexive journal, recording my biases and ways to adapt my interview style during times when information was shared that I perceived as unjust and disheartening (Ellingson, 2009; Gilgun, 2010).

Findings

Two major themes emerged from the data analysis process. The first theme speaks to study participants racialized experiences with DCF licensors. The second theme discusses how participants grapple with earning poverty wages while carrying heavy workloads. Both themes highlight the intersectional relationship between Black womanhood, racial gendered tropes and the social, economic and mental well-being of research participants.

DCF and the policing of Black women early educators

Black women who own and/or oversee early education programs shared stories about their social encounters with their assigned DCF licensor. Participants explained how, from the onset of their licensing visits, they interpreted their licensor’s demeanor as “cold” and intimidating. Kim, owner/director of a group child care program, shared the following about how she was approached by her licensor during a licensing visit. She shares:

As soon as she walked in the door she said [speaking for the DCF licensor], “I expected to come in here and close you down”.

Kim’s business was not “closed” down in response to the licensing visit. However, the disrespectful way in which she was approached by the licensor gives credence to the ways that Black women have historically been devalued, disrespected and perceived as criminals (welfare queen).

Trina, another group center owner, shared the following about how she also felt scrutinized by her licensor. Trina reckoned that the negative engagement forged by her licensor was based on her intersectional positionality of being both Black and woman, illuminating Crenshaw’s (1989, 1991) theory of intersectionality.

I try very hard to keep up, you know a quality professional program up and running. However. . .I have had uh licensors come in and say, “Who is your director?” [speaking for the licensor] and I will say, “I am she. How can I help?” And, they will ask me, “Well, where did you go to school? How did you become a director? What qualifies you to be the director here?” And .. it’s overwhelming and right away, uhm the conversation has started out uhm wrong. And it puts. . .me in a position where I became very defensive and very uhm insulted because that was an insult to say what qualifies you to be a director. . .But I think uhm because I didn’t look the way they had anticipated that I should look. . .there was a lack of appreciation for who I was and what I was bringing to the table. I did not marry up with their version and vision of what it ought to have been. . ..

Here, Trina provides evidence about how the exertion of racial microaggressions – such as scrutiny over her qualifications, educational background and business status – exacerbated a level of stress for her as she became overwhelmed, insulted and defensive by her interactions with the licensor. Her encounter with the licensor triggered her to embody symptoms that resonate with racial battle fatigue. Finally, the controlling image of mammy is also evident in Trina’s story, whereas despite her professional qualifications and expertise, she is automatically perceived as a caregiver rather than the business owner.

While recounting instances of racial gendered encounters, many participants described how their interactions with licensors differed from those of their white peers. Their accounts underscore CRT’s critique of meritocracy, revealing how they were cited for program violations and reprimanded by licensors in ways that sharply contrasted with the preferential treatment afforded to their white peers. Trina shared the following about how she witnessed the different ways that a DCF licensor interacted with and regarded the all-white staff, employed at a suburban (predominantly White) early education setting where her grandson was temporarily enrolled. She shares:

I don’t live in the city of Milwaukee uhm and I have been in a program [to drop off her grandson] while I was doing renovation on my program. . .And, I put one of my grandchildren in a program in a different [predominantly White] county. And I can tell you when I happen to be dropping. . .my grandchild off at that program, they [licensors] came in. They knew each other’s name [referring to the licensors and the center’s staff]. They were chatting like they were old buddies for 25 years and uh they [DCF] were suggesting, “Just show me this, just show me that and I’ll be out of here and out of your way”. So, I think that’s very different. . .I’ve seen it. . .It’s very different than what I’ve experienced.

Prior to owning a family-based program, Robin worked at both urban (predominantly Black) and suburban (predominantly White) programs and was also able to juxtapose the ways that DCF licensors interact with White versus Black professionals in the field. She shares the following:

And then the licensor comes out [to the Milwaukee urban-based center], they’re just nit-picky. . .you never get a clean slate and the crazy thing about it is. . .at [suburban child care center], they [licensors] were lenient with them. When I was at [urban child care center], we got written up for everything, everything. . .DCF is a lot.

Another director/owner explained how her center personnel’s interactions with licensors was so negative that she and her staff instantly become alarmed at the sight of a “White person” approaching their establishment and how, similar to other professionals, she perceived that the ill treatment from the DCF licensor was in response to her program being located in the central city of Milwaukee, employing a full staff of Black people and serving Black children. The staff’s reactions also align with RBF. She shares:

So, whenever we see a White person come in, they’re [center staff] like, “Here comes the state” [DCF]. It didn’t even have to be the state. It was just a White person. Story after story where I can see where people that were White would get different types of treatment from people who were of color.

In the quotes, highlighted in this theme, Black women are providing illustrations of CRT’s whiteness as property tenet as they explain how licensors offer differentiated experiences and channels of support to early educators based on the geography of the programs and the demographic make-up of the children, families and staff who are associated with their programs. These professionals’ recollections position their licensors as those who are colorblind (Crenshaw et al., 2011; Dixson and Rousseau, 2006) to the needs of Black early educators, their programs and the children and families whom they serve.

Workforce exploitation and the controlling image of “Mammy”

The Black women whom we spoke with perceived the field of early care and education to be a high demand, low paying profession that offers minimal benefits. Despite them acquiring various levels of postsecondary education, ranging from a series of credentials to a doctorate degree, they identify themselves as low wage earners. Their stories demonstrate how, based on their trilogy of identity, these women are expected to serve as natural caregivers – those who are inherently nurturing, self-sacrificing and resilient at the expense of their own well-being.

While struggling to fight back tears, Ramona shared how working in the field is economically marginalizing for her, as she and her husband – who is also gainfully employed – struggle to make ends meet.

. . .we are barely making it in any aspect. . .don’t make enough money to pay back school loans [or] to even pay for my own children to be in childcare. Me and my husband kind of liken it to drowning, treading water and swimming and we definitely flip flop between almost drowning and treading most of the time [participant begins to cry]. [Our] careers do not afford a lot of luxury and that’s not even what I’m looking for [luxury]. I just want to be able to get gas now [instead of waiting until payday]. I’m sorry [participant is crying]. I just want to be able to take my six-year-old to a restaurant. . .Like, we are just trying to live and it is not friendly for us. So, it would be really nice if this wasn’t like a constant struggle all the time because I like my job.

Ramona continues:

[I can] barely afford groceries, barely afford rent, barely afford anything else outside of day-to-day stuff because I make barely over the 15-wage minimum. And that’s not even the minimum everywhere.

Ramona entered the field in 2016 after earning her bachelor degree in early childhood education from an accredited university. Yet, she’s complaining about how the early education sector fails to compensate her adequately. One research participant described Ramona’s social phenomena as “living paycheck to paycheck.”

Similarly to Ramona, living “paycheck to paycheck” precipitated other study participants toward experiencing emotional turmoil. Diana, an infant room teacher at a group center, discusses how poverty and emotional distress intersects with child development. She shares the following about how her inability to cover monthly bills impacts her emotionally and limits the care that she is able to provide to the children whom she serves:

It’s the first of the month and you’re looking at this check and thinking about all the stuff that you. . .need to do and there’s a kid who’s screaming. . .because someone took a toy. And, in that moment I just don’t have the patience. . .I just don’t feel like being nice. . .I don’t feel like being kind because I have to do all this stuff [heavy workload] and. . .you can’t just be flying off the handle on kids because you have an attitude. . . that’s inappropriate. I got the money to pay for it [bills]? No way, because I work this 40-hour job and they don’t pay me enough.

Sarah, another classroom teacher shares how living in poverty and dealing with a heavy workload led her to take a “mental health break” from work. Due to low staffing and high child:teacher ratios, she was forced to assume responsibilities that she wasn’t academically or emotionally prepared for. She shares:

And it was so bad. I took a week off because I needed a mental health break and I felt so guilty about it [not being available to the children]. I mostly took a mental health break because I was an assistant. . .and even with that I had a lot of responsibility even for teaching content and things like that. I had a lot of responsibility. I was under the impression that I would be an assistant again but for whatever reason they made me a lead teacher and gave me my own classroom. And that was a lot of responsibility, making a whole curriculum. . .making all these lesson plans. And I think that’s where I started to feel overburdened. . .I had assistance but my assistant had also checked out mentally. . .and [wasn’t] really great assistance. They. . .would be on their phone, not really watching the kids that much, not really helping with anything. So, it turned into me because someone has to care. So, it usually winds up being me, essentially with 25 kids by myself. I think that’s why I needed a break.

Diana and Sarah’s reflections speak volumes about how young children suffer when their caregivers are overwhelmed by a set of responsibilities that are unachievable due to a compilation of reasons, including high work expectations, limited support staff, unmanageable classroom environments and low wages. All three women (Diana, Sarah and Ramona) express how working in their early learning environments precipitates emotional and psychological distress for workers. Additionally, their recollections illustrate how Black women early educators are often burdened by a heavy workload – aligning their workforce realities to the mammy stereotype – which frames Black women as natural caregivers whose primary role is to nurture and support others while neglecting their own well-being.

Conclusion

This study’s findings affirm the critical but often overlooked role that Black women play in shaping early education systems in Wisconsin. Despite their contributions, Black women pay significant costs for remaining in the field (see Venzant-Chambers et al., 2014). Study participants shared experiences of encountering racial microaggressions rooted in racial gendered stereotypes during their interactions with DCF licensors; described the social and economic hardships they endure while working in early education environments; and shared how enduring racial gendered systemic inequalities takes a significant emotional and psychological toll on them. Their experiences – of low wages, cultural isolation, racialized regulation and systemic barriers – mirror global patterns of racial gendered labor inequities manifested in early education structures.

Globally, women of color are overrepresented in caregiving professions; yet, remain devalued and under compensated for their contributions (Aploon-Zokufa, 2024). In South Africa, the United Kingdom, Nigeria and Cuba, Black women early educators experience extreme levels of marginalization as they encounter poverty wages, exclusion from postsecondary institutions, laborious workloads, under recognition, psychological distress and workforce burnout (Aploon-Zokufa, 2024; Bryan et al., 2018; Crumdy, 2024; Eyuche et al., 2021).

These global parallels demonstrate that the systemic marginalization of Black women early educators in Wisconsin is not an isolated phenomenon. Rather their stories are manifested in a transnational pattern in which Black women’s labor is both essential and institutionally devalued. The insights of Wisconsin’s early educators highlight the urgent need for anti-racist, culturally grounded and equity-driven reforms that resonate across national contexts. In this way, Wisconsin’s Black women early educators join a broader global community of practitioners and thinkers who are resisting these systems and demanding transformation. These findings also illuminate the urgency for program licensing structures (such as DCF) to undergo systemic changes to address the inequities highlighted in this study. By dismantling structural barriers, global early education institutions can better support Black women early educators and the critical work they do to shape the lives of young children, families and communities.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I wish to acknowledge the invaluable contributions of our dedicated research team. Their passion for this work has been truly inspiring. I would also like to express my deep gratitude to the early educators who participated in this study. Their willingness to share their experiences and insights has been both enlightening and essential to understanding the complex realities faced by Black women in the field of early childhood education. I appreciate their courage, resilience and dedication to fostering meaningful educational environments for children and families.

Author’s Note

Toshiba L. Adams is now affiliated with University of Wisconsin- Milwaukee, WI, USA.

ORCID iD

Toshiba L. Adams

Ethical Considerations

This study was conducted in compliance with ethical standards for research involving human participants. Informed consent was obtained from all participants prior to their involvement in the study. Participants were provided with detailed information about the study’s purpose, procedures, potential risks, and benefits. They were assured of their right to withdraw from the study at any time without consequence and were informed about how their data would be protected and used. All participants provided verbal consent (during virtual meeting sessions) before participating in the study. Confidentiality was maintained by de-identifying participant data and securely storing all research materials. No personally identifiable information is included in this manuscript.

Funding

The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Data Availability Statement

Due to ethical concerns and confidentiality agreements with participants, the data underlying this study are not publicly available. Please contact the author directly.

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