Fury and Forgiveness: Confessions of a UNC Black Faculty Alumna
Prayer. Outrage. Hugs. Anger. Bible Study. Profanity. Laughter. Tears. HeartMath. Disgust. Long walks. Resentment. Affirmations. Rage. Biking. Tired. Writing. Grace.
The ongoing mental and physical gyrations while trying to survive as a Black faculty member at my alma mater, the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (UNC), is just exhausting. I came back in 2007 to join the admired UNC faculty with the belief that the university is indeed the “southern part of heaven.” The beauty of the state, the pleasant climate, the attractive beaches, and the majestic mountains were too enticing to turn down. Little did I realize or care to cautiously examine the longstanding civil war of division, control, and exploitation was not only in the community but on campus.
If one is only slightly connected to major research institutions or the state of North Carolina, it is well known that this struggle for equality, inclusion, and justice for people of color and women is centuries old. The coals of trickery, dubiousness, and double-dealing that often embarrass the academic community, harm and destroy careers, and stifle the institution’s potential and possibilities are red hot. I was so naïve to think that academia would have much less bureaucracy and fewer insecure leaders than corporate America, in which I worked for…
