Diversity & Inclusion Statement

Small kindnesses and inclusive gestures underpin the nitty gritty of my work as an academic, because, statistically, I should not have a PhD nor be on the tenure-track at a research-intensive university. I grew up in the Texas foster care system, and after turning 18, I supported myself alone as a florist. I also grew up on the Southside of San Antonio, Texas, which has one of the highest poverty rates in the state and country. College readiness for Southside high schoolers is 35%, but it was closer to 20% when I graduated, and this percent is much lower for foster care alumni who like myself had no familial or state support leaving the system (about 3%). The number becomes negligible for queer foster care alumni of color, but still, here I am thanks to teachers and mentors—advocates—who recognized my unique needs and helped me to become a statistical anomaly. I carry these experiences forward in my work as an academic, centralizing them in my commitment to diversity and inclusion, which most readily takes the form of recognizing the marginalizing forces that lead to inequities and stymy diverse spaces and then challenging them, moves toward inclusion that drive my mentorship and teaching.

In my teaching, I enact this commitment by foregrounding key concepts of critical pedagogy to help students understand that learning experiences are often shaped by ableism and racism, down to the organization of a typical classroom. As a writing instructor, for example, I help students to pivot away from the notion that good writing equals good grammar and syntax (both racist notions) and toward genre and audience awareness and rhetorical savvy. In course readings, I spotlight perspectives from Black, Indigenous, and writers of color (many of whom are also queer or disabled) so that students with such identities—and those who do not—can see successful research and academic work done beyond Western, ableist, cisheteropatriarchal standards. As a non-traditional student, I also attend to student success along my own experiences in higher education—namely that of a community college dropout who went back to school after watching The Devil Wears Prada—and I draw from my positionalities to meet students where they are in their lives. I work with students to help them outline what academic practices work best for them, which often takes the form of: 1) a labor-based grading contract informed by anti-racist pedagogy, which emphasizes development and not grades; 2) class-created assessment rubrics so students get the developmental assistance they specifically request; and 3) ongoing reflection through writing and group discussions so that students further develop their own learning and goals. My nearly ten years of writing center consultancy work with primarily Mexican American, ESL, and international undergraduate and graduate students and faculty also inform the developmental feedback I give to students on their projects, activities, and other writings.

Finally, I also spend ample time revealing to students the hidden curriculum of higher education and the job market so they understand how to speak about their experiences working in groups, testing materials with public audiences, and ensuring accessibility. Frankly, I attend to this hidden curriculum because of my background and my own difficult journey through higher education. I am in my position today thanks to numerous mentors who both paved a way for me in the academy and also guided me toward and through that path. As such, I have mentored and assisted multiple queer and/or students of color to apply to graduate and professional schools, writing several letters of recommendation and helping them plan their careers despite the marginalizing forces keeping them down. I know I am on the right path as an educator when every queer student and student of color has maintained regular communication with me for support, and I plan to ensure students become as anomalous as I am while modeling for students and others the equitable workplaces and settings that we all might create together; students, especially, are the next generation after all.