The first time I quoted Karl Marx was when I was in my Principles of Sociology class at Fresno City College. I was writing a paper on my experience with alienation in the many parts of my life. That was more than a decade ago, and since then I realized that the sociological canon is mainly filled with literature from white men who were deceased and wrote from their own perspective—leaving many gaps. While in graduate school, I was required to read multiple theorists to see how their perspectives talked to each other, however, it was a disservice to me because the majority of the theorists I continued to read were perspectives from dead white men. In this blog, I briefly share a glimpse of my experience during my coursework at UCSF, and give examples as to why it would behoove institutions of higher learning to add more literature from Black Indigenous & People of Color (BIPOC), because limiting student’s reading to long gone white men, or white women in academia reproduces dominant/bourgeois ideology, and may be harmful to students—especially students who are BIPOC.
Surviving graduate school is no walk in the park, in fact, my health declined a year in, because I didn’t make time to exercise or eat healthy, and the pandemic had a greater impact on it, as well. The feeling of constantly feeling behind on readings had an impact on my blood pressure, and my activity and food intake—the readings took priority over my health. This was ironic, because my program provided a strong grounding in health, illness, biomedicine, and healthcare systems, therefore, I was reading literature on health inequalities in the United States. On the other hand, the readings impacted me emotionally and psychologically. While reflecting on what to write for this blog, I realized that I couldn’t land on one piece of literature to discuss. I had many critiques about the white theorists/authors we read, many of whom triggered me throughout each quarter. However, that didn’t stop me from contributing to the discussions in my classes and calling them out on the language they used, their approach on writing, and their lack of using an intersectional lens—it was exhausting.
As a working-poor first-generation Mexican-American woman living with a disability, it wasn’t easy reading classist, racist, sexist, and ableist work from theorists who are considered foundational in sociology. For example, Talcott Parsons who was a functionalist whose theories blamed the poor for getting sick and not being able to contribute to the workforce, or Erving Goffman who othered people living with disabilities, and expected them to make the “normals” feel comfortable if they wanted a chance to interact with them. There were times when I forced myself to take breaks, because the literature was emotionally harmful and draining for me. Other times I read a few pages, and couldn’t continue because of the somatic impact it was having on me—my body would shut down.
I often wonder how different my coursework would have been if we read more literature from different theorists who were BIPOC, or spent more weeks on the few we did read. I recall my experience in undergrad, when I was a Chicano and Latin American Studies major and was reading literature from people who looked like me and were bilingual; it was refreshing and I felt a sense of belonging. Now, I can count how much work we read from theorists who were BIPOC during my coursework with one hand. However, I was grateful for the few works we read by W.E.B. DuBois, Patricia Hill-Collins, Whitney N. Laster Pirtle, and Asad L. Asad. But, I wanted to read more of those types of articles. Instead I got the perspectives of white scholars theorizing about why BIPOC suffer the most from inequalities, capitalism, racism, and white supremacy and why they are almost always on the margins of society. Conversely, BIPOC have what Dubois coined as Double Consciousness, which means that Black-Americans and other people of color have the ability to see themselves through the eyes of their oppressors. Additionally, many BIPOC have experienced how unjust this country’s systems and institutions can be, especially for people who look like them. They know that the system isn't broken, but in fact that it was purposely designed to benefit their white counterparts. Thus, they clearly see their identity and oppression in society, which can enlighten students and affirm others—their perspectives are crucial in institutions of higher learning.
When I started at UCSF, I was the only Mexican-American student in class, in fact, I was the only Mexican-American in the department in general. It’s hard enough not to see yourself within the program, and it was especially hard not to see yourself represented within the curriculum, as well. Looking back, the only time that Latinx people came up in the literature was when we were learning to articulate researcher’s work. One particular study was focused on a Latinx community in the east coast—they were the participants/subjects of the research. They were being studied for being on welfare, having a lot of kids, getting hooked on drugs, and having trouble keeping a job. This was heartbreaking for me. For me, it’s important to see people of my race/ethnicity represented in the literature, but not only as subjects—it’s alienating and dehumanizing.
Institutions of higher learning must do more than simply acknowledge that they specialize in race, class, and gender, or their commitments on building a diverse community, engaging in diverse ideas, equity, and inclusion. It is time for these institutions to leverage their power, privileges, and the resources they have at their disposal in order to walk the walk. This means hiring more professors who are BIPOC, providing funding for all students to conduct their research, revamping the curriculum and spending more time on literature from authors and theorists who are BIPOC in order to disrupt and interrogate dominant/bourgeois ideology; encouraging self-care to professors and students so they don’t compromise their health, and finally, focusing on providing support to their BIPOC community from who their power and wealth is extracted from. Although trigger warnings and resources would have been helpful to my experiences during my coursework, I can’t help but imagine what if we didn’t need them? What if professors provided literature that empowered their students, which would allow for rich and conducive discussions, instead of discussions on how harmful the literature was. Some may think this is asking for a lot, but in my opinion, it's the bare minimum.
Berty DC Arreguin is a doctoral student in the Department of Social & Behavioral Sciences at UCSF.
This blog is part of the series called Inquiring Minds: On Decolonizing the Sociological Canon. Students came together to write this series on harmful literature in the sociological canon, which features 5 blog posts.
- Confronting Canon and Empire by Kourtney Nham
- What Does the Writer Owe the Reader? by Kate LaForge
- Embodied Experiences Navigating Harmful Literature by Brittney Pond
- Institutions of Higher Learning Must Do More by Berty Arreguin
- Whose Class is it, Anyways? by Selam Kidane