Few Black women are tenured faculty in academia, and the statistics are quite stunning. The Almanac of the Chronicle of Higher Education (2004–2005) shows that, in 2001, 1% of all faculty at the rank of professor were Black females—only 5% of all females at that rank. The numbers are only slightly better for the rank of associate professor, the only other rank where one is likely to be tenured. Of all faculty at the associate professor level, only 2% are Black women; among women at that rank, only 6% are Black. Of assistant professors, 3% are Black females (7.5% of all female faculty at that rank); Black females comprise 8% of female instructors (4% of all faculty at that rank); and 3% of lecturers (5% of all female lecturers).

It needs to be emphasized that, despite thirty years of affirmative action and EEOC oversight, females remain radically underrepresented, but Black females are doubly disadvantaged in the academy. Indeed, as Carole Pigler Christensen argues, academia seems structured to exclude minority women (Christensen 1994, p. 77). Race as a factor of exclusion has been generally ignored, and research and gender studies on promotion and tenure have been based mainly on White female faculty.

Moreover, current trends suggest that things will not get better for Black women. Not only has affirmative action been rejected, but the number of tenured faculty at all institutions has been dramatically shrinking, replaced for the most part with part-time and instructional faculty, who are not eligible for tenure. Thus, full-time faculty across the nation dropped from 65% in 1981 to 56% in 2001, while part-time faculty rose from 35% in 1981 to 44% in 2001. In this paper, I do not seek to explain these larger trends in the academy, nor the fundamental issues regarding the history of racism in America. Rather, my main concern is to identify the institutional features of the academy which help to explain the particularly bad situation of Black females.

It has been said that the academy is a conservative institution staffed largely by people with progressive attitudes. But what has been termed institutional racism remains a serious problem. I am not suggesting that “in-your-face” racism has disappeared from the academy. Unfortunately, it still exists. But to fully grasp outcomes, a more subtle approach is needed, and the tenure process is the best place to look. To be sure, the problem of too few tenured Black females begins well before this: first, in the disadvantages faced by Black Americans in poor neighborhoods with poor schools, leading to the disproportionately low numbers of Black Americans who earn advanced degrees; and, finally, in the hiring process, where, sometimes even among people with the best of intentions, tokenism still functions.

Three independent criteria govern tenure decisions at most colleges and universities: publications, teaching, and community service. But, as is widely known, the publication record dominates. (Hence the dictum: “publish or perish.”) Unfortunately, the old “joke” that getting a teaching award guarantees nonrenewal of one's appointment is not a joke. Confidentiality concerns and differences in the nature of teaching awards make it quite impossible to provide sufficient documentation. In other words, there are teaching awards, and there are teaching awards. Some, no doubt, are based on nothing more than popularity contests—even “the easy A.” Such “honors” are rightly discounted in tenure evaluations. But other awards must be taken seriously—if, indeed, the institution is genuinely committed to teaching (which is contestable, of course). While all institutions at least pay lip service to teaching, the tenured faculty at top-tier research universities tend to avoid undergraduate teaching, and especially introductory courses. The untenured faculty, under pressure of getting published, may stay just one step ahead of the awful textbook. Indeed, increasingly, the basic courses are taught by part-timers.

When it is not exploited hypocritically, some evidence of an institution's commitment to teaching is found in the way in which it organizes teaching awards and rewards recipients. For example, the University of Hawaii offers two highly competitive system awards for teaching: the Regents' Medal, which carries a monetary stipend of $1000; and the President's Award. Both are the outcome of faculty/student committees which, through a long, complex process, systematically employ interviews, written statements, and teaching evaluations as the basis upon which to award prizes. However commendable this effort may be, it is well-known that recipients of these prestigious awards have been denied tenure.

Of course, tenure committees need to weigh the three criteria and are at perfect liberty to deny promotion if the faculty member is weak on publication and/or community service. But, like teaching, community service is not easy to judge. (I return below to issues raised by this criterion.) Presumably, one's publication record is easily judged. Most institutions insist on distinguishing publications that appear in refereed journals from those which do not. Similarly, while books count heavily, received judgments regarding the publisher and the quality of the reviews have as a consequence that some book(s) will not be judged to count in favor of tenure or promotion. But one needs here to acknowledge that in the social sciences and humanities, there is no accepted paradigm for what counts as good work. This, indeed, accounts for the proliferation of journals in these areas and allows, accordingly, that a person who is actually publishing a good deal may become a victim of a disciplinary paradigm, and even ideological commitments on the part of the tenure committee. For example, work which seems more like literature or history may not be viewed favorably by a departmental committee in sociology, especially if it is published in what is not considered a mainstream journal. Similarly, a department may have clear methodological commitments, e.g., regarding the use of quantitative methods, which rule out work that fails to meet these commitments. This proves to be especially troublesome if the publications engage aspects of society: racism, sexism, poverty, imperialism, religion, etc., from a radical perspective, i.e., one that rejects the conventional boundaries of mainstream disciplinary research. Tenure committees thus inevitably confront the “culture wars.” The upshot is that subjectivity enters easily (always) into the final decision, and this gives ample room for subtle forms of racism to affect the outcome.

Following Christensen, “the dominant classes” label minority women as deviant (different, exotic, weak or aggressive, immoral, and/or angry) and inferior, i.e., unable to meet the social or academic requirements (Christensen 1994, pp. 77–78). For example, Belinda Edmondson, a Black academic, is acutely aware that the myth of Black inferiority follows her into the classroom and into conferences as well (Christensen 1994, p. 4). Shelby Steele (1989) also points out that two things make the myth of Black inferiority a far heavier burden: the broadness of its scope and its incarnation in color. There are not only more stereotypes of Blacks than of other groups, but these stereotypes are also more dehumanizing, and more focused on the most despised of human traits: stupidity, laziness, sexual immorality, dirtiness, and so on.

Labeling often opens the door to the differential treatment so often accorded to minority “outsiders” and their resultant exclusion from resources, informal faculty events, socials, and conferences. Unfortunately, minorities working as academics in university systems are still perceived by many in the dominant group (White males) as unqualified individuals who fulfill certain diversity and/or cultural quotas and who threaten the university reputation and faculty by lowering standards. Members of the dominant group often unconsciously maintain control, and they may inflict the pain of exclusion out of fear and the impulse to guard and protect their domain of power and authority. The pain and duress experienced as a result of tokenism is rarely perceived, much less understood or acknowledged by the majority group (Christensen 1994, pp. 77–78).

Thus, Black women who have the good fortune to complete graduate school and receive an appointment to a tenure-track position often meet with resistance, misunderstanding, discrimination in teaching evaluations, and other subtle forms of racism by faculty colleagues and administrators alike. Under the law, persons must be judged by a jury of their peers. But, given the numbers, there is very little likelihood that there will be more than one or two Black women in any unit which generates a tenure committee. Yet more than sheer numbers are involved: the nature of social interaction comes into play. Since Black women may be excluded from the informal but powerful social sphere where networking and exchange of career-building information are often shared, they will lack the support and understanding accorded to members of the dominant group. This need not be racially motivated. But the consequences are clear enough. Before too long in the process, a Black woman will have huge hurdles to overcome, including tokenism and ensuing experiences of isolation and alienation. These Black academics live on the edge of the university community, as colorful constructs. Few of their colleagues have any idea what it means and feels like to be regarded as little more than a token presence in academia.

Community service as a criterion has a two-edged significance. On the one hand, like teaching, it inevitably is undervalued. On the other hand, the work days of the Black female are often exceptionally crowded, as the token Black faculty member is called upon to be a spokesperson for her group and community; to be a link to the community; and to act as a role model and mentor to Black students and other minority or underrepresented students. She also works closely with innovative and creative students who walk on the edges of conventional knowledge, those who challenge existing political and social constructs and are willing to explore as of yet noninstitutionalized ideas and paradigms. Carole Pigler Christensen writes that minority students naturally turn to minority females as role models, particularly when in need of support as they attempt to cope in a racist environment. Minority women do of course have the ability to attract and help to retain minority faculty and students, thereby helping universities to diversify and move in the direction of becoming models of racism-free institutions. However, the time and effort given to students, staff, and colleagues as the “resident expert” on race and ethnic issues is neither recognized nor rewarded when merit pay and tenure are considered (Christensen, p. 82).

Due to the many expectations and demands made on her time by students and faculty, in addition to the African American cultural heritage and ideology of community-oriented activities and political activism, the Black scholar may find herself torn between the requirements of the university and a perceived commitment to her ethnic and cultural communities. In reality, she may feel respected and supported more by the nonacademic Black community than by her academic “peers.”

Black women must cope simultaneously with the anxieties and vulnerabilities common to minority faculty and students situated in a dominant, indifferent, and primarily academic setting. More generally, because of historically exclusionary, racist tactics and institutional constraints, which, being structural, perpetuate the relics of racist history while going unperceived, the experiences of Black women in the academy are fundamentally different from those of White women and other ethnic groups. It is for these reasons that the struggle for inclusion and the development of an authentic voice and identity for Black female faculty members requires endurance and courage, if one is to survive the process. Black female academics are often dancing as fast as they can, but no one else seems to recognize how often the music changes.

In “Black Women in Academe: Issues and Strategies,” Yolanda Moses explores the climate of Black female students, faculty members, and administrators in predominantly White colleges and universities, as well as in historically Black colleges and universities. She focuses on the subtle and not-so-subtle ways that race and gender stereotypes create double obstacles for women: “women have been participants in higher education for more than a century, but they are almost totally absent from the research literature; rarely is the impact of racism and sexism on Black women in academe examined” (Moses 1989, pp. 1–2).

How might Black academics combat these obstacles and stereotypes? Noted Yale University scholar Paule Marshall, a Black female, provides one possible strategy. Evelyn Hawthorne argues that Marshall combats these racialized and gendered obstacles through her “quest for identity through self determination” (Hawthorne 2000, p. 3) and her presentation of literary and scholarly work as “a weapon of struggle” (p. 2). The need to critically explore scholarly work as a weapon suggests how the tensions and dynamics of Black women professors' psyches are reflected in their teaching and writing. Consequently, their scholarship could invigorate the university community as a whole by examining racial issues and coming to terms with sexual, gender, and racial biases latent in the thoughts, feelings, and lifestyles of many faculty members who are not excluded from the basic fabric of a color- and privilege-conscious America. These too often unacknowledged biases can affect not only the tenured position of scholars, but, even worse, the curriculum and classroom pedagogy.

As I have suggested, the climate of social interaction in the ivory tower of academic circles and departmental gatherings is often hostile and exclusionary when it comes to Black faculty members, and especially women. Most Black females in academia are left out of the informal but powerful social sphere where networking and exchange of career-building information and academic politics are often shared. As Christensen summarizes the situation: (1) Academia is structured to exclude minority women, and (2) The process of exclusion and differential treatment begins early and is continuous. Unfortunately, dominant-group (White) women are scarcely less prone to engage in exclusionary, racist tactics than are dominant-group men. The experience of minority women in academia is fundamentally different from that of White women, but this fact is rarely recognized and generally ignored (Christensen 1994, p. 77).

For this reason, Marshall, like other Black scholars, sees the continuum and significance of informal shared space, where information about publishing, editing, promotion, and tenure is transferred and discussed; and where African American female academics create informal contacts for joint proposals, grants, and cultural moments within the boundaries of the university community that effectively hold them back from normal promotions and tenure. Fancy footwork on the academic stage thus becomes a crucial act of self-preservation.

But this is just one act of self-preservation in an academic arena where multiple infringements against both minority scholars and minority students work in tandem. Black students, in particular, have met with growing resentment from university officials, faculty, students, and staff who oppose affirmative action and make derogatory assumptions about and stereotype minority students' intellectual abilities. Growing incidents of racism and campus violence on the national level also contradict the minority students' supposedly seamless integration into formerly all-White institutions. Black professors and students have been harassed by White faculty, administrators, power groups, and pro-White sympathizers, reflecting a national trend toward intolerance and prejudice. Black students often feel uncomfortable in the classroom and report that the nonminority professor's tone of voice or facial expressions may display disbelief or surprise when a Black student responds correctly or offers an otherwise good performance. For these reasons, minority students have continued to demand more representative faculty in the classroom and new, culturally diverse courses (Steele 1989, p. 47).

These are the reasons why, above and beyond her regularly scheduled classes, the Black female professor has many students who seek her out for independent research projects or directed research projects, which require a good deal of time and generally do not get factored into the academic accounting system when it comes to tenure decisions. And if the university recruits (minority) athletes while providing little by way of a support system and mentors, then it is incumbent upon Black faculty to fill the gap, for these students seek out such mentors. In other words, the Black female professor is often very much engaged in mentoring, in addition to community social and political action.

Much of the foregoing is confirmed in “The ABCs of Tenure: What All African-American Faculty Should Know,” by Llewellyn J. Cornelius et al., who observe that

Understandably, this exclusion or alienation may become a critical factor in promotional and tenure reviews. Because of the miniscule representation of Blacks in full-time faculty positions, scholarship on issues germane to Blacks is often judged by White colleagues. Too often, say many minority faculty members, those colleagues are conservative and unappreciative of nontraditional subjects or nontraditional views (Moses 1989, pp. 1–2).

Unfortunately, if a Black academic has focused on student mentoring and community service rather than on research and publication in academic journals, then when the time for tenure review arrives, her contract is not likely to be renewed. Her dossier will likely reveal multiple and conflicting allegiances that reflect a commitment to research, publishing, nurturing, mentoring, excellence in pedagogy, and community service. She may even become an archetype of inspiration for students who desperately need alternative and diverse role models; however, she may be nonetheless rejected by White colleagues who diagnose this as a lack of focus on conventional research and publication in “acceptable” academic journals. Thus, published books of poetry or essays in newspapers may not count as proper research in an ethnic studies program. Similarly, published narratives may not count as appropriate for promotion in a sociology department where “findings” set out in quantitative terms are sought and expected.

When a Black female faculty member's contract fails to be renewed, or she does not receive tenure, we need to examine what criteria were employed by her university and how those criteria were applied. First, in reaching its judgment, the Black woman's department may emphasize what it sees as deficiencies in her performance rather than acknowledging positive attributes. Second, the judgment could possibly have employed criteria that do not match those that other colleges and universities have developed over the past several years. Clearly, a full reading of the record and an appropriate weighing of all factors might well lead to a different conclusion. An appeal, accordingly, may become necessary. But to whom does one appeal?

According to Ernest L. Boyer, there are four grounds that justify and support the renewal of the Black academic's contract, which he calls the “Carnegie categories”: Scholarship of Discovery, Scholarship of Integration, Scholarship of Application, and Scholarship of Teaching (Boyer 1997, pp. 17–23). This policy should emphasize an integrated, balanced standard for outstanding faculty in higher education in the four different areas. These Carnegie categories should be crucial to a college's mission and, by extension, that of its constituent units. Instead, university promotion reviews too often privilege a narrow view of “research” defined primarily as publication in refereed journals that tend to reflect exclusively non-Black issues and scholarship.

The junior female faculty member may also discover that the judgment reached for nonrenewal is capricious in its application of criteria diversely with respect to other members of the department. In such a case, she should argue that any department personnel committee must be able to demonstrate that the criteria utilized for one candidate are those that have been used for all candidates—the basic standard of equity. To make her case, the Black academic must be able to demonstrate that due and equal process has not occurred, and she must address the question whether other Black faculty members, in similar circumstances, have been treated equitably. Moreover, she should argue that a review of all personnel decisions over time in the department and/or college will demonstrate that the criteria used are biased against her. As an African American woman, she should argue that perhaps subconscious myths and stereotypes about Blacks' intellectual inferiority influence tenure decisions and/or the tenure committee's perception that her ethnicity decreases her ability to fully assimilate within an academic environment.

Finally, the Black female academic should point out that the university is supposed to be an equal opportunity employer, which should therefore be committed to affirmative action principles and policies. Her understanding of those policies is that they are not intended to allow any individual, regardless of gender or racial qualities, to receive privileged treatment in any personnel decision. However, she also realizes that, all factors being considered, the institution must seek to assure employment for underrepresented individuals.

In reality, unfortunately, Black faculty members often remain powerless in policymaking, hiring, and retention, despite the fact that the presence of a Black female faculty member undeniably adds to the diversity of the college or university and provides a crucial role model for the students. Black females in academia should no longer need to dance around restrictive departmental definitions of scholarship or narrow promotion standards when they know that they deserve renewal and/or promotion.

Boyer also recognizes that there is a shortage of qualified minority faculty in the field of humanities and the social sciences: