I remember sitting in the library of my undergraduate program during finals week feeling excited about graduation, but even more excited for graduate school. I was
excited because I was told I could study anything I wanted. As a scholar, I wanted nothing more than to be able to talk about race in my writing. Up to that point, I had not been able to. The scholarship I was introduced to acknowledged race from a distance. My professors steered me away from those subjects. I told myself that was normal and that I must try to be more objective. I needed to be a true researcher. I hoped graduate school would teach me to be an objective researcher of race.
I reached my master’s program and found I enjoyed my scholarship. I enjoy reading, critiquing, and arguing, though I struggle with my writing. I learned an
interpretive paradigm and I loved my coursework in interpersonal, familial, political, and strategic communication. But this track of coursework left me feeling empty. Spiritually, I struggled as I tried to understand communication theory and theories of culture that did not make sense to me. I would continually ask myself how could I research and study communication and not account for race or ethnicity, for inequality. The language of Communication Studies felt, and at times still feels, like I was learning a new language in a foreign land. I still could not study the contexts I wished to. The scope of the theories I studied in my first and second year of graduate school still did not quite encapsulate the communicative phenomena that I believed were evident. At times, I was disillusioned and wanted to give up.
I almost did give up and I did not initially apply to doctoral programs. I did not feel welcome. During a graduate school fair at a national conference, I visited several tables with the intent to gather information for graduate school. I walked from table to table, asking questions. Often, I waited… no response. I would ask again and wait…“One second,” I was told. I waited some more and eventually I was handed a flyer. During that one hour, I tried to make conversation with people who did not want to engage with me for one reason or another. There was one person who gave me hope. I came to her table and she took time to talk with me. She asked about my interests and though I am sure she does not remember, I appreciated her kind words when I mentioned I was interested in intercultural communication. I was holding out hope that intercultural communication was the area of study where I could at least somewhat address inequality. For the most part, I left that conference with a negative impression, feeling academia was not the place for me and that I must find another way. Still, that person stayed on my mind.
It was early March and graduate school deadlines had passed, but I decided it could not hurt to ask if I could still apply to her program. She encouraged me once again, but I did not want to believe her. I did not want to go to school for four more years compromising myself, compromising my beliefs. Throughout my program, I felt like I was telling people that I study ghosts—that I talk with ghosts. That I am a medium who can see what others cannot. I could not spend another four years with people looking at me as though I was disturbed and lost my mind. I did not want to experience those looks anymore. I became painfully self-aware in classes. I learned to be strategic about what I said and how I said it, disciplining myself to speak and write in non-threatening prose.
After a while, I would rather not bring up race and have to argue—not about the validity of my argument, but about my sanity and competence.
And here I am today, interested in the societal construction of knowledge.
Seeking to better understand, from a cultural perspective, how our society communicates the structures and processes through which knowledge is developed and legitimized. By focusing on the contexts of academia and undocumented students, I hoped to flesh out the beliefs, values, and ideologies underlying those communicative practices through which our institutions are built. Centering the bodies of undocumented students has revealed the norms, practices, and communication that contribute to the stratification of communities. My doctoral program and this project have felt, at times, self-indulgent in critical scholarship, and I acknowledge that. I hope my professors in the program do not feel slighted. I want you to understand that it is not because of any negative intent; however, it is personal to me. It is my personal journey toward scholarship that speaks to me—
scholarship that does not leave me feeling spiritually empty, as I attempt to construct myself in resistance to dominant structures.
Though the goal of this project was to learn about the subjective experiences of undocumented students on university campuses, it was also (and still is) a project creating scholarship that resists the status quo and that can be messy. It is a project that resists practices and beliefs that have contributed to a system of inequality. I want to learn to develop the tools necessary to both resist dominant structures and build more inclusive structures that support equitable participation by all in society.
In this study, we uncovered the many barriers undocumented students face throughout their academic career. Chapter Five began with a summary of the findings: