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| (image of courtesy of Freepik) |
June rolls around with little promise of sunnier climes. Still, I
have reason for (nervous) excitement. At the start of the month, I
begin my latest comeback to higher education. Days before I’m due
to start, the administrative gremlins run amok within The University’s
system. My supervisor, Brigitta, sends me a slightly panicked email
that there’s an error with the start date of my contract.
It’s been postponed by two weeks. Both Brigitta and I are keen that
I begin ASAP. Apparently, one too many
favours has been asked of the HR officer in charge of my file and she’s
no longer inclined to oblige. Somehow, Brigitta manages to convince
her otherwise.
I go on
campus a day earlier than my agreed start date to sort out some more
admin; collecting my staff badge and access gadgets. It’s
a clever move, eliminating a needless layer of stress for my
first official day. En route to the security lodge, I
stumble across the student-led Palestine Solidarity encampments. Like
many academic institutions across the Western world, students are
embarking on a long occupation to convince The University to cut
academic and commercial ties with Israel until it ends its policies of slaughter and oppression.
I make
a mental note to pass by the encampment at a later stage for further enquiries. I don’t want to tarry in becoming active. At the
same time, I’m circumspect as a new member of staff (PhD Fellows occupy a netherworld
between student and personnel). I'm wary of discretion on account of my newness becoming an excuse for cowardice. Nonetheless, it’s important to understand the lay of the land first. Over the next few days, I note Palestine solidarity
graffiti all over campus; scrawled on walls and across the tables in
the large canteen, or large memorial murals
visible from the main road. The University appears to be taking quite
a relaxed attitude to the students exercising their freedom of expression. This is a stark contrast to the brute force unleashed by Belgian police during another peaceful,
student-led protest in central Brussels earlier that month.
After collecting my staff badge and other essentials, I pass
by Brigitta’s office to say a quick hello. We already have a more
formal one-to-one arranged for the end of the week. I hear my name called. It’s one of my new colleagues, Geraldine. She has her own rendez-vous with Brigitta that afternoon. It’s the first time we’re
meeting offline. Originally from Ghana, she’s relocated to Belgium
after doing some further studies in Singapore. I ask how the flat
hunting is coming along. Geraldine – or G, as she’s already
affectionately known by the team – has joined forces with Elif,
another member of our cohort, to look for
somewhere to live in or close to Brussels. I’ve given them the best
advice I can, which they receive with appreciation. In the end, for
the sake of expediency, they settle for somewhere in Flanders; a bit
of a commute from Brussels.
Brigitta
finds us chatting away and gives us a brief tour of the Literature
and Linguistics department which we’re joining. Based on the sixth floor, our open plan office and kitchen spaces boast lovely
views of The University’s verdant grounds.
Later
that week, all four of our team of PhD fellows – Geraldine, Elif,
myself and Janneke – originally from the Netherlands – will meet
IRL for the first time at a department conference that Friday. The other three have already forged a good rapport. For
various reasons, I initially feel a bit of an outsider; not least
because of the unorthodox path that led to my acceptance on
the programme. I’m pretty sure I’m also the oldest of the bunch.
Nevertheless, everyone in the team is open and cordial. Over the
course of the coming weeks, there will be various opportunities to
share more about our diverse backgrounds. Elif, for example, already
has familial connections to Belgium. Her mother, of Cypriot and
Bulgarian heritage, is a Liegeoise born-and-bred. Geraldine
is from the same part of Ghana as my maternal grandfather.
I meet
colleagues from the wider department on an ad hoc basis. Things are
already winding down ahead of summer, even if PhD fellows don’t
strictly follow the usual academic year cycle.
Colleagues are kindly and ready to help, as I become accustomed to new
ways of working and various other particularities. Whilst most of us
are studying in English, Dutch is the administrative
language of the institution. I have neither the time nor inclination
to take Dutch lessons. What I cannot translate with Deep L, I ask my Flemish colleagues. I’m especially reliant on the help of
the department’s (unofficial) Comms liaison, Karolijn. One of my
roles as project coordinator is to help make our team’s research
projects more visible online. We're part of - although still somewhat
independent from - the wider research group, LILAC (Liminality in Literature Academic Centre). Karolijn patiently shows me
the ropes during our shared office days. I try as much to be
self-sufficient but am prudent enough to ask questions – of her,
Brigitta or anybody else – if in doubt or fully at sea.
The month
is busy with activities; interventions by world-renowned scholars,
seminars, the first of many thoroughly stimulating book club-style theory and methodology
workshops and an extravagant University-wide barbeque. There are also more spontaneous occasions to fraternise,
like a lively discussion about contemporary Black women writers over
lunch with Karolijn and others.
By the
grace of God, I’m off to an upbeat start. If there is one thing
that nags at me is the lack of diversity in the department. It
shouldn’t come as a surprise, even in a context when so many are
specialising in studies related to the African continent and its
diaspora. Still, it’s one thing to grasp a
fact only intellectually and another to be confronted by it. The department is 90% Caucasian,
with a significant minority of Chinese students. Simply by recruiting
Geraldine and me, Brigitta has pretty much doubled the presence of
black fellows in the department.
Brussels is supposedly the second most multicultural city in the world (although I'd contend its cosmopolitanism seems more shallow than somewhere like London). Whilst this might be better represented in other parts of The University, it's not the case on our floor. It only takes a cursory glance at the members’ section of the LILAC website to gauge that. The few times I cross paths in the corridor with other black women, it’s all I can do not pounce on them with gratitude. Thankfully, the response has been warm.
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| Palestine Solidarity encampments |
I’m
trying to be careful that my curiosity over other colleagues’ motivations
for studying iterations of Black literature doesn’t turn
into scepticism, if not cynicism. It's one thing if most of the fellows grew up in multicultural contexts, regularly exposed to literature from across the world. Instead, many have come from monocultural villages or small towns in Flanders or the Netherlands.
I don’t want to assume bad faith. It's possible that most take a genuine interest in these themes.
Why shouldn’t indigenous Europeans care about cultures beyond their own? It's not just for Afrodescendants to study subjects related to our
cultures. Neither should we be limited to that. And yet, academia is still a highly elite and colonial space that reflects –
if not reinforces – many of the existing inequalities outside of
its walls. How much is this literary fetishism, if not (unconscious) orientalism, I
wonder? How much is it a case of some more affluent non-European
students wanting to study in the West and exactly what they study is
of less important?
I’m
left questioning the general commitment to solidarity with the historically marginalised all the
more following a discussion with another colleague, Trudi. She spots the
Palestine badge on my raincoat and asks if I’m interested in
joining the activities of staff sympathetic to the cause. I respond
with enthusiasm. Trudi explains how staff hold their own weekly assemblies - in addition to the nightly ones organised by students. Trudi also disabuses me of any notion that The University is especially supportive of the cause. Rumour has it that they're engaging in a tactic of exhaustion, ignoring the students until they wear themselves out.
I also meet Benedict; an associate professor of Anthropology, who is public about his support for the encampments (he also happens to co-organise LILAC events with Brigitta). I am informed by both Trudi and Benedict that an open letter has been circulated just before my arrival. It was
signed by hundreds of staff, including PhD fellows. However, to my
disappointment -one that I readily share with Trudi - it is signed by
very few within our faculty. I’m heartened to see Karolijn’s name
amongst them, as well as that of Vision (originally from Zimbabwe,
she’s one of the few black faces I’ve come across so far).
Outside of work, I share
my reservations with loved ones. My friend Sylvia both challenges some of my assumptions and concurs with my questioning of motives. We can't rule out career advancement, she ventures. It’s
possible some subjects are perceived as ‘sexy’ and du jour, especially post-2020 BLM uprisings.
Diversifying the department is not your particular fight, Sylvia admonishes, You have other avenues of activism.
Give
it time, she reassures, you have four years to see how the faculty evolves.
Towards the end of the month, I also have the opportunity to converse with one of the visiting professors; a respected UK-based academic of Afro-Caribbean heritage. Without me having to probe, she's candid about how isolating it can be as a black female academic working in Literary Studies. More often than not, she's the only brown face in the room. Whilst this in itself isn't reassuring, it's a great comfort to be able to speak to her candidly. Neither is she despondent. Notwithstanding structural barriers, she gently urges me to use my position in future to encourage young black students to consider a career in Literature. A commissioning of sorts.
Soundtrack: Happy by Yinkah, Matthew 4:19 by Lynn Nsongo, Surrender the Day by Jimetta Rose & the Voices of Creation, Tawk Tamahawk, Choose Your Weapon and Mood Valiant by Hiatus Kaiyote.
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