Grieving and Unlearning: Why did I leave, where did I go?
This is the inaugural post in a new blog series — Leadership in Action — that will showcase how organizations can create transformative change in communities by disrupting standard research practices. From our years of collective experience, we know that transformation requires self-awareness, nimbleness and attention to interpersonal growth. This series will be a space for candid reflection and engaged curiosity about the types of leadership and community-led practices necessary to further the work of Equity in Action.
From left: Dr. Brittany Lewis, Dr. Angie Mejia, Dr. Amanda Bolton
When we are pushed into a corner, we are often forced to make drastic changes in our lives. We may have actively avoided these changes out of fear, shame, or scarcity. However, we must face those harsh realities and embrace the processes of grieving and unlearning to get closer to living in our truth. As senior staff at Research in Action, we all realized we were previously working in organizations that were not aligned with our core values. Sharing our stories, our truth, is a part of the process of healing from white supremacy, and being vulnerable and open with these stories reflects RIA’s values.
Dr. Brittany Lewis
When I was a graduate student I ran into bell hooks at the bar of the 2014 National Women’s Studies Association Conference. Hooks advised me not to allow the conservatizing efforts of the tenure process to overshadow my commitment to making my work accessible. In her keynote address, she later described the many emails and phone calls she was receiving from women across the country suffering in silence in academic institutions. Feminism had lost its politics. I would later become one of the women that hooks described.
My path into the academy, starting immediately after my undergraduate degree, was built on my deep love for Black women and families. Most research about Black women frames us as objects for study and the causes of urban poverty – a damaging narrative that distorts the complex realities of structural violence. I wanted to co-create actionable research products with those most impacted to win tangible solutions, not write journal articles that simply mesmerized problems. However, I was always pursuing that passion one foot in and outside the academy, stretching myself thin, and neglecting my health and those around me while believing I had to be connected to the academy to be taken seriously.
“I was stretching myself thin and neglecting my health and those around me while believing I had to be connected to the academy to be taken seriously. ”
Over 11 years, I maintained at least three different jobs while getting a divorce, surviving domestic violence, raising two daughters, and starting two businesses. I allowed the academy's definition of success to constrain how I used my gifts. It was not until I left my teaching position at Bowdoin College that I was ready to face a harsh reality: I was not living up to my purpose as a leader.
I was tired of my work being made available only to a privileged few who often undermined my knowledge and presence in the classroom. I quit my job, moved home, and became a lead researcher at a University center. Although I was leading engaged action research projects in partnership with urban communities, I was still confined by university policies that I had to fight, while trying to convince center leadership of my vision to create more impact.
Like many Black women, I was giving my gifts of innovation away for free. Then, I decided to shut my mouth and create the institution I wish I could have worked at: Research in Action in 2019. On February 6, 2025, I officially left the academy–11 years after that keynote address. Now, I feel like I am living in my purpose as the CEO of Research in Action. That does not mean I feel like my work is easier; it just means that I am fully living in my values.
Dr. Angie Mejia
I had the uncommon experience of joining a PhD program that nurtured my love for creativity. Half of the people in my graduate cohort were Women of Color and my classes were taught by scholars using queer, feminist, and decolonial frameworks. I had faculty in my committee, like Chandra P. Monhanty, who shaped the way for future transnational feminists of color. I was shown the possibilities of community members as knowledge co-creators. This was an environment of feminist care and intellectual transformation. However, I was also sheltered from understanding how violent academic environments can be to Women of Color researchers.
In 2019, my first experience as an Assistant Professor was witnessing a senior colleague confront a presenter on diversity and inclusion practices in our classrooms. He claimed that “diversity and all of that” alienates “young white” men and drives them to “vote for Trump.” During the break, other colleagues informed me that this behavior was common and that only one person had addressed it with him. Later in the term, this same colleague labeled me “the diversity hire.” The department head minimized my concerns, describing the colleague’s behavior as “the way he was.” In 2023, several tenured colleagues voted against my request to apply early for tenure. The collective response was that I was not ready, even though I had more publications and grants than several of the tenured members of this body.
These experiences show the subtle mechanisms of discipline that Women of Color encounter when trying to transform academic spaces. Navigating this environment meant I could not develop a research agenda that centered on community knowledge. Staying in such an environment meant that any impact research that empowered the community would be jeopardized. For me, infusing Women of Color ethics—care, accountability, and justice— went against the “Minnesota Nice” culture on and off campus. It was time to leave.
“These experiences show the subtle mechanisms of discipline that Women of Color encounter when trying to transform academic spaces. Navigating this environment meant I could not develop a research agenda that centered on community knowledge. ”
My experience is not unique. As Joshua Dolezal notes in the article Why Faculty of Color Are Leaving Academe, faculty member[s] of color are “isolated, undermined, and gaslit… [and] unchecked institutional bias make some scholars wonder if academe actually wants faculty of color.” Did academe want someone like me? In the end, it did not matter. Community-engaged research centering accountability, anti-racism, care, and collective transformation is antithetical to the deeply embedded white supremacist culture of the academy. Leaving was the only thing that made sense to me.
Dr. Amanda Bolton
I entered corporate America upon earning my Ph.D because there were very few academic positions in my field of criminology, with numerous graduates competing for the same coveted opportunities. But I eventually left after years of navigating its deeply problematic culture.
In market research, I applied my graduate skills but felt uncomfortable primarily helping organizations increase profits rather than creating positive social change. Coming from a social justice background grounded in sociology and psychology, this capitalist framework of making someone richer didn't align with my values or motivations.
The most taxing aspect was being the only person of color in senior management. I worked harder than my white counterparts for basic respect while facing more intense scrutiny. My white colleagues, especially men, were protected during layoffs while I was repeatedly placed on the chopping block. Daily interactions became battlegrounds where colleagues spoke to me condescendingly, like a child — treatment I never witnessed them directing at others.
“Daily interactions became battlegrounds where colleagues spoke to me condescendingly, like a child — treatment I never witnessed them directing at others.”
One particularly disturbing incident occurred when my team needed to travel for a project. My white colleagues expressed concerns about visiting "the hood" and demanded accommodation to avoid areas where they felt unsafe. Later, when I raised concerns about traveling to a location with a strong white supremacist and KKK presence, management dismissed me with jokes about "great hiking trails" in the area. My legitimate safety fears were treated as trivial while their discomfort was prioritized.
The tokenization was relentless. I discovered the company had used my photograph in proposals without my knowledge, falsely advertising diversity when I wasn't even assigned to those projects. I became the unwilling spokesperson for all people of color, bearing an exhausting emotional burden that made focusing on actual work nearly impossible.
I later experienced the contrast during a consulting project with other Black Ph.D.s. In that space, my ideas were valued, and I could fully concentrate without battling underlying microaggressions. As my project lead observed, "This is what it feels like to be white." In environments where I'm understood, not tokenized, I've finally found my voice. At RIA, my voice, lived experience, and perspectives are valued both internally amongst coworkers and in our collaborative work with community partners. This intentional space allows me to be my authentic self without performing for others' comfort, creating an environment where I can fully contribute without compromise.
An invitation
Did you make a decision to leave a place that didn’t value your contributions, acknowledge your identity, or tokenized you? Please share this post on your social media channels and start a conversation. Let’s work together to break the silences that diminish our potential, and put our authentic leadership into action!