1955

they rose, so others
could crawl,

with strength they gave
their all.

they crawled, so she
could walk,

imparting lessons,
so others could talk.

unmoving, unshaken,
unbound,

they walked, so I could
run,

through every struggle,
every ill,

i sprint, so she can fly
still

from every corner, every
dream she’ll bear,

a force of nature,
beyond compare,

fully intertwined, this
world, their souls

she’ll fly so more can
soar

2019

Madison Givens M.A. Bio:
Madison Givens is a current PhD student whose research explores the intersections of 20th-century African American history, classical studies, and gender, with a focus on how social movements and revolutions shape collective memory across generations. With a deep commitment to examining the enduring impact of generational trauma, Givens’s work bridges historical scholarship and cultural analysis to better understand the roles of women, resistance, and legacy in shaping Black life and liberation struggles.

“The wounded child inside many females is a girl who was taught from early childhood on that she must become something other than herself, deny her true feelings, in order to attract and please others.”- bell hooks

Socialization and indoctrination are two of the greatest enemies that the world has ever seen. Why? When a person or group of people have an agenda that he/she/they desire to teach, disseminate, and engrave interpersonally and/or hegemonically, socialization and indoctrination become the tools. They are the tools of our wounding, our oppression, domination, and debilitation. They become the exacto knife, etching a premeditated agenda into the minds and hearts of people, creating the “wounded child” who is taught to deny themselves and the truth. For women in general, gendered thinking and expectations dictate every aspect of women’s lives and experiences, engendering the “wounded child.” For Black women, specifically, race and gender collide to teach us who we are, what we are, and why we are (exist). Effectively, we are taught to denounce our true feelings and identities from early childhood onward to stunt our growth into healthy, self-actualized adults. We are taught to be “palatable.” Then once wounded, we remain trapped and unable to see the path that leads to our transition from “wounded childhood” to “healing adulthood.” We also become blind to supporting members of our community finding their pathway to healing.

According to the late, renowned scholar bell hooks, “attracting and pleasing others,” denying our true feelings, becomes the crux upon which many girls and women build their whole identities and personalities. For Black women, who are treated as threats to the agenda of oppression and domination, our intersectional socialization and indoctrination requires the premeditated murder of our self-determinism and love. Therefore, we are socialized and indoctrinated to believe we are valueless until we seek our value through others’ expectations, we are given “value” based on others’ expectations of us, and we perform others’ expectations of us to their standards. This is the first stage of our wounding, being taught the lie of our “inferiority” and “dispensability” until we become “palatable,” then perform our palatability well. The second stage comes from us believing the lie, and the third is how we put the lie into action. Stages 1-3 are palatability politics. We are taught to debilitate ourselves; debilitation is most effective when we support our own demise. Then our personal debilitation blocks our work for communal-determinism and love, because we are vital parts of our communities. We are taught to distort, silence, and incapacitate ourselves, other Black women, and by extension our communities. We are socialized and indoctrinated to do the job of our enemies and keep our enemies and their ill-gotten, hegemonic power secure.

Wounding can be premeditated, constant, sporadic, circumstantial, or unintentional. But the results are the same. Our wounding rots us from the inside out. We become unable to transcend our Achilles heel, our need to be palatable to appeal to the supposed “superiors,” the people whose “value” is unquestioned or less questioned. By practicing palatability politics, we become the mammies, who support the white supremacist agenda, which includes racism, sexism, classism, and a plethora of other socio-cultural issues. We practice anti-Blackness, anti- womanness, and other harmful ways of thinking to be acceptable to the white and/or male gaze.

We say things like, “that’s ghetto,” “she/you sound uneducated,” “you’re too loud and aggressive,” “you ain’t going to catch a man looking like that,” “women/girls don’t act like [insert gendered thought here],” “you look better/professional when your hair is [insert imposed comment here], “if you dressed up and wore a little makeup, you could [insert “possibility” here], or “you make us look bad; who is going to respect us if you, [insert complaint here].” We create an intra-communal “they not like us” mentality, ostracizing Black women who are not “palatable.” We implicitly and explicitly demonstrate that going outside of white and/or male prescribed expectations is detrimental to us, instead of seeing the toxicity of that mentality. Our socialization and indoctrination distances us from constructively using our anger to question why palatability politics exist and how and why we must challenge, then kill the “need” to be accepted and validated for our healing. By killing palatability politics, we stop debilitating ourselves and our communities when we internalize and disseminate white supremacy.

The reason for our wounding was for our oppressors to oppress and dominate us as Black women. Our socialization and indoctrination was never meant for our betterment. To seek actual betterment for ourselves and our communities, we must learn to love ourselves, without seeking others’ acceptance and validation. To bell hooks, the appropriate response to our wounding is not “to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget,” but instead we must love ourselves and our people enough to practice a “healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse” by “putting ourselves out of harm’s way.” We must commit to a life-long journey and practice of genuine love for ourselves by not allowing anyone to invalidate us (including ourselves), by knowing our worth and exhibiting our greatness. Despite their attempts to devalue us and make us feel as if we must seek their validation or perish, our oppressors know we are great. We are indispensable and valuable beyond measure. Otherwise, as the late, great Cicely Tyson once said people who demean you would not “bother to beat you down if you were not a threat.” Black women, we don’t owe anyone anything. Oppressors, we owe you nothing. Black women, other people’s perception of us is not our problem. Oppressors, your perception of us is not our problem. It is a you problem; it has nothing to do with us. Black women, we do not have to seek or use a toxic “remedy” (palatability politics) to address a non-existent “problem” that delusionally exist within the minds of people who seek our destruction. Let’s genuinely love ourselves and heal the “wounded child” within.

Love,

Chelsea Buggs

Dr. Chelsea Buggs
Bio: Dr. Chelsea Buggs is a recent graduate of the University of Memphis’s history department. She is also a recipient of the 2023-2024 Dr. William and Helen Lucille Gillaspie Scholarship, among several other awards. Dr. Buggs’s current research interests include: Black women, intersectionality, positionally, and self- and communal-determinism, identity formation and demonstration, Black women’s intellectual-activism, Black women’s agency and autonomy, the connections between white supremacy and Black equality strategies, and her concepts of the “Moral Matron” and “place” identities (not related to geography but socio-racial hierarchy).

It shouldn’t have been hard for me to write a love letter to the strong, Black women in my life.

It shouldn’t have been hard to write a love letter to a woman like my mother, whose quiet spirit showed me how to love through actions and not just words. My mother encouraged my every interest by shuttling me to various practices and enduring every performance with a smile and a hug.

It shouldn’t have been hard to write a love letter to a woman like my mom’s mom, whose proud spirit showed me how to fight against injustice and animosity every day. My granny served as a Black principal in a white city, and she used her interminable strength to fight injustices for her students and eventually for her community as a county commissioner.

It shouldn’t have been hard to write a love letter to a woman like my dad’s mom, whose powerful spirit made her seem so much bigger than her small stature. My grandmother was a feisty woman with a large heart, and she spoiled her grandkids as much as possible.

It shouldn’t have been hard for me to sing the praises of the community of women who poured into me with love, courage, determination, and (when necessary) discipline to make sure I had everything I needed to succeed in a hostile world.

When I was in middle school, I remember one of my teachers telling me, “You have two strikes against you in society – you’re Black, and you’re a woman.” At the time, I had no clue what she meant. But as I got older, I realized she was telling me this to prepare me for the road ahead. Black is beautiful. Black is powerful. Black women are magical. But when the default is set to white and male, anything that deviates from the default is considered imperfect.

So, this love letter is dedicated to all the Black women who taught me how to walk the tightrope of being a Black woman in a world that despises my existence.

The world may not acknowledge the battles you faced and the struggles you endured, but I did, and I still do. As I watched you move through spaces that didn’t welcome you, I learned how to navigate this world as a strong, confident, unapologetically Black, Black woman. Through each of you, I learned how to hold my head high with grace and dignity. I learned how to love myself, with that love sometimes being an act of resistance against the world around me. I learned that I had the love and support of the women around me and protection from God and the ancestors guiding me every single day. And I learned how to share that love with those who needed it the most.

To me, these words I write don’t do justice to the things I learned from you, the love I received from you, and the support I feel from you even if you’re no longer here with me.

To my mom, my grandmothers, my aunts, my cousins, my play moms, and everyone else who laid a foundation for your children to build on, I love you. I am me because you were you. You are love, strength, and beauty. You are wit, grit, and determination. You are hope, healing, and peace. You are sass and class. You are sanctuary and solace. And I pray that my girls see the same things in me that I saw in each of you. Thank you.

Bio: Natonya Listach, Ph.D. Is an Assistant Professor at Middle Tennessee State University and the Assistant Director of their award-winning Speech and Debate Team. Her research interests focus on rhetoric, race, religion, and gender. In her free time (HA!), she enjoys practicing new ways to rest and relax.

My Students Refused to Let Me Cancel Class
Last semester, in Fall 2024, I attempted to give students a “research day,” thinking they would appreciate the extra time to work independently. Instead of relief, my announcement was met with awkward hesitation. One student asked, “Can we still come to class if we want to?” Another added, “This is one of the few places where I actually get to talk to people. I’d rather still meet.” Their responses were a powerful reminder that, for many, the classroom is more than a space for lectures and exams—it’s a place of connection and community.

I quickly adjusted the plan, turning the day into an informal working session where students could brainstorm research ideas, ask questions, and collaborate in a low-pressure environment. The result was one of the most fulfilling sessions of the semester. Students worked in small groups, shared ideas, and were energized by simply being together. That day reinforced for me that teaching isn’t just about imparting knowledge; it’s about creating a space where students feel grounded, supported, and part of something larger than themselves. In a society increasingly defined by isolation, the classroom remains a vital place for human connection.

Storytelling Enriches Engagement
One of the most enriching pedagogical strategies I have embraced is storytelling. Storytelling offers students an opportunity to connect their personal experiences with course material, making learning more meaningful and relatable. For example, in my Gender and Society course, I ask students to reflect on at least three interesting concepts, ideas, or insights from the text and relate them to their own lives or something they’ve observed in society. One prompt invites students to recall specific incidents from their childhood or adolescence in which they learned what it meant to be masculine or feminine, a boy or a girl. They are encouraged to write a story or account of those moments, examining how they internalized gender roles. Another assignment asks students to analyze how gender is presented in popular media—like a movie, music video, or video game—and reflect on the gendered messages conveyed. These assignments are intentionally informal and unstructured to encourage freewriting and creativity.

In my Race and Ethnic Minorities course, I incorporate a photo essay assignment where students submit 3 to 5 original photos that reflect how their racial, ethnic, regional, national, and/or cultural identities are expressed in their daily lives. Each photo includes a brief caption (two to three sentences) explaining the image’s significance. As the first major assignment of the semester, this exercise is meant to encourage students to engage with the material in a deeply personal way. The goal is to foster self-reflection and help students make meaningful connections between their lived experiences and the concepts we explore in class.

Supporting Student Well-Being
Teaching with empathy in 2025 also means prioritizing student well-being in ways that go beyond academic achievement. The past few years have revealed the deep toll societal unrest, economic instability, and global crises have taken on students’ mental health. In response, I aim to cultivate a classroom culture that encourages self-care, compassion, and resilience. In practice, this involves offering flexible deadlines, allowing extensions when necessary, and providing mental health resources. I’ve also made mindfulness exercises a part of my teaching toolkit. This might include a brief moment of silence after an intense classroom discussion about the Battle of Wounded Knee or a freewriting exercise to help process lecture material on gentrification. These practices create space for students to engage with challenging topics without becoming overwhelmed.

I also integrate small group discussions to help encourage a sense of community and shared responsibility for learning. After a lecture, I often divide students into small groups to discuss and process key concepts, share their perspectives, and ask questions they might not feel comfortable posing in front of the whole class. For example, following a lecture on systemic racism, students might discuss in groups how historical inequalities manifest in their local communities or how these issues relate to the material covered. Overall, I aim to develop classroom practices that help students manage stress, regulate their emotions, and process the course content.

Communication as Connection
Finally, I cannot overstate the importance of clear and intentional communication in creating a stable classroom environment. Bi-weekly update emails act as consistent touchpoints, ensuring students have guidance on expectations, deadlines, and resources. In my online courses, I integrate “Reminders” pages at the start of each module to summarize essential tasks and deadlines. In my in-person classes, I display “Reminders” slides at the beginning of class. These practices help students manage their workload and hopefully reduce stress and anxiety.

Providing personalized feedback is central to my teaching philosophy, though it remains a challenge when teaching four or more classes with large enrollments. Fortunately, I have been able to rely on a graduate assistant to help alleviate the workload while still prioritizing my students’ growth. One student evaluation noted that I “do not just give feedback” but “engage with their thoughts,” adding that they “looked forward to writing papers” in my class. The student’s comment speaks to my efforts to demonstrate attentiveness to their ideas.

To Conclude…
Teaching with empathy in 2025 means fostering an environment where students feel seen, supported, and connected. My students have shown me that the classroom has the potential to be a sanctuary where a meaningful community can thrive. That “research day” I tried to cancel? It taught me that being present, offering support, and creating space for connection can be enough to foster learning. Those students turned out some phenomenal papers.

Bio
JoAnna Boudreaux is an Assistant Professor of Teaching and Internship Coordinator in the Department of Sociology at the University of Memphis.  With a PhD in Communication Studies and a Master’s in Sociology, Dr. Boudreaux combines insights from both fields to develop her classroom strategies.  Dr. Boudreaux is dedicated to promoting inclusive, supportive learning environments that encourage personal growth and meaningful academic inquiry. She teaches various courses including Race and Ethnic Minorities, Gender and Society, Marriage and Family, Medical Sociology, Social Theory, and Writing in Sociology.