In this episode of the "Collage" podcast, Rev. F. Willis Johnson interviews Rev. Aaron Rogers, director of the St. Stephens Episcopal Church in Ferguson, Mo.. Their conversation acknowledges the forthcoming 10-year remembrance of Michael Brown's death and the Ferguson uprising. Johnson and Rogers discuss the "pilgrimage" that introduced them to one another and impacted their vocational endeavors.
California’s teacher shortage highlights inequities in teacher education. Supporting and retaining teachers of color starts with racially just TEPs.
The LAist reported a shortage of teachers in Southern California, and especially a shortage of teachers of color. In California, almost 80% of public school students are students of color, while 64.4% of teachers are white. (Nationally, 80% of teachers are white, and over 50% of public school students are of color.) The article suggests that to support and retain teachers requires an investment in teacher candidates (TCs), mostly through full funding given that many teachers can’t afford such costly fast paced teacher education programs (TEPs), where they have no time to work for extra income. Ensuring affordability for these programs to recruit and sustain teachers, and especially teachers of color, is absolutely critical, but TEPs must consider additional supports, including culturally relevant curriculum, faculty of color they can trust and space for them to build community among themselves.
Hundreds of thousands of aspiring teachers enroll in TEPs, yet preservice teachers of color are a clear minority. A study revealed that 48 U.S. states and Washington, D.C have higher percentages of white TCs than they do white public-school students. Furthermore, in 35 of the programs that had enrollment of 400 or more, 90% of enrollees were white. Scholar Christine Sleeter declared an “overwhelming presence of whiteness” in teacher education and expert Cheryl Matias discussed how TEPs generate “emotionalities of whiteness,” meaning feelings such as guilt and defensiveness in white people, might result in people of color protecting white comfort instead of addressing the root issues and manifestations of racism.
Isolation and pushout of teachers of color, as well as their resilience in the field is well documented. What’s less known is the struggles of teachers in training of color in TEPs and what helps them thrive. Our recent research documented two case studies that involve future teachers of color (FToC) affinity groups. What we found in this study and our continued research of FToCs is that many of these TCs experienced a dominating presence of whiteness and added labor on their part to advocate for their needs.
This manifested in different ways as we saw from just one cohort of FToC. Over the FToC meetings, TCs shared their joys and challenges, but ultimately used the time to organize to better the program. They drafted up key issues and suggestions for TEP leadership and requested a meeting with the director. Several issues were addressed by FToC members, one being poor relationships with cooperating teachers (the classroom teacher they served their practicum with). Another major issue was not having support to teach Ethnic Studies classes, which meets the new California requirement for high school graduates to take an Ethnic Studies course. Not only did they express that the TEP was ill prepared to train candidates in Ethnic Studies, but they experienced resistance to being placed in Ethnic Studies classrooms despite a robust Ethnic Studies program in the partnering school district. When candidates were placed with an Ethnic Studies teacher, they were with a white cooperating teacher.
In general, FToC members felt that coursework was absent of culturally relevant pedagogy. When classes were centered around race and justice, they felt that white voices overpowered the classroom and that their white instructors allowed this. Candidates wanted instructors to take more accountability for enforcing a balanced conversation, instead of candidates of color feeling left out of these conversations despite their lived experiences of racism. Overall, there were very few critical instructors of color in the program that the TCs of color could trust.
Yet, despite the group’s efforts, all while student teaching and completing coursework, the director responded to their concerns with, “I hope this doesn’t sound dismissive, I think a lot of things you bring up sound like very generic things that are not feeling prepared to teach. I think it’s really normal to feel like you’re not prepared to teach.”
Unfortunately, this does sound dismissive. Unfortunately, experiencing such challenges related to racism and whiteness is not generic, should not be “normal,” and is not what all new teachers experience. As former classroom teachers and teacher educators of color, we know that TEPs need to be intentional with supporting TCs of color. A start might look like creating the space, time and resources for an FToC affinity group. Furthermore, FToC must be supported by the institution, where the faculty of color or students of color who run them are materially supported, through course releases or financial compensation. Relatedly, TEPs need to hire more critical professors of color so that the labor does not fall on just one professor to hold space for TCs of color. As 91% of tenure track instructors in TEPs are white, programs need to commit to a collective racial literacy, where all instructors have an understanding of how structural racism operates, can teach in culturally sustaining ways, and are versed in the unique needs of teachers of color.
We can learn from this case study of one FToC, whose members were not just aspiring teachers but stepped up as leaders to advocate for a better TEP experience. There must be more intention to sustain teachers of color in the profession, beginning with preservice teacher education. TEPs must be intentional in creating equitable and racially just teacher education that is needed to combat whiteness and enact change to better the experience for future teachers of colors and in turn, their students.
Hui-Ling S. Malone is a Public Voices fellow of The OpEd Project and the University of California Santa Barbara, where she is an Assistant Professor of Education.
Paula CT Sevilla is a Ph.D. Candidate in Education at the University of California, Santa Barbara
Zohran Mamdani, October 26, 2025
In a sweeping rebuke of President Donald Trump’s second-term agenda, voters in three key races delivered historic victories to Democratic candidates Zohran Mamdani, Mikie Sherrill, and Abigail Spanberger—each representing a distinct ideological and demographic shift toward diversity, equity, and inclusion.
On Tuesday, Zohran Mamdani, a 34-year-old democratic socialist and state Assembly member, was elected mayor of New York City, becoming the city’s first Muslim mayor. In Virginia, Abigail Spanberger defeated Republican Lt. Gov. Winsome Earle-Sears to become the state’s first female governor. And in New Jersey, Mikie Sherrill, a moderate Democrat and former Navy helicopter pilot, won the governorship in a race that underscored economic and social policy divides.
These victories, which came just one year after Trump’s return to the White House, are widely seen as a repudiation of his administration’s policies and rhetoric. “Democrats are smoking Donald Trump and Republican extremists,” declared House Democratic Leader Hakeem Jeffries on X.
Mamdani’s win in New York City was particularly symbolic. Running on a platform of affordability, police reform, and inclusive governance, he defeated former Gov. Andrew Cuomo, who ran as an independent, and Republican Curtis Sliwa. “My friends, we have toppled a political dynasty,” Mamdani said in his victory speech. “I wish Andrew Cuomo only the best in private life. But let tonight be a message: New York belongs to all of us”.
He continued, “We are breathing in the air of a city that has been reborn. This is a mandate for change, and we will deliver exactly that—with empathy, transparency, and a government that reflects our diversity”.
Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer praised Mamdani’s “well-earned and historic victory,” calling it “proof that inclusive leadership can triumph over fear-mongering and division”.
In Virginia, Spanberger’s win marked a significant shift in a state that had been trending Republican. Her victory over Earle-Sears, a Trump-aligned candidate, was decisive—earning 56.1% of the vote to her opponent’s 43.7%. Spanberger, a former CIA officer and congresswoman, emphasized pragmatic governance and reproductive rights throughout her campaign.
“This is a win for every Virginian who believes in facts, fairness, and the future,” Spanberger said on election night. “We are building a commonwealth where every voice matters—regardless of zip code, background, or belief”.
Political analysts noted that Trump’s influence may have hindered Earle-Sears’ chances, as voters expressed concern over national instability and the erosion of democratic norms.
In New Jersey, Mikie Sherrill’s gubernatorial win reflected the power of a center-left coalition focused on economic recovery, education, and public health. Her campaign emphasized bipartisan solutions and rejected Trump-era polarization.
“Our assignment everywhere is to send the strongest fighters for the working class wherever possible,” said Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y., in support of Sherrill’s victory.
Sherrill herself framed the win as a call for unity: “New Jersey chose hope over fear, facts over fiction, and inclusion over exclusion. We will govern with integrity and compassion”.
Exit polls and post-election analyses suggest that these wins were not isolated but part of a broader voter backlash against Trump’s second-term agenda. From immigration crackdowns to rollbacks on civil rights, many voters viewed the elections as a chance to restore balance and reaffirm democratic values.
These results make one thing clear: Americans are rejecting authoritarianism and embracing leaders who reflect the nation’s diversity and champion equity and inclusion.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of the Fulcrum. He is also the publisher of the Latino News Network.
When Charlie Kirk was tragically shot and killed on September 10th in Utah it sent shock waves through the country and raised a number of profound questions about his legacy and the views he spread through his Turning Point U.S.A. organization. Many went to the internet to find his quotes to perhaps hold a mirror up to his brand of white nationalism.
One quote should send chills down your spine. On a June 11th, 2024, episode of The Charlie Kirk Show, Kirk makes references to “stoning” and “putting gays to death” as the perfect law in response to Youtuber, Ms. Rachel who used the bible to suggest Pride month and support for it was an example of loving thy neighbor. While Kirk did not explicitly state or advocate the stoning of gays, his tongue and cheek usage of the passage described by some as a “joke” demonstrates a much longer history of gay hate in the United States and how the bible has been used to support anti-gay legislation.
Earlier this year Hillary Rodham Clinton remarked that the Supreme Court “will do to gay marriage what it did to abortion” sounding the alarm that marriage equality could be lost. In fact, recent calls for the overturning of gay marriage could soon be heard by the Supreme Court. If gay marriage falls many believe it could be a domino effect leading to a ban on interracial marriage as well.
For women, LGBTQ, African American, and American Indian people the 14th Amendment changed lives and gave many people protections to live free from legal discrimination and exclusion. The amendment to the U.S. Constitution formally granted U.S. citizenship to former slaves and contained three new limits on state power: “a state shall not violate a citizen’s privileges or immunities; shall not deprive any person of life liberty, or property without due process of law; and must guarantee all persons equal protection of the laws.”
What happens when states are allowed to discriminate?
If Obergfell v. Hodges (the case that made same-sex marriage legal) falls it could be yet another signal that our democracy is crumbling, not just for the LGBTQ community but for all Americans who seek equal treatment under the law. This includes religious freedom, fairness in employment practice, and a slew of other areas that impact white, Black, male, female, gay and heterosexual people alike.
Before the ratification of the 14th amendment on July 9th, 1868, Black people, American Indians, women and other ethnic and racial minorities did not have legal voting rights and other protection guarantees afforded to white citizens.
In 1875 for example, the Supreme denied women the right to vote in Minor v. Happersett. It would then be another 45 years before white women got the right to vote under the 19th amendment. Black women and other women of color still did not gain the full right to vote until 1965 just 60 years ago. In fact, American Indians, the first people of the United States, did not obtain citizenship until 1924 and could not vote in all states until 1957.
These rights were further extended by the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts. There is a growing risk that if Obergfell could fall (as Kim Davis a former county clerk who refused licenses to gay couples is appealing the decision which could go to the Supreme Court), and same sex marriage could once again become illegal many are opining that interracial marriage (also protected under the 14th Amendment) could follow in much the same way that Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022 in the case of Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization.
While women, people of color and the LGBTQ community gained more rights, it would take nearly another 100 years for the Civil Rights Act (1964) and the Voting Rights Act (1965) to be passed and to provide more meaningful legal protections and equal rights. These acts are also under attack and would negatively impact all Americans.
So, if gay marriage falls so could voting rights for women. So could anti-discrimination laws that protect interracial marriage. Repealing gay marriage would lead to a repeal of protections for all Americans.
So let this be a call to all of us to protect Civil Rights for this and future generations. Let us stand united to defend the freedoms of us all. The alternative is a world where none of us is free.
Dr. Andrew Jolivétte is a Professor of Sociology and Afro-Indigenous Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara, an Adjunct Professor of Ethnic Studies at UC San Diego, and a Public Voices Fellow of the OpEd Project at UCSB. His latest book, Research Justice: Methodologies for Change, was published earlier this year.
Conservative attacks on higher education and DEI reveal a deeper fear of diversity—and the racial roots of America’s “ivory tower.”
The Trump administration and conservative politicians have launched a broad-reaching and effective campaign against higher education and Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion efforts in particular. These attacks, often amplified by neo-conservative influencers, are not simply critiques of policy or spending. At their core, they reflect anxiety over the growing presence and visibility of marginalized students and scholars within institutions that were not historically designed for them.
The phrase ivory tower has become shorthand for everything critics dislike about higher education. It evokes images of professors lost in abstract theorizing, and administrators detached from real-world problems. But there is a deeper meaning, one rooted in the racial history of academia. Whether consciously or not, the term reinforces the idea that universities are–and should remain–spaces that uphold whiteness.
When critics lament the state of the ivory tower, they are often reacting not just to elitism, but to the changing demographics and priorities of colleges and universities. As enrollment by students of color and women have been making gains and new areas of study have emerged and gained traction–from ethnic studies to gender studies to critical race theory–we’ve seen a corresponding backlash: funding cuts, attacks on DEI, and growing calls to limit what can be taught.
The roots of exclusion in higher education run deep. The nation’s first colleges—Harvard, Yale, Princeton—were created for the sons of wealthy white elites. They were built, in part, by sweat generated through the Transatlantic Slave Trade. Higher education institutions were also constructed on land stolen from indigenous peoples, and for centuries, those in power within the ivory towers systematically excluded Black, indigenous, and other marginalized groups. Even today, that legacy persists.
Across the country, students from low-income families still struggle to access and complete college. The graduation gap between students from the lowest and highest income groups remains stark, and public universities face increasing pressure to cut programs that serve students pursuing social justice and public service careers.
“Ivory” has long been a symbol of purity and exclusivity–its colonial history tied to European extraction from Africa. When applied to the university, the metaphor suggests not only elitism but also racial exclusivity. In that light, the “ivory tower” becomes not just a metaphor for detachment but for a structure built to elevate whiteness.
As sociologists, we see how these dynamics play out. Black intellectuals are more likely to have their work dismissed as "activism." Women scholars are scrutinized more harshly when they challenge dominant paradigms. Indigenous knowledge systems are often viewed as less rigorous than Western models. And public attacks tend to target the very disciplines—African American studies, feminist theory, sociology—that question existing power structures.
When critics call for the dismantling of the ivory tower, we should ask: Which parts of the university do they want to dismantle, and which do they want to preserve? Who benefits from these changes?
Universities were built as sites of exclusion, designed to reinforce class, gender and racial hierarchies, and have long operated as gatekeeping institutions. And, perhaps these unsustainable features of our history are the very reasons they are vulnerable now. If universities had made themselves accessible to all decades ago, perhaps Americans would not have elected those who seek to destroy them now. If we are going to critique higher education, we must do so honestly.
Higher education is not without its problems. Tuition is rising, student debt is crushing, and too many students are taught by underpaid adjuncts. But the answer isn’t to reject higher education altogether. The answer is to transform it.
We need universities that are accessible, equitable, and publicly supported. We need institutions that recognize the value of diverse disciplines and diverse people. And we need to stop pretending that critiques of the "ivory tower" are always neutral. Too often, they mask a desire to return universities to a time when fewer voices were heard and fewer people had access.
If we are truly committed to equity in education, then we must be honest about the words we use and the histories they reflect. It’s time to reconsider the ivory tower–both as a metaphor and as a model for our institutions.
Yolanda Wiggins is an assistant professor of sociology at San José State University and a Public Voices Fellow at The OpEd Project.
Megan Thiele Strong is a professor of sociology at San José State University and a Public Voices Fellow at the The OpEd Project and a member of the Scholars Strategy Network.
