Identity Labor

Why teachers of color burnout at predominately white schools…and what to do about it.

Last year, my colleague* handed me a resignation letter informing me that she would no longer be the Latinx affinity group student adviser. I read a mixture of sadness and relief on her face as she explained that being the students’ adviser had gotten to be too much. She had signed up to help students decorate for cultural celebrations, teach them how to make her grandmother’s famous empanadas, and learn along with them about Latinidad. Instead, she had spent the past few years helping the students process “build the wall” chants and reminding them that they were just as brilliant and capable as the white students in their elite New England boarding school. My colleague was exhausted. She was trying to navigate her own identity as a young Latina teacher at a predominately white institution and mentoring students though that process was simply too much for her to handle.

My colleague’s experience was not unique. Teachers of color at predominantly white institutions are regularly expected to take on extra work that requires a tremendous amount of energy but is also unrecognized and unpaid. White colleagues are neither expected to do this extra work and are often not equipped to do the work. Identity labor is the special type of emotional labor performed by persons with a marginalized identity when they are in culturally dominant environments. The three characteristics of identity labor are 1) the person performing the labor is expected to manage the emotions of those receiving the labor, 2) the person performing the labor does so involuntarily, 3) the person performing the labor is expected to educate those receiving the labor. Identity labor is contextual and anyone navigating a marginalized identity in a dominant culture’s space could perform it, however in educational settings women of color perform the bulk of identity labor.

This paper represents conversations with teachers of color over my eight years working as an equity and inclusion leader at independent schools in New England. The teachers named in this paper range from 24–62 years old and have been teaching from one to forty years. Every conversation I have had with a teacher of color has informed my concept of identity labor and the quotations I chose are representative of those conversations. Pseudonyms are used and identifying information has been changed.

I chose independent school teachers partially because of convenience (I am an independent school educator), but mostly because each of these teachers’ schools is actively engaged in a project to increase racial equity at the school. The emphasis on race and related discussions on campus has increased the amount of identity labor performed by these teachers of color. The identity labor that has always been present is amplified by the heightened attention to race.

Managing Emotions

Hochschild (1983) coined the term emotional labor when she wrote about the experiences of people who have jobs that require them to interface with the public in a manner that entangles the emotions of the worker and the customer. Jobs that involve emotional labor share characteristics such as: direct contact with the public, requirement that the worker produce an emotional state in the customer, and supervision and surveillance of the worker’s visible emotions.

Hochschild defines emotional labor as, “a situation where the way a person manages his or her emotions is regulated by a work-related entity in order to shape the state of mind of another individual, such as a customer.” Jobs like restaurant servers, flight attendants, and childcare workers require a large amount of emotional labor. Hochschild argues that emotional labor results in the estrangement of the worker’s emotions to herself while in the workplace.

While Hochschild’s term has taken on various other meanings in popular culture (Wilkinson 2020, Fessler 2020, Beck 2020 ), her original definition calls into attention the commodification of emotions and the dehumanization that results from the commodification. When people are paid for their work, their work becomes a separate entity from themselves and they are alienated from it (Marx 1927). When people are paid for emotional labor, their job is causing them to be alienated from a defining human characteristic. The impact of emotional labor is well-documented as researchers have studied people who work in the hospitality industry, caregivers, and first responders (Ye and Chen 2015).

The emotional labor of teachers is a well researched topic (Ye and Chen 2015, Humphreys et. al 2015). In addition to being experts in their subject, teachers often also perform the roles as parents, therapists, and entertainers — all roles which require huge amounts of emotional labor. Candace, a 33 year old Black woman who teaches biology said,

“I show up every day for my kids even if I don’t feel like it. It could be the worst day, but I’m still going to show up and slap a smile on my face because I don’t ever want the kids to be concerned about me”

Identity labor requires the person performing it to manage both their own emotions and the emotions of those who consume their labor. For teachers of color, identity labor is an additional burden on top of the emotional labor that all teachers perform for their students. Sometimes the labor is light and fun, “The Black kids always come to my room for lotion. They know I won’t let them be ashy.” Other times the identity labor is heavy,

“After those women were murdered in Atlanta, I got really scared to leave my house. It was so hard to show up to work every day but I did it because I wanted to show my students how to be brave.”

Most of the teachers interviewed said that while it was sometimes difficult to manage their emotions so that students could feel safe and secure, this was exactly what they had agreed to do when they became teachers. One teacher called it, “a great honor” and another said “they are kids and this is why I am here.”

Managing the emotional state of colleagues is an unwanted and more laborious task. Annie, a 42 year old Asian woman who is an English teacher, shared some post-meeting advice from her supervisor.

“After the meeting, my department chair asked me if we could talk. He told me that he just wanted to give me some ‘helpful’ feedback. I guess some of our colleagues thought I was too aggressive and uncollegial when I made my comments. I smiled and thanked him for his helpful feedback.”

Annie goes on to talk about how she can’t stop thinking about this interaction. Her department chair’s comments made her feel anxious and self-conscious in meetings because she isn’t sure how her presentation of self is landing for others. His comments also made her feel angry because she thinks that his feedback was inappropriate and unfair. She wishes that he had defended her when colleagues criticized her. Annie also shared that she was angry with herself for not trying to defend herself. The exhaustion of this mental gymnastics has caused her to consider leaving her school.

“It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.” (Du Bois 1897).

When faculty of color perform identity labor they are forced to remain conscious of and police their emotional state in addition to being conscious of how they are perceived by their colleagues. Peke is a 45 year old Black man who teaches mathematics,

“The conversation got so racist when we were talking about tracking students in math classes that I seriously just wanted to flip over the table and walk out. Do they even understand how racist they sound? Instead, I had to calmly share some article that I found out about how tracking increases racial inequity. I know that if I get too upset they will only see me as the angry Black man”

The implications for teachers of color not working hard to manage their own emotions so that they can elicit only positive emotions in their colleagues is tremendous. Teachers worry that their students of color may be underserved if they don’t have a teacher of color to advocate for them in the room. Teachers also worry that their own professional opportunities may be limited because white colleagues will label them difficult to work with or too emotional. Attempting to be fully authentic feels impossible to Sakura, a 53 year old Asian woman who teaches Japanese. Sakura says, “I’ve stopped doing everything that makes me a proper Japanese lady because I’m tired of people telling me that I don’t fit in.” She goes on to explain that she has twice applied for leadership positions at her school and she thinks that she has not gotten a leadership position because her white colleagues find her to be too different. She’s noticed the way her colleagues regard Asian students’ cultural behaviors as strange and she suspects they think the same about her. Sakura said that she is afraid to say anything to her colleagues about this because she doesn’t want to make things worse for herself and be perceived as too sensitive or make her colleagues feel bad. She chose not to say anything in hopes of advancing her career.

Emotional labor requires significant cognitive resources (Zaph 2002). Emotional labor also takes a psychological toll and can cause a person to feel alienated from their own emotions and have difficulty naming their own emotional state (Hoschild 1983). Likewise, the process of identity labor is tremendously taxing and can lead to high stress and burnout of the people who perform it.

Involuntary

The involuntary nature of identity labor may be its most salient characteristics. Because identity labor is a situational type of emotional labor related to the demographics of the environment and the profession, teachers of color will perform identity labor as long as schools employ a predominately white teaching staff. All of the faculty of color interviewed reported the work they do as people of color as being work they have to do.

Sometimes the involuntary work is performed out of a feeling of obligation to the students. As schools braced themselves for the end of the Derek Chauvin trial by offering affinity spaces and opportunities to process the news cycle, they implicitly relied on Black faculty to provide the support for Black students. Winston, a 40 year old Black man who teaches French, shared

“I am just so tired. It seems like every couple of weeks a new Black person is shot and killed by police and I have to get my own feelings together really fast so that I can host an event for students who are just as scared and angry as I am. I don’t know how to get out of this.”

Winston goes on to say that he knows students appreciate him, but he wishes that he didn’t always have to be the one to step forward. Winston also goes on to say that as one of just a handful of teachers of color on campus, he doesn’t feel like he has a choice in offering processing spaces for students of color. He knows that students need him and that they appreciate him, but he is unsure if his colleagues fully understand the emotional toll of his work in these moments.

Peke discussed his experience with having a heavier workload than his colleagues,

“I have these two girls who have been dropping by my classroom for extra help for the past three years. I’ve never taught either of them, but I think they come by because I am the only Dominican in the math department.”

Peke goes on to say that he wished his colleagues would acknowledge the extra work that he is doing for students. He is aware that he gets more requests for study groups and after school help sessions than his departmental colleagues. He’s conflicted about it because he wants a more even work distribution and he believes that he is doing unique labor in connecting with students of color that his white colleagues could not do.

Jennifer describes her experience with her school’s mentoring program for first year teachers. Eager to develop her leadership skills and give back to her profession, she volunteers to be a mentor in the history department where she has been teaching for the past six years. She is not assigned one of the two new teachers in the history department and is instead assigned to a new Latina teacher in the Science department. When Jennifer asked why her mentee was in a different department, her division head told her that she paired the two because she thought “they would have a lot in common.” She left the interaction not entirely trusting her division head. Did he think that Jennifer would be a poor mentor for someone in her department? Did he think that Jennifer was only capable of being a mentor for a person of color? Did he match them because of common interests? She feared that she would come across as unprofessional if she asked more questions.

Jennifer went ahead and served as the new teacher’s mentor, but felt uncomfortable about it the whole year.

“I just kept telling her that I don’t know anything about physics. I felt bad. I really like her and I really want to help her grow as a teacher at X, but I feel like I am doing her a disservice as a mentor. They just put us together because we are both women of color…I know that I am not the best mentor for her.”

Jennifer volunteered to do a job but asked to do another because of her identity as a Latina. She was confident about the job she volunteered to do, but felt insecure about her ability to do the job well that she was asked to do. Jennifer’s experience echoed other teachers’ experiences as they talked about all of the additional tasks they regularly performed because they were one of just a few people of color on staff who could provide the identity based support.

Teachers of color involuntarily perform this identity labor because refusal to do so may result in the lack of professional opportunities. Vivian describes an incident,

“One time one of my colleagues asked me if I could read this book that she wanted to teach in class over the weekend. She wanted to know if I thought it was racist. When I told her that I had a busy weekend already planned, she told everyone in the department that I wasn’t willing to help her.”

The risk of colleagues regarding them as unprofessional, unfriendly, or uncollaborative all contribute to teachers of color reluctantly participating in managing the emotions of white colleagues and educating white colleagues.

Educating Colleagues

Teachers of color also report being asked to educate the white colleagues about the experiences of being a person of color. The expectations come in myriad forms from intrusive personal questions to depending on teachers of color to lead all discussions about race. Teachers of color reported not wanting to do this labor, but feeling like if they didn’t do it they would be perceived negatively.

The burden of representation (Mercer 1990) or the expectation that an individual in a marginalized group will represent the beliefs, desires, and needs of the whole group is one of the ways teachers of color are asked to educate their colleagues. In a nearly all white department meeting, the lone teacher of color may find themselves reluctantly speaking on behalf of all people of color while simultaneously acknowledging that they cannot speak on behalf of all people of color. Peke said, “I know that I can’t speak on behalf of all Black people, but I know that I can speak on behalf of Black people better than my white colleagues.”

Jennifer, a 37 year old Latina who teaches history, said that she tries to find friendly ways to signal to her colleagues that she doesn’t want to teach them. “I always tell white colleagues to go buy a book or listen to a Ted talk first. I hate it when they are asking me to be their personal Google.” She went on to explain that she did start a library of diversity, equity, and inclusion resources for her department. On the request of her department chair, she also gave a presentation on critical race theory for her colleagues and led small discussion groups. Jennifer cannot recall another peer-to-peer education moment like this in her six year tenure at her school. She doesn’t think the requests are justified, but she becomes an unwilling participant anyway.

Teachers of color reported feeling frustrated when asked to weigh in issues related to being a person of color. Some of the frustration comes from the burden of an increased cognitive load (thinking about the needs of a whole group and thinking about the needs of a subgroup), but much of the frustration also comes from an increased emotional load.

Teachers of color also educate their peers when they call attention to who is excluded from a conversation. Vivian, a 45 year old Black woman who teaches English, gives an example of what she was thinking as she attended a student support meeting.

“I was just sitting there wondering if anyone was going to notice that there were more Black kids in academic trouble than any other group. Would anyone else notice that maybe the Black kids need some help? I tried to wait for someone else to bring it up but by the end of the meetings when nobody did, I just had to say something. I’m the only Black person in the room, if I don’t say it I know they won’t.”

Vivian goes on to say that she is always the one looking out for Black kids. She says, “I don’t know if they [colleagues] are afraid to say something [about Black kids], they have fooled themselves into being color blind, or they just don’t care.” Vivian feels that the task of redirecting the conversation to talk about supporting Black children always falls on her because she is Black. “ Everyone can contribute to ideas about supporting all students but when it comes to supporting students of color, white colleagues are silent and turn to the faculty [of color] to share ideas.”

Vivian’s comments return to the burden of representation. In addition to representing herself, she also has to represent students. This example highlights the additional labor that teachers of color do while their white colleagues shirk their responsibilities to all students.

When faculty of color spend time educating their white colleagues they are rarely acknowledged for doing so beyond a “thank you.” Some of the teachers interviewed also noted that their advice and professional judgement is sometimes requested but not valued. Rachel, a 29 year old Black woman who teaches physics, spoke candidly about her experience being the only teacher of color in her department.

“They ask me for permission every time they want to add something DEI related to their classes. They fight me every time I want to add something DEI related to my class. It’s like they want a Black pass but they don’t actually value the person who issues that pass”

Rachel felt disrespected by her colleagues and she felt like their commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion was inauthentic. Her colleagues seemed only willing to participate in DEI curricular work when it was convenient to them. She shared that her trust in them waned after every DEI conversation.

The time spent educating colleagues means that there is less time to be spent curriculum designing, working with students, and participating in professional development. Teachers of color are asked to spend time educating people they were not hired to educate and as a result, spend less time doing the job they were hired to do.

When teachers of color are responsible for educating their white colleagues, they do so at a personal cost. It requires emotional labor to teach anyone — especially a peer. Their peer tutoring is rarely counted in professional review processes. There are positive outcomes of peer education like higher trust, greater relevance, and the cultivation of teacher-leaders. However, when schools rely on or allow the expectation that teachers of color will be the primary educators for white teachers on matters of race and ethnicity, they set teachers of color up for resentment, exhaustion, and burnout. Failure to invest in an adequate number of paid professionals to coach white teachers is also failure to invest in the retention of teachers of color.

When faculty of color spend time educating their white colleagues, they are also taking time away from their personal time to do so. Moments before and after school or during lunch are valuable downtime for teachers to rejuvenate and participate in self care. When a white colleague chooses to bolster their learning in that downtime, they do so of their own volition. However, when white colleagues ask faculty of color to participate in their learning, they encroach on the personal time of faculty of color. The result ranges from resentment to burnout.

Lessen the Burden

Identity labor is performed by every teacher of color who works at a predominantly white school. As long as they are in the demographic minority, teachers of color will be navigating the ways they are called upon to show up in white spaces. Here are some concrete things schools can do to lessen the burden and reduce the labor for individuals.

1. Hire more teachers of color to reduce the impact of identity labor on individuals.
2. Include identity labor as part of the professional review process.
3. Compensate teachers for their identity labor.

The demographics of school aged children are changing much more rapidly than the demographics of school teachers. All students deserve teachers that reflect the rich diversity of backgrounds, experiences, and perspectives in the United States. Children of color deserve to see themselves represented in their teachers and in the curriculum. and there is a critical need to hire and retain more teachers of color in schools at all levels. To meet this need, schools must carefully consider why teachers of color choose to stay at their schools and change the things that make school environments inhospitable for teachers of color. Recognizing the tremendous impact of identity labor of teachers of color is an important step to investing in the success of these teachers.

There are many sound educational, pedagogical, and moral reasons that schools should provide their students a diverse group of teachers. A diverse teaching community will support teachers of color by spreading out the weight of identity labor. The more teachers of color — specifically, the more teachers of color who reflect the student demographics of an institution — the more choices students of color have of adults who understand their cultural identities and experiences without questions or requiring explanation. When schools only have a small number of adults, it is easy for those adults to become quickly overburdened and overtaxed. “Hire more people. It’s that simple. If my school really wants to put its money where its mouth is, they have to hire more people of color.” Rachel goes on to say that she doesn’t feel as though she can take a break or step away to tend to her own family in times of crisis because her students need her to be there.

A clear and aggressive recruitment plan for teachers of color is necessary at independent schools. Schools need to work with hiring firms that specialize in recruiting teachers of color and hold all recruiting firms accountable for bringing a diverse candidate pool to the school’s attention.

Partnering with historically black colleges and universities, hispanic serving institutions, and asian serving schools is essential. Invite educators of color to campus for networking and professional development. Making sure that the diverse internal network of parents and alumnus know about all open job postings is an easy way to diversify applicant pools. Training hiring managers and hiring committees on practices that lead to diverse hiring pools and practices that demonstrate the school’s commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion is important. Listing a firm commitment to equity, inclusion, and anti-oppression in the job description will attract educators who share those commitments. Schools should also be prepared to reiterate, answer questions, and provide examples of this organizational commitment in interviews. Being willing to not only double down on the same decades old promises and practices to hire more people of color but also to put funding into initiatives like making new positions for people of color and/or reserving some positions only for people of color.

Investment in success is the conjoined twin of recruitment. Note: I use the term investment in success because it requires much more intentionality, effort, and commitment of resources than retention. While retention centers the institution and its needs, investment in success centers the colleague and their needs. When someone new arrives in an established community, how does the community adapt to welcome them? Embracing the ethos of cultural additions (instead of deficits) should happen throughout the school and not only reserved as a classroom practice. Make the effort to go beyond the gift basket and “need anything” text on day one. Start planning for your new colleague’s transition to your school long before they arrive for their first today. Asking your new colleague about their family needs, community needs, and interests demonstrates care for ensuring that they have what they need to feel comfortable. Preparing the community to greet a new colleague with a transition team helps ease the adjustment to a new school.

Professional review

Any one who has ever been in a supervisory or leadership role knows that this work takes a considerable amount of time and patience. In a new colleague’s onboarding process, there are often extra 1:1 meetings, explanatory sidebars, and generally looking out to make sure that the new person is feeling comfortable at their job. As school’s pursue their DEI goals, there are suddenly dozens of “new” colleagues being onboarded to the job of promoting racial equity and their default mentors to this new job are people of color. Each mistake, stumble, or misunderstanding must be carefully deconstructed and corrected so that the colleague stays in a learning mindset. This work should be included in professional reviews.

“I’m tired of always being asked to look at a diversity statement or lend a second pair of eyes to something. I was hired to be a French teacher but I spend a lot of my time doing other things.” — Winston

“I’ve become an informal mentor to the younger colleagues of color. I guess I am glad I’m there to let them know that they aren’t crazy.”- Sakura

Both Winston and Sakura have sought leadership roles at their schools and both teachers reported that their DEI work was not included in either the application or conversation about their candidacy. Winston’s department chair advised him to remove his work on the diversity statement from his application to be a dean so that his application would show “a clear focus on the students.”

In the summer of 2020, schools started to be more proactive in reaching out to communities of color to share their antiracist goals. Like a lot of for profit companies, some of the early messages were clumsy and missed the mark. To avoid these mistakes and the wave of backlash they created, school leadership turned to people of color within the organization to help them craft subsequent messages. These math teachers, biology teachers, and French teachers were asked to become communications experts and consult their schools on how to communicate care to a large and diverse audience. Presumably, they would also be the recipients of the care. The absurdity of writing a heartfelt message to oneself on behalf of the school should not be overlooked as a salient example of “can effectively respond to unique challenges” when considering promotions and wage increase.

Compensation

People performing identity labor at schools are also doing a task that only they can uniquely do. The efforts of managing the emotions of colleagues, while educating them, and emotionally showing up for students is not work that could be passed along to anyone, but work that must be uniquely performed by people of color and other folks with marginalized identities in culturally dominant spaces. Schools should pay their employees for this work.

I once worked at a school where a history teacher named Fred was often called to help with emergency situations. He was large in stature, was a trained EMT, and had a calm demeanor that could make anyone feel instantly secure knowing that he was in the room. After a particularly frightening situation that involved a disgruntled student with a history of violent statements and access to an arsenal of guns, Fred helped the whole community implement a crisis management plan. We saw his great work, recognized that he was fulfilling a role that no one in the community could fill other than him, and made him the inaugural director of safety and security. Fred was already doing much of this needed work as a history teacher, but the school recognized his unique talent in managing crises and so they paid him to do that work.

There are only two levers for compensation at most schools. Time and money. Compensating teachers of color for their identity labor may mean that a teacher of color teachers fewer classes in recognition that her full workload is completed through identity labor. It could also mean that she is released from serving on committees or coaching a sport in recognition that identity labor is her extra curricular activity. For schools with a small staffulty who need all adults in the community contributing to the function of the school, monetary compensation should be given to teachers performing identity labor. This may come in the form of additional paid vacation days, professional development funding, investment holdings in the endowment, a stipend for advising identity-based student or adult affinity spaces, and/or regular one time a year bonuses. In addition to the formal ways that a school might compensate its teachers of color, public acknowledgements, thank you notes, and gift cards to local restaurants are lovely gestures of recognizing the hard work of identity labor.

Teachers of color should have their identity labor included in their professional review and it should be included in considerations for promotions. Identity labor is leadership, conflict management, and experience working with diverse populations. It requires utilizing these leadership skills daily. In 2016, Brown did a study of the pathways to head of school roles of educators of color in independent school. Brown found that a significantly larger number of heads of school of color had previously held senior leadership positions compared to their rwhite peers (Brown 2016). Because identity labor requires a person to constantly manage up, down, and horizontally, a person of color at a predominately white institution is likely to be a well-practiced manager after only a few weeks on campus.

Performing identity labor is a critical function of people of color in independent schools. Naming it as such is an opportunity for schools to acknowledge the assets that educators of color bring to an institution simply by being present. Students deserve seeing teachers who look like them and learning from teachers with diverse backgrounds and experiences. White colleagues learn from teachers of color as well. They learn new ideas for bringing a diversity of voices into the curriculum, they have thought partners with real lived experience for how students of color might experience their classroom, and they become more skilled teachers because they are prompted to consider their craft through an identity-focused lens. Students and families are demanding both racial equity and accountability. Independent schools need teachers of color and they need to recognize and compensate for the identity labor of those teachers.

*all of the names used in this paper are pseudonyms and any identifying information has been omitted or altered

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