Where Do We Go from Here?

I’m definitely not qualified to be the next Minister of Education. However, having spent most of my life in full-time education (seventeen years, to be exact), believe it or not, my experiences have taught me, and the others in this book, a few things about our educational system: some negative and positive, but crucially, all very different, stemming from the ways in which we have experienced and tackled institutional racism within various higher education institutions.

Universities are currently run like businesses, with marketisation increasing the role of the student as a consumer: you pay a certain amount, and you expect to leave with a solid grade and a job six months post-graduation. From league table positioning to student satisfaction surveys, it’s easy to see this part of marketisation as a form of educational expansion, and potentially a means of reducing inequality by providing more opportunities for people from disadvantaged backgrounds. But the fallout of this is huge.

At present, there is a wide disparity between how much we talk about diversity and how much actual change is happening. Universities have become sophisticated in non-performative ‘institutional speech acts’ which make commitments to diversity and ‘equality’. Your institution may claim to be driving racial equality – while your everyday interactions are telling you something very different. Ultimately, the question remains as to whether we can really label an institution as more ‘diverse’ if its commitment to racial equality is based on the meeting of racial equality targets, rather than listening to the lived experiences of its black students.

So, what can we do?

I think people who aren’t part of these [racial] groups should be equally concerned and giving a helping hand. – Eireann

The proactiveness of black students on the ground has meant more BME-specific targeting when it comes to matters regarding access before and within university. Bristol Student Union BME network, for example, has created its own influential platform through leading its own discussions and campaigns on topics such as intersectionality, religion and mental health. Without the persistent and collective drive of student labour and voices, I am sure little would be done to change the current status quo of ensuring black students feel integrated before and within the university environment.

Oxford and Cambridge have also both partnered with Target Oxbridge, a free programme which takes on 160 black African and Caribbean students in Year 12 who want help with their applications to the two universities, and provides more opportunities for prospective black students to speak to and ask questions of black students who are already at Oxbridge.²⁹ The first event I ever went to in Cambridge was hosted by the founder of Target Oxbridge, Naomi Kellman. Target Oxbridge’s partnership with both universities has proved to be invaluable in demystifying Oxbridge life.

However, it’s clear that methods of tackling inequality and racial disparity within education are still mostly outsourced. Universities are more likely to work with organisations such as Target Oxbridge, Sponsors for Educational Opportunity, IntoUniversity or Future Leaders as a way of fulfilling their diversity pledges. They offload their responsibilities to tackle systemic inequalities within their institutions to privately-run, non-governmental organisations as a tokenistic means of making ‘progress’, without properly addressing the root causes of these inequalities within their walls.

To some, outsourcing may seem to be a step in the right direction, showing through financial investment and a reliance on experienced organisations a real and specific commitment to rectifying inequalities. Providing a platform for these organisations is also a way of allowing professionals who understand and are black themselves to address specific black issues. But I question the authenticity of many of these diversity schemes.

It’s easier to adopt the argument that black students are making conscious choices when navigating the higher education landscape than to ask: why? Why are black students ‘self-segregating’? Why do we feel a sense of Imposter syndrome before we’ve even started our university applications? Why do we cry in the car on our way home from open days? Why do we still feel the need to drop out of universities because we don’t feel welcome? These questions require practical answers – answers that don’t start or end with black students, but with the institutions in which they are struggling.

It would be misleading to claim that I have all the answers. I am no expert. I have just about scratched the surface of why so many black girls fail to apply to university, and what awaits them if they do. Most importantly, I can only hope my experiences, and those of others in this book, can colour the conversation on access into – and whilst at – university. If nothing else, foregrounding the lived experiences of black university students paints a more complex picture. It also highlights the fact that there is not one single factor producing the profound gendered and racialised inequalities within our higher education system, but many.

Cambridge may have won on my open day. But I didn’t stop playing. By October of that year, I was driving back up to the city again, but this time with all my stuff, ready to move in to my college. Cambridge would score a few more goals over the next year, but it was one of the best decisions I would ever make.