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Journal of Diversity in Higher Education 2016, Vol. 9, No. 3, 290 –306

© 2016 National Association of Diversity Officers in Higher Education 1938-8926/16/$12.00 http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/dhe0000033

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Grad Students Talk: Development and Process of a Student-Led Social Justice Initiative Melanie M. Lantz

Rebecca L. Fix

Louisiana Tech University

Auburn University

Brittan L. Davis

Leighna N. Harrison

Cleveland State University

Palo Alto University

Ashley Oliver

Candice Crowell

Cleveland State University

University of Kentucky

Amanda M. Mitchell

James J. García

University of Louisville

University of North Texas

College student activism has long been a staple of campus life, often driven by the sociopolitical issues of the time. In response to recent and continuous violent deaths of members of the Black community, rising instances of overt racism, and perceived silence among our institutes and professional groups, a multiinstitutional and diverse collective of psychology graduate student leaders, Grad Students Talk (GST) came together to engage psychology graduate students nationally in discussions related to these events. GST facilitated a series of teleconference calls, and one large in-person conference discussion, for psychology graduate students to discuss and process their reactions to acts of racial injustice. Additionally, GST headed “First, Do No Harm,” an advocacy campaign against psychologists’ involvement in torture, which received mention in national media. The purpose of the current paper is to describe the successes of our student collective, to understand the challenges GST faced in the context of activism within higher education, and to provide recommendations to professionals in higher education to support student activism initiatives. Data from a collaborative autoethnographic qualitative approach highlighted a number of important themes that emerged for researcher-participants, including lack of perceived safety, observed silence from institutions and professional groups, and the important roles of universality and instillation of hope. We conclude the present discourse with a synthesis of the systemic challenges student activists face, and recommendations for change. Keywords: activism, advocacy, group process, racism, student

Melanie M. Lantz, Department of Psychology and Behavioral Sciences, Louisiana Tech University; Rebecca L. Fix, Department of Psychology, Auburn University; Brittan L. Davis, College of Education and Human Services, Cleveland State University; Leighna N. Harrison, Clinical Psychology Program, Pacific Graduate School of Psychology, Palo Alto University; Ashley Oliver, College of Education and Human Services, Cleveland State University; Candice Crowell, Department of School, Educational, and Counseling Psy-

chology, University of Kentucky; Amanda M. Mitchell, Department of Educational and Counseling Psychology, University of Louisville; James J. García, Department of Psychology, University of North Texas. Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Rebecca L. Fix, Department of Psychology, 101 Cary Hall, Auburn University, Auburn, AL 36849. E-mail: [email protected] 290


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There has been an epidemic of Black individuals, especially youth, being killed by police officers in the United States. Increasing recognition of police brutality against Black individuals and communities culminated in national media coverage and outrage in Fall of 2014; at that time, Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, Eric Garner in Staten Island, New York, and 12-year-old Tamir Rice in Cleveland, Ohio were just a few of the unarmed Black lives taken by police that received national media attention. Moreover, the exonerations of some of the law enforcement officers charged with the deaths of Black Americans were highly publicized. Following these events, psychology graduate students from several organizations came together as they struggled to process these events personally and professionally, and realized that other psychology students were likely struggling as well. Student leaders from multiple psychology graduate student organizations collaboratively developed Grad Students Talk: Psychology Graduate Students Invested in Social Justice (GST). Students within GST sought to support one another as they processed each of these tragedies, and to create similar process spaces for other students. Since its inception, GST has facilitated several teleconference calls for graduate students in psychology, hosted an in-person group discussion at a national conference, and spearheaded a grassroots advocacy campaign in response to psychologists’ involvement in torture: “First, Do No Harm.” The purpose of the present discourse is to highlight challenges of activism in higher education, and to share the perceived successes, challenges faced, and the unmet needs of students, as observed by our student collective through the lens of an autoethnographic study. By examining the process of our student collective, we provide recommendations based on these accomplishments and barriers. First, we briefly discuss the evolution of college student activism since the 1960s. Next, we will highlight the challenges of activism and social justice advocacy in the current prevailing model of higher education in the U.S., as well as professional psychology. As activism is often driven by the sociopolitical climate of the time, we will also address the climate of increasing racial injustice in the United States and the events leading to the development of our collective. Finally, we will discuss the development of our

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graduate student collective, whose emergence is intertwined with some of the challenges of activism in modern U.S. higher education, as well as professional psychology. The present discourse will conclude with an autoethnographic exploration of some of the GST studentparticipant s’ experiences, including perceived successes and limitations. Recommendations for supporting activism in higher education will be discussed. Evolution of Activism in Higher Education In a time of supposed prosperity, moral complacency, and political manipulation, a new left cannot rely on only aching stomachs to be the engine force of social reform. The case for change, for alternatives that will involve uncomfortable personal efforts, must be argued as never before. The university is a relevant place for all of these activities (Students for a Democratic Society, 1962).

Activism has a long and storied place in higher education. During the 1960s, the intersection of international humanitarian issues and an idealistic generation of American youth led to a new wave of intense, sometimes violent, college student activism (Barnhardt, 2014; Connery, 2011; Hundscheid, 2010). So large was the activist movement that in 1970, President Nixon established a Commission on Campus Unrest (“Scranton Commission”) in response to the killings of student protesters by local police and National Guardsmen (Connery, 2011; Scranton et al., 1970). Since then, each cohort has seen changes in the extent of student activism. No wave of student activism to date appears to have been as widespread or tumultuous as that of the 1960s, involving hundreds of campuses and thousands of arrests (Barnhardt, 2014), and the type of issues addressed and the strategies employed also evolved. Undoubtedly, these changes share a reciprocal relationship with the changes to higher education, which will be discussed. Whereas student activism in the 1960s was largely driven by societal-level humanitarian concerns (e.g., the African American civil rights movement, antiwar movements), student activists in later decades appeared to be motivated increasingly by campus-level issues (Hundscheid, 2010). Though some college students of the 1980s and 1990s addressed issues reminiscent of 1960s activism (e.g., apartheid, the Persian Gulf war, sweatshop conditions), the foci


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of student activism trended toward the plight of the students themselves (Hundscheid, 2010). For example, New York University students protested for University-level concerns (e.g., collective bargaining of student workers), and Hundscheid (2010) noted that student activists saw themselves as “the primary victims of Global Capitalism” (p. 230), rather than fighting causes on behalf of the most disenfranchised groups in society. Recent events suggest the tide of social justice foci may again be turning. Community and on-campus activism appears to be on the rise since the 2012 killing of Trayvon Martin, the 17-year old Black male fatally shot while walking home, and the subsequent acquittal of his killer. An example of contemporary student activism is the November 2015 hunger strike of graduate student Jonathan Butler at the University of Missouri in response to campus concerns and perceived administrative inaction related not only to racism, but also sexism, heterosexism, and xenophobia (Lowery, 2015). Missouri’s football players joined the strike by threatening to neither practice nor play football until Mr. Butler’s demands were met, culminating in then-President Wolfe’s resignation (Lowery, 2015). Even before Jonathan Butler and the football players at Missouri, groups such as the UCLA Black Bruins and students at the University of Michigan and Harvard used social media to decry continued individual and systemic racism on college campuses and nationally (Leonard, 2014). Harvard students’ “I, Too, Am Harvard” social media campaign (Tumblr) led to similar campaigns at more than 30 universities in the U.S. and abroad (Leonard, 2014). Though not specific to college campuses, one of the most well known current racial justice activism movements, BlackLivesMatter (BLM), owes its visibility to social media. BLM, student activist campaigns such as #BBUM (Being Black at the University of Michigan), and Harvard students’ Tumblr campaign serve as examples of the changing face of activism in the age of social media. Generally, activist strategies fall on a continuum of intensity and are categorized as conventional (building on existing resources, e.g., sporting t-shirts or signs), disruptive (interfering with routines and startling those on campus; e.g., sit-ins, rallies), or violent (e.g., hostage-

taking, arson), although even conventional tactics may range from contained to disorderly (Barnhardt, 2014). Barnhardt (2014) noted the importance of activist groups using conventional tactics to their maximum benefit, and emphasized the need for activists to match their tactics to both the issue and the audience to be successful. Perhaps, then, the intersection of social media and more traditional tactics is a recipe for modern success: social media, particularly Facebook and Twitter, are cost-effective platforms that quickly reach a well-matched millennial audience (Obar, Zube, & Lampe, 2012). Some have expressed concern over the potential idleness of this new activism (“slacktivism;” Lim, 2013), whereas others have noted that, when used effectively, social media can uniquely mobilize activists. For example, the Occupy movement (e.g., Occupy Wall Street) was born of social media but moved to the streets of New York, Boston, and other cities worldwide (Juris, 2012). For Occupy, BLM, Jonathan Butler, and others, social media served as a springboard for more traditional tactics, including protests, rallies, die-ins, and hunger strikes (Dickey, 2015; Juris, 2012; Mangan, 2014). Others, such as #BBUM and “I, Too, Am Harvard,” were situated primarily on social media; the current model of higher education may, in part, inform the relatively infrequent use of traditional tactics today. Challenges to Activism in the 21st-Century U.S. Academy Activism within higher education has dramatically shifted since the 1960s. In decades prior, higher education was seen as deeply involved in working toward the greater good in society (Connery, 2011), which made college campuses a natural stage for students to protest humanitarian concerns. In contrast, higher education’s focus has slowly shifted to a capitalistic, consumer model, which has direct implications for student activism (Connery, 2011). Over the past few decades, college education has become (a) treated as a product and (b) considered necessary to earn a livable wage, which has resulted in an ever increasing number of students who must indebt themselves and/or focus on earning money to pay for their education (Connery, 2011). Such a system places students at the mercy of their institutions, as


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students may perceive receipt of a college degree as necessary for their economic survival. Put simply, students may not have the luxury of time or resources needed for activism, and higher education as a whole may be too focused on economic security to provide their students with skills and resources for activism (Marullo & Edwards, 2000). Despite constraints, many students and faculty seek to create social change. Given the challenges of the modern academy, grassroots tactics that seek to create bottom-up change may play a key role in activism within higher education (Kezar, Bertram Gallant, & Lester, 2011). Kezar and colleagues (2011) examined faculty and staff change efforts through the lens of grassroots leadership theory and tempered radical theory. They describe grassroots leadership as nonhierarchical, bottom-up, intentional efforts to effect change while operating within institutional power structures, often ‘flying under the radar.’ Separately, they describe tempered radicals as individuals who are committed both to a cause, and to an organization incompatible with that cause, and who believe they can be most effective change agents by remaining with the organization and using tempered strategies to change it from within (Kezar et al., 2011). Their study highlighted the importance of both frameworks in understanding change efforts among those not in authority positions within higher education. Faculty and staff sought to raise consciousness of their causes, create vision, empower others, and establish networks, using existing higher education strategies to do so (e.g., curricula, hiring committees; Kezar et al., 2011). Though Kezar and colleagues (2011) focused on faculty and staff, grassroots and tempered radical frameworks can apply to student activism, including the efforts and struggles of the student collective described herein. Notably, however, GST was not situated only within higher education, but also within professional psychology.

1998; Venner & Verney, 2015; Vera & Speight, 2003), and psychology has increasingly emphasized the importance of social justice advocacy (i.e., activism; Baluch, Pieterse, & Bolden, 2004; Koch & Juntunen, 2014; Vera & Speight, 2003). In fact, advocacy is now considered a functional competency domain for psychologists, and some counseling psychology training programs have even developed and implemented a scientist-practitioner-advocate training model (e.g., Mallinckrodt, Miles, & Levy, 2014). Yet, following the string of highly publicized murders of Black individuals, the founding members of GST were overwhelmingly driven to form the collective as a result of the silence they experienced at their respective institutions, graduate programs, and/or professional organizations (e.g., APA). Despite emphasizing social justice, few psychology programs incorporate social justice into their curriculum, leaving students without a meaningful opportunity to explore the role of advocacy in professional psychology (Ottenritter, 2004; Venner & Verney, 2015). This training oversight may reduce the future involvement of psychologists-in-training in social justice movements (Ottenritter, 2004; Venner & Verney, 2015). Thus, professional psychology values and deems advocacy as central to our roles, yet little is said on how to be social justice change agents in practice and research (Vera & Speight, 2003). As a result, there may be trepidation regarding activism, which is understandable given that when psychologists (and particularly graduate students) take a stand, they may be doing so in opposition to at least two institutions or cultures. Given the limited power that students have relative to faculty, their institutions, and their professional fields, the uncertainty and fear is likely amplified for students. It is within this professional intersection and ambiguity that GST emerged in December of 2014.

Intersection of U.S. Higher Education and Professional Psychology

The GST collective came together to try to understand and navigate the dilemmas of how to engage in activism within higher education and professional psychology, and sought to create similar spaces for graduate students in psychology nationally, where students could share ideas with one another about what has or has not worked at their own institutions—much like

Evidence suggests that psychologists can influence social policies and improve understanding of multicultural concepts by increasing their commitment to systemic engagement in social justice work (Ivey & Collins, 2003; McWhirter,

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grassroots and tempered radical efforts of Kezar and colleagues’ (2011) participants. All of the student leaders of GST worked collaboratively, such that there was no hierarchical leadership structure, to generate ideas, determine what tasks needed to be done to accomplish the group’s goals, and mutually agree on divisions of tasks. The predominant outcomes of the GST collaboration were the facilitation of several teleconference calls, as well as an in-person discussion at a national conference, which provided graduate students in psychology with a safe space to process their feelings and concerns pertaining to incidents of racial injustice and violence. Participants discussed how to effectively communicate ideas generated during the calls to their own programs and campuses. GST employed additional activism strategies around a controversy in the field of psychology, regarding psychologists’ participation in torture of terrorism suspects. GST took this initiative at the 2015 APA Convention in response to the results of the Report of the Independent Review into psychologists’ participation in torture, also known as the Hoffman Report. (An in-depth exploration of this issue is beyond the scope of the current study; for readers interested, please see APA, n.d.). Following the release of the Hoffman Report, GST initiated a national campaign called “First, Do No Harm,” in addition to hosting a conference call for students to discuss their concerns regarding the report. GST developed a logo for use on social media, and designed t-shirts, buttons, and stickers to distribute at Convention. Moreover, GST donated $1.00 from each t-shirt purchase to the Center for Victims of Torture. The First, Do No Harm campaign was mentioned in the New York Times (Risen, 2015) and the Chronicle of Higher Education (Wilhelm, 2015). We will briefly discuss how GST engaged in outreach, and then discuss the results of an autoethnographic examination of several founders of the GST collective.

Before each call, participants received an e-mail with difficult dialogue guidelines which encouraged participants to be patient, respect others’ opinions, and be aware of one’s own privilege, including its influence on the discussion and other participants. Each call was cofacilitated by two GST members who sought to create a safe, meaningful space. Call One, held in December of 2014, totaled approximately 20 participants while Call Two, in April of 2015, totaled approximately 17 participants. Between Calls One and Two, an inperson discussion group was facilitated at the National Multicultural Conference and Summit in January 2015, which at least 25 people attended. Call Three was held in July of 2015 with a total of eight participants. Each call lasted 90 min and provided participants with the opportunity to share their thoughts, feelings, and reactions to specified events. After the completion of each call, participants received a voluntary and anonymous feedback survey. Feedback was taken into consideration for the facilitation of each subsequent call. In addition to the open-participation teleconference calls, members of GST provided ongoing intragroup support in relation to high-profile racial injustices that continued to occur. Call Three was specific to the Hoffman Report, which was a departure from the previous focus explicitly on racial injustice; this, as well as the possibility that graduate students were less engaged in professional activities during the summer, may account for the decrease in participant numbers. It is notable, however, that there appeared to be much engagement with GST’s overall efforts related to the “First, Do No Harm” campaign. In addition to the conference call, GST created a Facebook page, a social media logo for others to adopt, a t-shirt fundraising campaign, and actively shared information via professional listservs and the GST website.

Student Outreach

The members of the GST collective sought to understand our group members’ motivation to serve as leaders in this initiative, what they believed were the successes and limitations of GST, and their vision for the future work of GST. A collaborative autoethnographic approach was used with the eight coauthors, who

Calls for participation in the teleconferences were sent out via multiple graduate student listservs that included a participation registration link. Involvement was limited to the first 20 individuals to register for the teleconference.

Examining the Process of GST


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were also GST collective members. Using this approach seemed particularly relevant, as each coauthor participated in some aspect of the teleconference calls, with some having served as both participant and cofacilitator. It is important to note that there are two different groups of students associated with GST: (a) the group of student leaders who organized GST, and (b) a transient group of students who participated in the teleconference calls and in-person discussion. Information was not collected on this latter group of students. The eight researcherparticipants in the present study were members of the GST collective itself, or the first group. The intersection of researcher-participant s’ roles, participation, and personal background provided a unique viewpoint to the GST process. Method Paradigm A critical-ideological paradigm was the foundation of the present study. In a criticalideological paradigm, the multiple realities of the participants are recognized, as well as the reality that oppression and power exist within the multiple realities of individuals (Morrow, 2007). Emancipation, in which the researcher’s proactive approach to challenging the status quo is grounded in the recognition that oppression and privilege have an impact on the realities of the lived world, is a main purpose of criticalideological worldviews (Ponterotto, 2005). The ontological assumption of the critical-ideological paradigm is that there are many meanings, several ways of interpreting, and no emphasis placed on discovering the one “truth” to the phenomenon under study (Ponterotto, 2005). The epistemological underpinning of the critical-ideological paradigm focuses on stimulating transformation within participants, encouraging them to formulate a group movement toward liberation and empowerment (Ponterotto, 2005). Regarding axiology, the critical-ideological paradigm recognizes that a researcher cannot completely dissociate from their value biases in an attempt to remain “completely” objective, and encourages the researchers to not only recognize their own values and biases, but also to allow their biases to influence the re-

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search procedure and the product (Ponterotto, 2005). Autoethnography As a qualitative inquiry, the present study sought to describe the lived experiences of participants through use of a collaborative autoethnographic methodological approach (Moore, Scarduzio, Plump, & Geist-Martin, 2013; Polkinghorne, 2005), in which the researchers serve as the subjects of inquiry. As such, the researchers position themselves as coconstructors of meaning, both as research participants and as analysts of the data, to remain unapologetically political (Fine, 1992). This positioning not only adds to the trustworthiness of the investigation, it also challenges the hegemonic pressures of scholarship that often treat data as if it were unaffected by interpretation (Fine, 1992). Given the dual roles inherent in autoethnographic research, as cocreators of data, the researchers engaged in various trustworthiness measures to uphold the rigor of the findings. The coauthors, who were also GST collective members, each reflected on and shared their own experiences of GST through their responses. Trustworthiness Trustworthiness in qualitative research is related to the extent to which the methods and results of the study can be trusted (Hill, Thompson, & Williams, 1997). The researchers engaged in professional reflexivity to understand how their own experiences and biases influenced the process of the research (Morrow, 2005). Additionally, credibility (Morrow, 2007) was achieved through prolonged engagement with the participants, participant checks, and thick descriptions of the multiple layers of sociocultural factors in the data analysis. Further, the dependability of findings was maintained through an audit trail (i.e., detailed record of research activities, influences, and emerging themes) and confirmability was reached through reporting of the data as directly as possible. Trustworthiness was also achieved through triangulation of data sources, such as the inclusion of several participants who have similar perspectives, but have various roles and locations within the institution of academia. Finally, and most importantly, consequential validity was achieved through an increased conscious-

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ness surrounding issues of power and oppression, and the potential of the members, the group-as-a-whole, and the research findings to create social change (Guba & Lincoln, 1994). Subjectivities Statement and Participant Information

investigation, as did an awareness of recent institutional and systemic oppression. As such, the homogeneity of ideology of participants likely contributed to a more liberal analysis of findings and a lower threshold for saturation to be achieved.


Data Collection and Analysis Qualitative inquiry requires the researchers to acknowledge their subjectivities; this is especially true in collaborative autoethnography, as the researchers also serve as participants. Therefore, the identities, educational backgrounds, and biases of the researchers are specified, and a statement is made as to how such identities, experiences, and biases may impact the conclusion. For the protection of the researcher-participant s, identification numbers have been provided in the place of names. During the inception of the current study, all eight participants were doctoral students in either counseling (n ⫽ 5), clinical (n ⫽ 2), or clinical health (n ⫽ 1) psychology at various universities across the nation. At submission, four remained doctoral students, and four completed their doctoral degrees—two of whom are now assistant professors, and two of whom are postdoctoral fellows. All participants were U.S.born, in their late twenties to early thirties, and held leadership positions within the American Psychological Association and its various divisions and committees. Participants were primarily White (n ⫽ 5) cisgender women (n ⫽ 7), who identified as heterosexual (n ⫽ 5), and agnostic (n ⫽ 5). Participants were of working class (n ⫽ 3), low socioeconomic status (n ⫽ 1), middle class (n ⫽ 3), and middle upper class (n ⫽ 1). Three identified as people of color (Latino, n ⫽ 1; Black, n ⫽ 1; and Biracial, n ⫽ 1), three identified as sexual minorities (gay, n ⫽ 1; queer lesbian, n ⫽ 1; and bisexual, n ⫽ 1), and three identified as religiously or spiritually different than agnostic (atheist, n ⫽ 1; spiritual, n ⫽ 1; and Catholic, n ⫽ 1). The participants were all committed to social justice, politically and ideologically liberal, and emotionally charged because of the systemic oppression of and violence toward individuals with marginalized identities—particularly, racial minorities. The marginalized identities of some participants, ally identities in other participants, and social justice orientation in all participants facilitated an interest in the topic under

The data collection and analysis process was recursive to increase authentication and transferability of procedures of the study. First, the second author developed a questionnaire consisting of five open-ended questions about the successes, difficulties, and future directions for GST. The questions included (a) What led to your participation in Grad Students Talk?, (b) What benefits or successes have you witnessed/ experienced as a leader and participant in Grad Students Talk?, (c) What were the difficulties (e.g., emotionally, logistically) that you encountered during your Grad Students Talk experience?, (d) In what aspects of the Grad Students Talk experience did you participate, and how do you hope to continue to stay involved in Grad Students Talk in the near future?, and (e) How do you envision Grad Students Talk growing or expanding its reach? Second, all eight coauthors shared their experiences by responding to these five questions in written format and submitting them to the first and second authors. Once all responses were received, the first author coded and analyzed the data using thematic analysis, a general qualitative method in which researchers organize and interpret patterns observed in the data (Braun & Clarke, 2006). The sixth author served as a peer auditor to ensure more accurate coding and to minimize bias by providing an additional perspective on latent content. Third, the analysis was guided by Braun and Clarke’s (2006) recommendations and six-step guide, in which all of the data were analyzed with the exception of Question Four, which is discussed briefly below. In the first step of thematic analysis (Braun & Clarke, 2006), familiarizing oneself with the data, the analyzing researcher read through each participant’s responses several times, taking notes each time after the first reading. The second phase includes the generation of initial codes, at which point data were transferred to individual note cards and


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organized by prompt in the form of participant statements. In the third phase, the analyst searched for themes among participants’ individual statements. Accordingly, participant responses were reorganized into observed themes within each prompt, and reorganized a second time following a comprehensive review of the resulting themes (i.e., phase four, which entails reviewing the themes). During phase five (defining and naming identified themes) the analyst transferred the identified themes back into an electronic document, and responses were labeled and defined using developed notes and examples of each observed theme. How often each theme was endorsed was noted. At this point, the sixth author served as an auditor, and the themes were agreed upon. The sixth phase of thematic analysis was then employed, which entails the production of the final report. The analyst revisited the data through writing, and revisited the original participant responses to extract examples of the observed themes. After the completion of the sixth step, the sixth author reengaged in the process to give brief consideration to latent themes. In addition to the six-step guide (Braun & Clarke), participant checks were employed to ensure accurate representation of data. An inductive analytic approach was used, which allowed the themes to be data-driven rather than guided by preconceived notions; however, it is important to acknowledge that qualitative analysis cannot be completely free of bias. Given the ideological framework of the present investigation, researchers engaged in researcher reflexivity to challenge power, privilege, and multiple hierarchies that emerge in the analysis of qualitative data. Finally, semantic themes, rather than latent themes, were sought to identify themes based on participants’ explicit responses; however, latent content will be briefly discussed. Results Results presented are for questions One, Two, Three, and Five. Given that Question Four was not a reflective question, leading to short responses, it was not analyzed. We will instead discuss Question Four here briefly. All eight coauthors participated in GST calls as both a GST representative and call participant, and six

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of the participants have served as cofacilitators. Four participants who are still doctoral students at this time expressed intention to continue with GST, and four graduated participants have rotated out of the group, which they anticipated. Across the remaining prompts, four themes emerged consistently: (a) researcher-participants wanted, and felt they provided, a safe space for themselves and others to process their reactions to violence against Black individuals and communities; (b) the principle of universality (Yalom, 2005) was salient in participant responses; (c) personal discomfort during difficult dialogue was a common barrier experienced; and (d) every participant wanted to see the continuation and expansion of GST. Multiple themes emerged within each of the four prompts. What Led Participants to Become GST Leaders? Identity. Overwhelmingly, participants noted the role of their personal and professional identities in their decision to join the GST collective. For example, P8 shared the importance of having a space to integrate his professional and personal identities “as a person of color navigating the responsibilities of a soon-to-be doctor.” Similarly, P1 acknowledged her White privilege, and shared her desire to better understand the experience of persons of color. Several participants identified a connection between their existing professional work and GST, including research, clinical, and leadership roles. P6 shared, “I saw this as a natural extension of [my] work,” adding that she “was glad to know other psychologists-in-training [were] interested and engaged.” P4 explained, “I am very invested in assisting the BLM movement, as I currently am involved in research and clinical work that have to do with discrimination against Black males in the juvenile justice system.” Additionally, many participants identified a commitment to social justice. For example, P8 wrote, “I have a drive for social justice, given my experiences as a person of color. I became socially and politically aware of issues at a young age growing up in the barrio (ethnic enclave) and these experiences fuel my passion for the values represented in GST.” Personal need for process. Some researcher-participants acknowledged they strug-


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gled with the recent high-profile incidents of violence against Black men and women, and needed a space to work through their reactions. Participants also identified difficult emotions and a desire to understand what they could do to affect change. For example, P2 shared, “With recent events in the news and in our hometowns, I have been struggling to make sense of the feelings of anger, sadness, disappointment, and hopelessness.” Similarly, P5 wrote, “I had been feeling discouraged, disheartened, and helpless in the face of racially motivated violence by law enforcement toward individuals and communities of color.” Some participants appeared to be drawn to the GST collective to work alongside other individuals likely to create a safe space to process, as well as to cope through taking action, as described by P5 as she wrote, “Participation in Grad Students Talk presented me with the opportunity to gain back some agency and start advocating on behalf of these issues.” Silence. Several participants noted that their own professional environments did not acknowledge the sociopolitical climate and contributing events. From above, P2 continued, “And such feelings have been exacerbated by the subsequent silence within [my] professional environments.” P8 echoed this, noting, “I have yet to see my program . . . respond or make a comment on police brutality against communities of color.” P3 and P4 observed that students may not have opportunities in personal or professional contexts to have these discussions. Provide a space for others. In response to participants observing a widespread culture of silence, several participants expressed a desire to provide a space for students outside of the GST collective to process their own reactions. As P4 stated, “I wanted to be a part of an effort that offers a safe space to many who are affected by recent acts of violence by governmental employees with power toward people of color related to the BLM movement.” Likewise, P3 wrote, “I also think that providing spaces for students to participate in processing current events, oppression, systemic discrimination, privilege, and one’s own identity is critical, as it may not exist in their personal or professional environments.” The latent content in these answers asked another question: Is there a space for me, in psychology or higher education, to share my

values and process my pain? In the field of psychology, the professional values propose to support social justice action, but GST participants felt there were training gaps they needed to fill in the creation of this group. Additionally, although many of our institutions espouse goals of social responsibility, the silence seemed to feel palpable. As an expression of salient aspects of their identities, such as person of color, ally for racial equity and justice, and social justice activist, GST leaders sought to integrate personal and professional identities in order to process the myriad emotions experienced with continued incidents of police brutality and injustice. Furthermore, this process was fueled by disappointment in the discrepancy between word and deed among seasoned psychologists and educators. In witnessing silence, GST members decided to respond with creation of telespace for student voices, who at the time seemed to be more interested in these discussions than most mid and late career psychologists, educators, and administrators. Benefits of GST Events Universality. Yalom (2005) defines universality as an experience of validation within group process through connection with other group members who share concerns or feelings similar to their own, noting this validation can provide a “powerful source of relief” (p. 6). Although the discussions held through the GST initiative were not therapy, the experience of universality certainly extends beyond therapy. The power of this experience is highlighted within P8’s response, who wrote, “[Observing the parallels between the struggles faced by both the Latino and Black communities] validated my experience as a person of color and the things I am doing to help heal the wounds that we face as communities of color in the U.S.” In addition, P2’s narrative also exemplifies universality: “I have felt a stronger connection with the discipline of psychology . . . and I have had the opportunity to be challenged, challenge others, and to join peers in processing the rollercoaster of emotions surrounding recent events.” P4 and P7 shared the importance of being reminded that there are others who felt similarly to them. P3 also noted, “I believe [GST] has provided a space for students to


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connect and receive support through shared experiences of oppression and discrimination.” Instillation of hope. Instillation of hope is another important factor described as crucial to group process (Yalom, 2005). It offers a unique source of hope not found elsewhere, as groups likely comprise individuals who are at various stages of progress and thus, struggling individuals may be exposed to others who have developed adaptive ways of coping (Yalom, 2005). Some researcher-participants identified feelings of hopelessness as a reason for having joined GST. P2 noted, “I felt some of my hopelessness subside with the increased energy and advocacy efforts of so many students who are committed to social change.” P4 and P5 both described feeling inspired through their participation in GST calls. Inspiration of action. Perhaps stemming from instillation of hope, a number of researcher-participants described feeling not only inspired, but also motivated for further social justice advocacy. P4 shared, “[GST discussions] have motivated and inspired me to continue to pursue advocacy opportunities related to reducing systematic discrimination in the United States, especially discriminatory acts targeting African Americans.” P1 shared P4’s experience, noting, “[feeling disheartened about others’ experiences with discrimination about others’ experiences with discrimination] has pushed me to further my advocacy efforts and to learn more about oppression and discrimination throughout the country.” Additionally, P3 observed, “I have also heard students mention that it has provided them with information and guidance on how to facilitate discussions in their programs, clinical rotations, and/or personal and professional interactions about these important topics.” Safe space. Many of the researcherparticipants described a desire for a safe space to process these events as one reason for joining GST. The researcher-participants described feeling as though space was created wherein students and the researcher-participants could process their own reactions to incidents of violence against Black individuals. P6 explained, “Giving students the space to process, whether that includes simply listening or actively discussing their thoughts and emotions related to racism and police violence, has been a notable benefit.” Similarly, P4 wrote, “I think our

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movement has provided a place for affected individuals to address their emotional reactions, to recognize that this is an important topic, and to learn about resources/how to get more involved in advocacy related to the BLM movement.” P7 echoed this, writing, “I think [GST discussions] gave graduate students a safe space to talk about what is being done in their programs but, more importantly, what isn’t being done in their programs or at their institutions, and how they are feeling about it, as they may not feel safe to share their disappointments at their home institutions.” Overall, participants described several perceived benefits of the GST discussions, best summarized through the themes of universality, instillation of hope, inspiration of action, and the creation of a safe space to process. The need for safe spaces of universality uncovers another set of latent content. What about our institutions and programs is currently unsafe? The lack of dialogue occurring in graduate programs and on campuses creates the perception that there may be consequences for initiating social justice conversations in mixed company. Mixed company, in which everyone may not endorse the same values, can foster rich dialogue when facilitated courageously and competently. GST members, in the need to create this space, implicitly acknowledged that perhaps courage and cultural competence were not valued in their home institutions. The invitation to other students and the hope and action emerging out of the GST initiative served as a reminder of the importance of these conversations, despite initial fear and discomfort. Difficulties Encountered During GST Events Personal discomfort. Experience of personal discomfort was one of the most common difficulties identified by participants. For some researcher-participants of color, this meant an overwhelming emotional experience due to confronting the reality of violence against the Black community. P5, a woman of color, described experiencing doubt regarding whether as individuals or a group we could make a difference, adding, “It was difficult for me to stay engaged emotionally because my first coping strategy is to block everything out.” P8, a


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man of color, echoed this sentiment, stating, “One of the hardest things about [GST] was slowing down to take the time to reflect. . . . I found myself more involved in my work to avoid reflecting. Part of me was in denial about the recent brutality and shootings reported in the media against Blacks, as I found it extremely difficult to accept that these social issues were happening in 2015.” On the other hand, for some White researcher-participant s, personal discomfort meant the challenge of confronting one’s own privilege. P1 shared, “One thing that was difficult for me was acknowledging my privilege [as a White woman] and how it fit into the process of [GST] . . . I feared that I would not be able to relate to many of the participants on the call or that others would perceive me as ‘not getting it’.” P3 similarly acknowledged her privilege as a White woman, and described her attempts to be mindful as a cofacilitator. P4, also a White woman, wrote, “I found it emotionally difficult to hear about people’s experiences of discrimination and not let myself dwell on feelings of anger/aggression toward the perpetrators of said acts of discrimination.” One researcher-participant addressed a limitation of the GST process. Specifically, this researcher-participant shared the perceived discomfort of GST participants in the discussion of the dominant discourse of systemic and institutional racism, in which they all work and live. P2 identified the impact of such difficult dialogue on the process of call participants, explaining, “One of the challenges of [GST] was related to students’ trepidation discussing structural, institutional, and systemic racism.” Limits of teleconference as GST’s primary medium. In addition to personal discomfort, some researcher-participants noted additional barriers inherent to telephone communication. Several participants acknowledged the difficulty of managing a large conference call, while wanting to include as many students as possible. Time constraint was another noted concern that was compounded by the number of participants per call. Additionally, two cofacilitators noted the challenge of facilitating difficult dialogue in the absence of nonverbal communication. This observation may have influenced a common recommendation to be noted later, which was to expand GST to more in-person discussions.

The differences in the discomfort experienced by the people of color (POC) members and the White members of GST highlight additional latent content in the challenges of the GST process. POC experienced the discomfort as the initial step in confronting the pain of learning about these continued injustices against other POC, especially those who typically used avoidance as a coping strategy. The privilege of being in academic settings gave them an environment where they could focus on work, rather than process emotions, but as they grew tired of the collective avoidance and the overwhelm of frustration and pain, POC participants chose to acknowledge the discomfort and move through it in this activist process. Some White members of GST expressed discomfort related to fear of rejection and questions of belonging and purpose. They wondered whether they had a place in this movement, as White allies, and how to take their place without focusing attention on their experiences, rather than that of the POC. The limitations of teleconferencing were both protective and disruptive; GST leaders did not have to witness or be witnessed in their discomfort, but they also could not use body language as a cue to manage group dynamics. Envisioning the Future of the GST Collective Inclusion. Two ways through which inclusion could be expanded were identified as greater attention to intersectionality and interdisciplinary collaboration. Some GST leaders noted that intersectionality was not explicitly addressed during the GST process. Most of the calls were in response to the high-profile killings of Black men, and calls had not yet been coordinated to address the violence against and murders of Black women. Further, no GST calls have been scheduled in response to the killings of transgender persons, though transgender persons and transgender persons of color are at particularly high risk for violence (National Center for Transgender Equality, 2014). Accordingly, some participants wanted GST discussions to expand to address issues of other marginalized communities, such as Latinos/as, the DREAMer movement, and the LGBTQQIA community. Some GST researcher-participants further expressed hope that GST could become


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more interdisciplinary in composition and outreach, and be more inclusive of graduate students from other disciplines (e.g., public policy, education). Expansion. Several participants expressed wanting to see GST events expand into in vivo formats, such as at conferences, given the difficulty of accommodating a large number of students by phone. Indeed, when members of the GST collective facilitated an in-person discussion at the 2015 National Multicultural Conference and Summit, substantially more students were able to actively participate than by telephone. In-person discussions could also be facilitated within training programs and at internship sites. Several participants suggested further developing GST’s online resources, including greater social engagement online through the creation of an online forum, web series, and an online library of resources. As these responses were obtained, some of the recommended developments have begun, including the creation of a GST Facebook page and expansion of the GST website. It was also suggested that GST expand its research beyond the current study. Some participants expressed hope that the GST collective could further expand into social justice action, similar to what was done with the “First, Do No Harm” campaign. Latent content in the desire for inclusion and expansion is complicated. In work that centers on Black lives, there are often calls for it to be inclusive of all lives, which overtly ignores the systemic and institutional oppression of racial minorities and propels the deeply problematic rugged individualism mentality of the dominant discourse. Conversely, among GST, the future direction of inclusion was both to expand on which Black lives receive attention, beyond the heterosexual males within that community, and bridge to the similarities and unique challenges of other marginalized groups such as Latin@ and LGBTQQIA communities, which represent identities of GST leaders. Interestingly, the greatest expansion and use of GST resources was used to promote the “First, Do No Harm” campaign, which collected and donated funds to victims of torture, many of whom represent the Middle Eastern and North African communities. As a movement, POC were still centered, but it is worth mention that the original purpose of the GST group, incidents affecting Black

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communities, has yet to receive that level of activism and support from the collective. Discussion GST formed as a result of a sociopolitical climate of racial injustice, silence emanating from our professional and educational institutions, and the unique challenges of activism and advocacy in modern higher education. The work of the GST collective has been unique because it began as a grassroots initiative operating independent of any professional organization, and has been organized and run solely by graduate students. Further, GST is multiinstitutional and national in scope, providing participants with a space to process and learn, regardless of their ability to travel or the resources available at their home institutions. Results from the present discourse speak to the difficulty experienced by students who identify as advocates in the absence of perceived safety within our professional and educational environments. In less than a year, the GST collective managed to offer spaces for nearly 80 graduate students to process their personal and professional struggles in response to race-related violence, death, and police brutality. Additionally, GST’s “First, Do No Harm” campaign at the 2015 APA Convention was nationally recognized. Through the use of collaborative autoethnography, we sought to understand our own experiences not only as organizers, but also as participants in the process. What we have learned through this autoethographic process has been important to the continuing development of GST, and social justice groups under development might consider such ongoing reflective process to inform their efforts. Limitations Results should be considered in light of the methodology employed in the present study. Scholars have argued that autoethnography is more genuine than conventional research due to the researchers’ unequivocal use of self and open articulation of biases (Laslett et al., 1999). Given that the data and analyses are embedded within the researchers own perspectives, and that qualitative inquiry describes the perspectives of a few, the results may not generalize to


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all student activists; however, that themes converged among a diverse group of researcherparticipants, and between the participants and the extant literature, suggests transferability. One important limitation noted by researcher-participants was that intersectionality was not addressed by the work of GST (Crenshaw, 1988, 1991). Intersectionality allows us to recognize that every individual holds multiple, interwoven identities, and thus each person cannot be understood through affiliation with a singular social group (Chun, Lipsitz, & Shin, 2013). For instance, a person who identifies as Black, cisgender, and female exists within at least these three social contexts, and the intersection of these identities is impactful on their experiences. Although the BLM movement recognizes the importance of intersectionality, one of their founding members has commented on the exclusion of women of color, and especially LGBTQ women of color, from the history of the movement and from the larger rhetoric on state violence against Black individuals (Garza, 2014). This exclusion was also a limitation reflected in the events organized by the GST collective, which largely centered cis-heterosexual Black male murders, despite no one representing those identities in the group. Given that lack of attention to intersectionality is a common criticism of social justice movements (Cho, Crenshaw, & McCall, 2013), it is important that we reflect on potential reasons for this oversight in GST. One potential reason is that violent deaths of Black men within a patriarchal society have received the highest level of media coverage, obscuring our awareness of incidents such as those involving Black women and transgender persons. It is also possible that the news of slain Black women felt overwhelming for group members. Nevertheless, because empirical investigation and activism are political (i.e., can challenge/reflect the status quo; Goodman et al., 2004), students and professionals need to acknowledge the limitations of broad conceptions of multiculturalism and the reductionist notions of identities and social movements (Helms, 1994). Also of note is that the perspectives examined herein were predominantly the perspectives of White participants, because most participants identified as White (62.5%). Quotes were selected to provide meaningful insight into the GST process, but because balance was at-

tempted, when possible, across all participants, comments from White participants are cited more often than are comments from participants of color. This is important to consider not only in the context of the study results, but also in the contexts in which these results are situated: professional psychology, and higher education. Our sample, despite the racial imbalance (37.5% POC), is consistent with the U.S. population (36.8% POC, U.S. Census Bureau, 2012) and general college enrollment (40% POC; U.S. Department of Education, 2015). Further, greater racial/ethnic diversity was demonstrated in the sample than exists in the professional psychology workforce (16.4%) and in the general doctoral/professional workforce (25.8%; American Psychological Association, n.d.). Thus, the way in which White voices were privileged in the present study mirrors the way in which White voices are privileged in other contexts by default. Care must be taken to rectify this imbalance and highlight the voices of persons of color, particularly in the discourse of race. An additional limitation of the work of the collective was a limited repertoire of activist strategies, primarily emphasizing discussion, support, and idea generation. The exception was GST’s “First, Do No Harm” campaign. Even then, in contrast to other examples of student activism, such as the hunger strike of Jonathan Butler at Missouri, or the social media campaigns of Michigan and Harvard, the more active strategies employed by GST were in the context of professional psychology rather than higher education, and were still quite tempered. When GST mobilized around the injustice of psychologists’ participation in torture, the collective employed a multimodal set of activist strategies that combined social media campaigning with more traditional, action-oriented strategies. This focus and its successes can be understood through the tempered radical framework (Kezar et al., 2011), as the strategies GST leaders did employ used existing institutional media (e.g., conference calls; listservs; social media; visual protest) to change their organizations from within. Concerning systemic racial injustice and police brutality, however, the momentum of GST has not yet moved beyond discussion and support. Although the issue of psychologists’ participation in torture is related to race (those accused of terrorism were often


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Middle Eastern or North African individuals; MENA Psychological Network, 2015), it could be argued that GST mobilized differently around this issue because it less directly involved race, and the collective was predominantly White. An additional explanation, however, speaks to the position of graduate students in higher education versus professional psychology. Much discussion among GST participants and leaders related to feeling uncertain how to engage in activism in higher education. We argue that to take a tempered radical position—that is, to believe that oneself is a more effective activist by working within the system to change the system— one must have at least some semblance of both perceived and actual power within the system they seek to change. Kezar and colleagues’ (2011) participants held at least some power within their institutions as staff and faculty. If students are consumers, they are consumers of a product they may deem necessary for their future quality of life. In the current model of higher education, students may feel particularly disempowered to engage in activism. Disempowerment, combined with students working to pay for their education, may create a climate that makes it especially difficult for students to even consider activism. In the case of GST, the students may have felt less empowered and supported in their activist/advocate roles within higher education than within professional psychology. Indeed, Kezar and colleagues’ (2011) participants noted the importance of both student involvement in activist goals, and faculty and staff working “behind the scenes” to support student activism (p. 142). In the absence of such support from faculty and staff, it may be difficult for students to mobilize in higher education due to power structures and the need for mentorship in advocacy skills. The leaders in GST came together as established student leaders from various organizations in psychology. Accordingly, they likely felt more empowered within their professional circles than within higher education. Recommendations The support and attention given to GST’s “First, Do No Harm” campaign suggests that GST, and other student collectives, can successfully mobilize using a multimodal approach that

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combines modern and traditional activism tactics. Future research should continue to examine factors facilitative and hindering of student activism. It is imperative, however, that faculty, staff, and administrators create an activistfriendly environment, and engage in advocacy work themselves for purposes of modeling, education, and to signal support and safety to students. As for professional psychology, we echo previous scholars’ recommendations with regard to greater explicit focus on not just multiculturalism, but social justice, which requires intentionality, and more innovative pedagogy (Koch & Juntunen, 2014; Motulsky, Gere, Saleem, & Trantham, 2014; Vera & Speight, 2003). If advocacy requires moving beyond supporting a cause to systematically taking action to achieve change (Obar et al., 2012), and psychologists are to be social justice advocates, then it follows that it is the role of psychologists to take action. It can be unclear, however, what such action would look like. The silence experienced from graduate programs may have been influenced by a lack of training in advocacy skills and confusion about the role of psychology in advocacy. A recent two-issue special edition of The Counseling Psychologist dedicated specifically to nontraditional pedagogical strategies for social justice training suggests that professional psychology is continuing to learn and grow in the pedagogy of social justice advocacy (Koch & Juntunen, 2014). It is our hope that psychology educators will build on such models and provide the necessary training in advocacy skills for students. As for higher education, we echo Martin’s (2014) recommendations, as they are consistent with our participants’ experiences. It is important for campus professionals to create a safe, inclusive environment for student activism. It is not enough for institutions, departments, or programs to embed social justice values into their mission statements. Given the power differential between faculty and students within academic settings, it is recommended that faculty, staff, and administrators verbally welcome student activism (Martin, 2014). In such an environment, student activists would be proactively and positively engaged by faculty and staff to provide their voice to social justice concerns, and would be provided with intentionally developed safe spaces and campus communities (Martin, 2014). Finally, the most important rec-

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ommendation is that of cultural change at the institutional level such that administrators, faculty, staff, and students are committed to social change (Martin, 2014).


Conclusion Despite limitations, the work of the GST collective appears to have highlighted an unmet need for explicit, ongoing discussions within our professional and educational environments when difficult, culturally salient events occur in the U.S. and across the world. Successes markers of the GST collective’s efforts include anecdotal observations of the demand for GST’s calls, high attendance at the 2015 National Multicultural Conference and Summit discussion, and the swift national attention garnered by the “First, Do No Harm” campaign. Given that the spaces created by GST have begun to address a void marked by silence, our work serves as a model for how social justice initiatives led by graduate students can be developed and begin to make an impact. Moreover, the limitation of the teleconference medium, and the small number of participants relative to the population speak to the importance of programs and institutions creating safe spaces for student activism, and providing students with support and mentorship with regard to activism. Observed themes from a collective autoethnography tell a story of the importance of remembering that humans are relational and cultural beings, and we as psychologists- and educators-in-training are no exception. We are affected by the sociopolitical reality of current events, and when silence emanates from our professional environments in response to events such as repeated high-profile murders of Black men and women, we feel isolated and without a place to process. Thus, it is imperative that discussion be initiated and facilitated in academic and professional settings in response to difficult sociopolitical events. After all, if the personal is political, and as psychologists and educators we are the instruments of our work (self-as-instrument; Reinkraut, Motulsky, & Ritchie, 2009), then the professional is also political. To effectively engage in our work on race-related and other sociocultural issues, we must first be able to work through what these issues mean for us as individuals. In addition, we must work together as a professional com-

munity to determine what these current events mean for us in our roles as psychologists, educators, administrators, researchers, and advocates. This is not a question that can be answered in a culture of silence. Based on the present discourse, difficult discussion and collaboration toward advocacy is highly beneficial to students in academic settings, professional organizations, and may also be engaged one-on-one with our trainees or our mentors, informally over meals, and other available spaces. Given the power differential between student and faculty, and student and institution, it is imperative that faculty, staff, and administrators provide a safe, supportive environment for student activists to engage in social justice work. For such support to be provided, however, it may require institutional culture shifts such that higher education once again becomes deeply involved in the societal greater good (Connery, 2011; Martin, 2014). From our experiences as leaders in a multiinstitutional student collective, let our primary recommendation be that faculty and administrators take initiative to create such safe spaces in their programs of study and institutions, for both students and for colleagues, where we can ask and answer together: How am I personally affected by today’s tragedy, and together, how can we respond?

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