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“Black at”: a study of Black girls in predominantly White independent K–12 girls’ schools

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“Black at”: a study of Black girls in predominantly White independent K–12 girls’ schools

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Content “Black At”: A Study of Black Girls in Predominantly White Independent K–12 Girls’
Schools
By Akailah Jenkins McIntyre
Rossier School of Education
University of Southern California
A dissertation submitted to the faculty
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Education
May 2024

© Copyright by Akailah Jenkins McIntyre 2024
All Rights Reserved

The Committee for Akailah Jenkins McIntyre certifies the approval of this Dissertation
Briana Hinga, Committee Member
Cathy Krop, Committee Member
David Cash, Committee Chair
Rossier School of Education
University of Southern California
2024

Abstract
The summer of 2020 saw millions of people take to the streets and social media in protest of
systemic racism as a result of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd’s murders. One particular type
of protest came in the form of “Black at [insert institution name]” Instagram accounts, which
exposed racism against Black students at schools and universities. This movement began with
accounts created by affiliates of independent girls’ schools in New York City. As such, this study
utilizes qualitative methods to examine the experiences of Black girl students at independent
girls’ schools in New York City. To do so, this study assessed “Black at” Instagram account posts
from five New York City independent girls’ schools to better understand the impact that
predominantly White schools have had on Black girls. Black alumnae of these schools were
interviewed to gain insight into their personal experiences as Black girls, their perceptions of
Black girls’ experiences in predominantly White girls’ schools, and their recommendations for
better supporting Black girls moving forward.
Keywords: Black at, Black girls, Black girlhood, Girls’ schools, Independent schools, Protest,
Social media, Critical Race Feminism
iv

Dedication
To River Carolina, my baby girl. You motivated me to get this done after years of time away to
rest. Writing with you in the womb and finishing with you in my arms was a reminder of my
promise to Black girls.
To my husband, Jordan. None of this would have been possible without your motivation. Thank
you for encouraging me to step away when necessary and being the support that I needed to
finish strong. I adore you.
To my mommy, thank you for being an inspiration. Hands down, my work ethic comes from you.
I’ve watched you work toward and achieve your dreams my entire life, and it is a joy to take this
step and join you on the other side of the doctoral process.
To my family, thank you for raising me to truly believe that everything the world has to offer is
within my reach. You taught me of my magic from a very young age, and I would not be who I
am without you.
And finally, to the Black girls I’ve taught- you are the best of humanity. Your laughter, your
style, the ways you center sisterhood, and your unrelenting passion for justice inspire me.
Teaching you all brought me home to myself in many ways, and this work was done in your
honor. Thank you for inspiring me.
v

Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my committee members for seeing this process through with me.
Indeed, it has been a long road. In particular Dr. Cash, my committee chair- thank you for never
giving up. You checked in relentlessly, even after months of silence, and took seriously my calls
for programmatic equity. Your endless support along this ride has meant so much, and I could not
have done it without you. Dr. Hinga, your commitment to centering equity in your practice is
sincere and unwavering. Your class had such a lasting impact on me and profoundly informed
my educational trajectory. Dr. Krop, thank you for making the time to be a part of this journey,
and for all that you do to support countless students..
I would also like to offer a shoutout to my cohort. Two years later and it has finally gotten
done. I am proud of each of you, and thank you to those of you who supported me as I spoke
truth to power during class time. You having my back meant the world.
Further, this topic itself and so much of my writing was informed by my consulting
company, The Wells Collective, which I founded with five other Black women the same year that
I started the doctoral program. Our work centers the love and liberation of Black women and
girls, and it has been a source of healing. I could not have seen the joy and possibilities in this
project without our transformative work together. Thank you for being sisters.
Finally, this study would not be possible without the courageous alums who posted their
pain on “Black at” instagram accounts as well as those alumnae who so graciously agreed to
interviews. You didn’t have to bare your trauma, but, in true Black woman fashion, you chose to
speak your truth for the greater good. I hope that this work makes you proud.
vi

Table of Contents
Abstract iv
Dedication v
Acknowledgements vi
List of Tables ix
Chapter One: Overview of the Study 1
Background of the Problem 2
Statement of the Problem 4
Purpose of the Study 6
Significance of the Study 6
Limitation and Delimitations 7
Definition of Terms 7
Organization of the Study 10
Chapter Two: Review of Literature 11
White Supremacy 12
The Layers of Culture 16
Black Girls and Discipline: Understanding Cultural Misalignment 22
Grounding Frameworks: Intersectionality, Critical Race Feminism, and 26
Black Girlhood
Black Girls in Independent Schools 28
Chapter Three: Methodology 38
Sample and Population 39
Instrumentation 42
Data Collection 44

Data Analysis 45
Summary 47
Chapter Four: Findings 48
Participants 48
Results 50
Summary 104
Chapter Five: Discussion 107
Findings 108
Implications for Practice 115
Future Research 117
Conclusion 119
References 121
Appendix A: Interview Protocol 131
Section 1: Opening Questions 132
Section 2: Introduction Questions 132
Section 3: Key Questions 132
Section 4: Closing 134
Closing 134
Appendix B: Culture Tree 135

List of Tables
Table 1: Excluded Instagram Posts 40
Table 2: Interview Participants 48
Table 3: Theme 1: Culturally Unresponsive Environment Example Posts 67
Table 4: Theme 2: Racist Actions Toward Black Students Example Posts 71
ix

Chapter One: Overview of the Study
In the spring and summer of 2020, “Black at [insert institution name]” Instagram
accounts took social media by storm with raw, personal details of Black students’ experiences in
independent schools. Via these accounts, students anonymously shared their pain for the world to
see. One anonymous poster recalled,
My most memorable experience at Brearley was when I was in Kindergarten and I think
maybe around 5 white kids (but there were kids kind of listening in) were all asking me if
I was from Africa and/or spoke ‘African’. I remember it being so incredibly
overwhelming and I still joke about it to this day but it must have been traumatizing since
I remember it so vividly.
Another poster, who identifies as a member of Chapin School’s class of 2020, stated,
Throughout my 11 years at Chapin, I can’t even count the number of times people have
threatened to pour or splash water on my hair when I told them I couldn’t get my hair wet
after it gets straightened, or the number of times everyone in my class turned and looked
at me when we began discussing slavery.
Some might say that the accounts were inevitable. They were in direct alignment with the
racial reckoning of the time (2020–present), as prompted by the murders of George Floyd,
Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, the capitol coup of January 2021, anti-Asian murders in
Atlanta and other cities, and more. The accounts follow a history of student-led movements such
as the Birmingham Children’s Crusade of 1963 and the New York student protests of 1964. They
are this generation’s form of protest. By using anonymously-created Instagram accounts,
thousands of Black students, K–12 and college-aged alike, posted about their experiences with
racism at predominantly White schools.
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“Black at” accounts are the byproduct of White supremacy in schools. They are examples
of what happens when Black students’ well-being is an afterthought and not a priority, the
dignity of Black children is compromised for the sake of White adults’ comfort, and diversity is
more of a priority than equity, inclusion, and justice.
The accounts started among New York K–12 elite independent schools. Specifically,
girls’ schools such as The Brearley School and The Chapin School were among the first in the
nation to have such accounts (O’Kane & Wilson, 2020). With common monikers and a
determination to speak their truths, what started in New York became a nationwide movement,
with Black girls recounting their experiences of being othered and subjected to racism at their
schools. This study asserts that this all-too-common phenomenon exists in independent and
public schools alike.
Background of the Problem
Decades ago, Crenshaw (1989) coined the term intersectionality as a means of expressing
the dual experiences of racism and sexism that Black women face in society. Decades before her,
the Combahee River Collective (1977) helped lay the groundwork for recognizing the nuances of
womanhood when chronicling the experience of the combination of womanhood and Blackness.
Sitting at the intersection of two social identifiers that experience oppression results in a uniquely
discriminatory experience for Black women and girls that is often overlooked. This differential
treatment occurs in the medical industry, where Black women are three to four times more likely
to experience maternal mortality (Mann et al., 2020). It also exists in the gender pay gap, where
Black women make 61 cents to the dollar as compared to White men (Miller & Vagins, 2018).
Yet another example of this differential treatment pertains to violence and abuse, as Black
women are 2.5 times more likely to be murdered by men than White women and experience
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higher rates of psychological abuse when assessed against women overall (DuMonthier et al.,
2017).
However, Black women are not the only ones who face these adverse societal outcomes.
Black girls do as well. Black girls are more likely than anyone to be suspended or expelled in
K–12 schools (Crenshaw et al., 2015). While Black boys are suspended at higher rates than their
White male counterparts, Black girls are suspended at rates that are disproportionately greater
than the Black/White boy suspension rate differential when compared to their White female
peers (Crenshaw et al., 2015)
Still, many of these studies have occurred in public schools, where data about discipline
is reported and tracked at local, state, and national levels. However, these data are not readily
available in schools which over 5.8 million students attend (as of 2015): independent schools
(Wang et al., 2019). Co-ed or single-sex, parochial or secular, these schools are not required by
law to report disciplinary data. According to the National Association of Independent Schools
(NAIS, 2020), 5.9% of students at independent schools identify as Black. Though there is no
tangible, compiled, and cross-referenced disciplinary data to refer to regarding Black students’
experiences at these schools, Black girls have spoken out about their experiences via op-eds such
as “Not Every Black Girl Survives Private School,” written by Arah Iloabugichukwu in 2018,
and, most recently, via “Black at” Instagram accounts.
Studying Black girls’ experiences is vital to understanding the full scope of Black
independent school students’ experiences, as Crenshaw’s (1989) work suggests that analyzing
the Black male experience alone would render findings incomplete. Furthermore, looking at the
experiences of Black students of all genders fails to acknowledge the experiences of Black
girlhood. The fact that “Black at” accounts began at predominately White independent girls’
3

schools suggests that Black girls in these schools have something to say about their experiences.
They are the 6.4% of students in independent girls’ schools who sparked a nationwide movement
(NAIS, 2020).
This study used intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989), critical race feminist (Wing, 1997),
and Black girlhood (Brown, 2013) frameworks. These frameworks interrogate systems of power,
privilege, White supremacy, and historical oppression to make sense of the lived experiences of
Black women and girls. They posit that centering the voices of Black women and girls can
actively work against oppressive structures. This study sought to provide insight into the
experiences of Black girls at predominantly White independent girls’ schools by exploring the
what, where, and how of their stories. It also examined the why of it all in an attempt to create
more equitable, loving, and anti-racist schools.
Statement of the Problem
As evidenced by research about Black girls’ experiences in public schools and posts by
Black girl students and alumnae about their experiences in independent girls’ schools, Black girls
face dual discrimination. This is a particular issue for girls’ schools, given their focus on gender
parity. The International Coalition of Girls’ Schools (2024) cited their vision as an organization
“united in elevating women’s leadership worldwide by educating and empowering our students
to be ethical, globally minded changemakers” (para. 1). In tandem, The Chapin School cited its
mission statement as being
dedicated to empowering a diverse, ambitious and resolute community of young women
to thrive and lead in their world. Guided by our motto, Fortiter et Recte, Chapin considers
bravery, compassion, service and respect for self and others to be fundamental values. We
believe that equity, inclusion and collaboration are critical to personal growth. By
4

advancing and deepening each student’s agency, confidence and resilience within an
affirming and joyful learning environment, Chapin strives to ensure that each student is
emboldened to pursue distinction as a leader and contributing citizen (n.d.).
The Brearley School’s mission (2016) is as follows:
The Brearley School challenges girls of adventurous intellect and diverse backgrounds to
think critically and creatively and prepares them for principled engagement in the world.
Guided by a dedicated community of adults, students develop a command of many
disciplines, a love of learning and a resilient and generous spirit. The bond among
students and with their teachers is rooted in a passionate exchange of ideas and an
appreciation for the unique and lively contributions of each individual.
A Brearley education unfolds over a lifetime. The School instills in its alumnae the
confidence to pursue their ambitions and the wisdom to live balanced and purposeful
lives.
Among these examples from the body governing girls’ schools and the institutions whose
students launched the “Black at” movement, there is a common thread of diversity, passion,
ethics, and exploration of self. The question becomes, “For whom?” Who is afforded the
opportunity to have a mission-aligned experience without the burden of racism at independent
girls’ schools? The creation, longevity, and popularity of “Black at” accounts suggest that Black
girls are not.
Zaretta Hammond (2014) described students’ experiences with racism as one that hijacks
their brains, inducing trauma and rendering them unable to experience school in the same ways
as their White peers. Social media has served as a means for students to use their voices and
speak out about their differential treatment as they demand change.
5

Purpose of the Study
This study sought insight into the experiences of Black girls at predominately White
independent girls’ schools. The study assessed public “Black at” Instagram posts for common
trends and themes and the implications of said themes through a lens centered on
intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989), critical race feminist (Wing, 1997), and Black girlhood
frameworks (Brown, 2013). Interviews with Black alumnae of independent girls’ schools
provided further insight into their lived experiences, perceptions of Black girls’ experiences, and
potential pathways for improved outcomes. The study addressed the following research
questions:
1. How do New York City independent girls’ schools’ “Black at” instagram posts provide
insight into the experiences of Black girls attending a predominantly White institution?
2. How do Black women alumnae of predominantly White independent girls’ schools
describe the experiences of themselves and other Black girls?
3. How do Black women alumnae suggest independent girls’ schools can better support
Black girls?
Significance of the Study
This study sought to provide insight into the racialized experiences of Black girls in
predominantly White independent girls’ schools, with implications for Black girls beyond these
environments. Understanding these experiences has direct implications for Black girls’
experiences in public and private educational spaces and for adjusting educational practices to
more closely reflect their needs. Because Black girls become Black women, Black girls’
schooling experiences have direct implications for Black women’s health experiences, workplace
experiences, and societal outcomes. This study’s potential impact spans beyond the classroom.
6

Limitation and Delimitations
This study was limited to Black independent girls’ school students and their perspectives
on attending independent predominantly White girls’ schools. Interview questions related to
exploring Black girls’ experiences and what supports, if any, were suggested.
The delimitations of this study pertained to the participants’ gender (women/girls), their
race (Black), geographic location at the time of school attendance (New York City), school type
(independent K–12), and connected to the schools in question as students or alumnae.
The results of this study are otherwise limited in that it relies on self-reported data from
posters, so the researcher could not be fully certain of posters’ identities. Further, the study is
limited in scope to schools of a specific region, which may hamper generalizability.
Definition of Terms
Alumna(e): Female graduate(s) of a particular institution. For the purposes of this study,
“alumna” is used to refer to a single graduate of one of the independent schools selected for
assessment by the researcher, and “alumnae” is used to refer to more than one graduate.
Black girls: The term “Black” is an inclusive one, which refers to race and not necessarily
ethnicity. As such, Black people can include those who are African American, Afro-Latina,
African, and other members of the African diaspora. The term “girl,” as utilized in this context,
is gender inclusive- to include anyone who identifies as a girl, regardless of sex assigned at birth.
For this research, Black girls were the sole focus of study via “Black at” post-analysis and
alumnae interviews.
“Black at” accounts: Instagram accounts created in the summer of 2020 (often by
students or alumni) to address the experiences of Black students in independent schools. Posts to
the accounts were often anonymous and used a shared moniker of “Black at [a school’s name].”
7

These accounts are also referred to as “Black @” accounts. For this study, I assessed “Black at”
account posts written by alumnae of selected independent girls’ schools.
Culturally responsive teaching: A pedagogy that recognizes the importance of including
students’ cultural ways of doing, being, and knowing as critical to all aspects of teaching and
learning (Ladson-Billings, 1994). For this research, culturally responsive teaching is often cited
as a means of better educational outcomes for Black girls.
(Educational) Equity: Equity works to provide people with resources that fit their
circumstances. It is adaptable, individual-focused, and fair. In education specifically, schools that
prioritize equity are keenly aware of their students’ needs and work to provide resources that
address their specific challenges instead of giving them the same resources as those who do not
face similar challenges (Waterford.org, 2020). For this research, studying Black girls and their
experiences sought to further educational equity by advancing their needs and understanding
their positioning and outcomes.
Girls’ schools: A term that refers to schools that are historically comprised of students
who identify as women or girls. The term ‘girls’ school’ is used in lieu of ‘all girls’ school’ for
inclusivity purposes.
Independent (private) schools: According to the NAIS, independent schools are driven by
missions, governed by boards of trustees, and funded via tuition payments and charitable
donations. Some are religiously affiliated. All are accountable to their communities and are
accredited by state-approved accrediting organizations. The term “private schools” can also be
used to describe these institutions (National Association of Independent Schools, n.d.). For this
research, all schools selected identify as independent schools and are part of the National
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Association of Independent Schools. When the term “independent (private) girls’ school” is
used, it refers to an independent school historically comprised of young women.
Intersectionality: The theory of intersectionality describes the compounded experience of
the dual discrimination of both racism and sexism, allowing a more holistic analysis of Black
women’s experiences with subordination at a heightened level that is both unique and greater
than simply combining racism and sexism independently (Crenshaw, 1989, p.140). This research
assessed Black girls’ positioning at the intersection of both racism and sexism for a greater
understanding of their experiences and outcomes.
Predominantly White schools: This term commonly refers to schools whose populations
are more than 50% White. For the purposes of this study, this metric is the case for some schools,
but not all schools in this study. This is a result of schools’ geographic locations and ongoing
pushes for increased diversity. Because the schools were all founded during segregation and are
traditionally and historically White, the term is used for all selected institutions to make clear
their cultural underpinnings, irrespective of present-day racial makeup. For reference, selected
private girls’ institutions range from 37.5 to 61.8 percent White and 6.2 to 11.7 percent Black
(Niche, 2024).
White supremacy: The term “White supremacy” posits that years of unearned superior
status for White Americans (from enslavement through Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Era, and
beyond) resulted in an assumption of earned, continued superiority for those who are “defined
and perceived as White, and the practices based upon that assumption” (DiAngelo, 2017, para.
5). For this research, White supremacy refers to the unearned benefits of White girl students in
predominantly White independent schools, per the stated experiences of their Black girl student
and alumnae counterparts.
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Organization of the Study
This study is organized into five chapters. Chapter One offers an overview and rationale
of the study, including key terms, limitations, and delimitations. Chapter Two presents a review
of literature on White supremacy, the layers of culture, Black girls and discipline, grounding
frameworks, and Black girls in independent schools. Chapter Three details the study’s
methodology, including sample population, instrumentation, data collection, and analysis.
Chapter Four reports the findings of the research. Chapter Five offers a discussion of those
findings. References and appendices are in this document’s final pages.
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Chapter Two: Review of Literature
The purpose of this study was to explore the experiences of Black girls at predominantly
White independent K–12 girls’ schools, as shared via their Instagram “Black at” accounts. This
chapter reviews literature that contributes to this exploration. The chapter begins with an
overview of White supremacy. White supremacy is “a term that captures the all-encompassing
centrality and assumed superiority of people defined and perceived as White, and the practices
based upon that assumption” (DiAngelo, 2017, para. 5). Because Black girls’ differential
experiences are often racially motivated and therefore predicated on the assumption of the racial
superiority of Whiteness, it is important to begin with this definition. The section further includes
a discussion specifically about White supremacy in education.
Next is literature about culture, which tacitly shapes and informs societal expectations.
The section explores various levels of culture- surface, shallow, and deep (Hammod, 2014)
before examining the cultural implications of White supremacy. It ends by grappling with Black
women’s long-standing history of being countercultural, along the lines of both race and gender
expectations.
The subsequent section discusses White supremacy’s prevalence in schools and how data
on Black girls’ disciplinary outcomes indicates schools’ inability to engage with Black girls in a
culturally responsive way. This section leads into an overview of the frameworks used in the
study: intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989), critical race feminism (Wing, 1997), and Black
girlhood (Brown, 2013). The aim was to present Black women’s perspectives of their existence
at the intersection of race and gender, centering their voices and needs in a society wherein they
see grim outcomes.
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Finally, the chapter focuses on Black girls at independent girls’ schools, utilizing a Black
girlhood framework to understand their positioning and experience (Brown, 2013). It chronicles
the experience of a girls’ school alumna in her own words before discussing the perspectives
hundreds of students and alumnae shared via “Black at” Instagram accounts.
White Supremacy
More fully understanding the impact of predominantly White spaces on Black girls
requires assessing and confronting White supremacy. Often, there is an assumption that White
supremacy exists only in overt acts of terror, oppression, and physical violence against
minoritized populations. Instead, White supremacy should be understood as a virulent force that
affects all ways of being and doing, not just in the United States but in the world.
Whiteness is so often viewed as the implicit standard that it can remain invisible, thus
thwarting our understanding of societal ills and rendering them more difficult to understand.
Gillborn (2006) discussed the often unspoken deep implications of White supremacy:
By “White supremacy” I do not mean to allude only to the self-conscious racism of
White supremacist hate groups. I refer instead to a political, economic and cultural
system in which Whites overwhelmingly control power and material resources, conscious
and unconscious ideas of White superiority and entitlement are widespread, and relations
of White dominance and non-White subordination are daily re-enacted across a broad
array of institutions and social settings. (p. 320)
There is much evidence of what Gillborn named the political, economic, and cultural system
from which White Americans perpetually benefit. Politically, all but one president of the United
States has been a White man, despite America’s standing as a soon-to-be majority-minority
country. Economically, Black Americans remain disproportionately impoverished compared to
12

their White counterparts, concentrated in lower-paying occupations, and lack representation in
those that pay higher wages (Stewart et al., 2021). There is also a large wealth gap between
Black and White Americans, harkening back to enslavement when White Americans could gain
and pass down wealth and Black Americans could not. Stewart et al. (2021) indicated,
We estimate a $330 billion disparity between Black and White families in the annual flow
of new wealth, some 60 percent of which comes from inheritances. Every year there is a
massive intergenerational transfer of family wealth, creating an effect that is both
profound and self-perpetuating. Black families are less likely to receive inheritances, and
when they do, the amounts are smaller. The gap in inheritances between Black and
[White] recipients is some $200 billion annually. (p. 18)
In effect, Black Americans came to this country via enslavement with no economic power and
remain economically disadvantaged in comparison to White Americans, as the playing field has
never been leveled.
Further, the cultural landscape in America has maintained deep-seated racial division
with few signs of reconciliation. Employers view Black names as less hirable; names that tend to
sound more White (i.e., Emily or Greg) have the upper hand and receive 50% more callbacks
than names that sound as though they belong to Black people (i.e., Lakisha and Jamal), speaking
to the embedded cultural norms of Whiteness (Bertrand & Mullainathan, 2004). This is White
supremacy in practice.
In the most general sense, White culture itself is not inherently supremacist or oppressive.
It is a way of being, passed down from European ancestors, in the same ways that African
Americans have culture passed down by their African ancestors or Indigenous Americans have
cultural ways of being and doing long held by their Indigenous ancestors. Instead, White culture
13

becomes White supremacy culture when ways of being that are in alignment with historically
White/European practices are deemed the norm, and other ways of existing are subjugated,
relegated, punished, and targeted. It is when these practices occur that White culture becomes
White supremacy culture. This is a direct byproduct of European colonization worldwide, though
the focus of this study is on the American context and schools in particular.
White Supremacy in American Education
The impacts of White supremacy further include the education system, which was
founded to serve White, traditionally wealthy boys and men. Enslaved persons, Native
Americans, women, and many others were excluded at the start of the formal education system
in the early 1600s. Therefore, it is not surprising that Black youth are falling behind in the
American education system. Following the end of enslavement in 1865, Black children were
educated in segregated, under-resourced schools until the 1960s with the passage of the Civil
Rights Act of 1964. Even still, schools across the United States resisted desegregation efforts,
and White Americans fled to the suburbs, resulting in continued segregation and under-resourced
schools for Black students. Today, America’s K–12 schools are more segregated than in the late
1960s, and schools have become increasingly more segregated across the country since 1990
(Orfield & Jarvie, 2020).
Therefore, while the laws have changed, de facto segregation remains, as have ideologies
about Black youth rooted in deficit thinking and racism. Notably, Black youth have been
educated in legally segregated schools for longer than they have been educated in legally
desegregated ones. Discrimination remains prevalent today, with educators’ teaching quality
declining when there are greater numbers of Black and Latinx students in their classes, indicating
negative biases from teachers about their Black and Latinx students’ ability to learn (Cherng et
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al., 2022). Tropes of Black people as unintelligent and less able to learn are rooted in the White
supremacist system of slavery when Black people were viewed as less than human and forbidden
from being educated. These tropes continued in the Jim Crow era when minstrelsy mocked Black
people as unintelligent, and into the pre-Civil Rights Era, when Black and White students were
educated separately due to continued beliefs that Black students were inferior. Today, teachers’
biases against Black students suggest continued beliefs of Black inferiority.
Enduring tropes against Black students are not limited to teachers’ perceptions of
students’ intelligence, as they include teachers’ perceptions of students’ demeanor. As early as
pre-school, teachers view Black students as more likely to display challenging behavior than
their White peers and even seek that behavior out in them when none is present, suggesting a
presumed predisposition for poor behavior (Gilliam et al., 2016). Further, Black students are
suspended at a rate that is 3.5 times that of their White peers, even for minor infractions,
resulting in poorer grades and worse perceptions of school for Black youth (U.S. Department of
Education Office for Civil Rights, 2014; Del Toro & Wang, 2022). Researchers raise concerns
that such punitive discipline practices may be contributing to poor academic outcomes for Black
youth (Del Toro & Wang, 2022).
To draw a line from their days in school to when they are ready to enter the job market,
starting in pre-school, Black students are perceived as misbehaving even when not presenting
challenging behaviors and are not taught up to par with their White peers, developing poor
attitudes about school as a result (Cherng et al., 2022; Gilliam et al., 2016; Del Toro & Wang,
2022). Poor attitudes toward schooling may make it less likely for Black students to graduate and
achieve at the rates of their White counterparts, and when they do graduate, they face lower pay
in the job market and discrimination based on their names, as well as a myriad of other hindering
15

factors (Bertrand & Mullainathan, 2004; Stewart et al., 2021). This is White supremacy in
practice.
The Layers of Culture
Societal outcomes in regard to race are long-standing, the result of an embedded cultural
belief of Black inferiority and, by default, White superiority. Hammond (2014) further explained
the concept of culture and how it works as three levels: surface, shallow, and deep (Appendix B).
Surface culture consists of observable patterns and has a low emotional impact on trust. These
elements of culture include components such as language, food, clothes, music, and art. Shallow
culture consists of unspoken rules, and there is a high impact on emotional trust when there is
misalignment in this category. Shallow culture includes concepts of time, acceptable food
sources, personal space, eye contact, ways of handling emotion, honesty, the tempo of work,
child-rearing principles, and more. Finally, deep culture is a collective of unconscious beliefs and
norms. There is an emotional impact on trust in this component of culture. Aspects include world
view, definitions of kinship and identity, decision-making, notions of fairness, preferences for
competition or cooperation, and more (Hammond, 2014).
Aspects of surface culture in American schools include uniforms, school songs, and
traditional art projects. Regarding shallow culture, American schools generally have particular
practices around timeliness (bell schedules, consequences for tardiness), preferences for eye
contact with adult figures as a form of respect, and certain expectations regarding the tempo of
work (i.e., completion of assignments by particular deadlines). The deep cultures of schools,
often going unnoticed, vary. Some schools may have unstated cultures of democratic
decision-making, while others may have cultures of student advocacy. Often, each school has its
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own identity depending on its composition, region, affiliations (religious or otherwise), type
(public, charter, private), and more.
White Supremacy Culture
White supremacy culture brings together the notion of White supremacy and its insidious
nature together with culture and its subtle omnipresence to more readily explain racial dynamics.
White supremacy culture suggests that at the various levels of culture, White cultural norms are
prioritized as the standard way of being and that the cultures of people of color are subjugated,
targeted, and vilified. Okun (2021) defined White supremacy culture as follows:
Culture reflects the beliefs, values, norms, and standards of a group, a community, a
town, a state, a nation. White supremacy culture is the widespread ideology baked into
the beliefs, values, norms, and standards of our groups (many if not most of them), our
communities, our towns, our states, our nation, teaching us both overtly and covertly that
whiteness holds value, whiteness is value. It teaches us that Blackness is not only
valueless but also dangerous and threatening … It pits other races and racial groups
against each other while always defining them as inferior to the White group. White
supremacy culture is reflected in the current realities of disproportionate and
systemic harm and violence directed towards BIPOC people and communities in all
aspects of our national life – health, education, employment, incarceration, policing, the
law, the environment, immigration, agriculture, food, housing (p. 4).
This notion of White supremacy culture as an ideology that is “baked into the beliefs, values,
norms, and standards” of our institutions suggests that White supremacy culture thrives in the
deeper aspects of societal culture (Okun, 2021, p. 4).
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Black Women Pushing Back Against White Supremacy Culture
To further concretize the experiences that undergird White supremacy culture, Jones and
Okun (2001) outlined how it commonly reveals itself within society. These practices include
defensiveness, quantity over quality, paternalism, power hoarding, either/or thinking, a sense of
urgency, and individualism. Black women, in particular, have historically stood in direct
opposition to various aspects of White supremacy culture in a number of ways.
First, Black women have historically sought to counter the White supremacy culture
tactic of defensiveness. Jones and Okun (2001) described defensiveness as White people
spending energy against charges of racism, as opposed to determining where and how racism
might actually be occurring. Historically, such defensiveness took place in the Jim Crow South at
the height of lynching. Lynchings, especially of Black men, were commonplace in the deep
South, with little to no accountability for what White folks deemed to be sport- even taking their
children to witness the murders.
Journalist Ida Wells-Barnett, also known as Ida B. Wells, launched a campaign to
document lynching, which was largely undocumented, following the lynching deaths of her
friends. She spoke out about the atrocities of the practice in two pamphlets in which she
chronicled 241 lynchings and toured the nation, decrying the ongoing travesty (Bill of Rights
Institute, n.d.). In response, her press was destroyed, and a White mob came after her, forcing her
to flee to New York. Wells-Barnett is an example of the legacy of Black women advocating for
justice. Despite White Americans’ defense of lynching, Wells-Barnett stood her ground and
insisted that their cultural norm was not normal but egregious, rooted in fallacy, and deserving of
exposure.
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Wells-Barnett’s legacy of challenging White Americans’ cultural norms is not unlike the
legacy of Rosa Parks, who insisted that segregation was not normal, or any other Black-led
organizations, often undergirded by Black women, which demanded a new cultural way of being
that fostered inclusivity and justice: the Combahee River Collective, National Association of
Colored Women, National Association of the Advancement of Colored People, the Southern
Christian Leadership Conference, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, and even the
Black Lives Matter movement of today). Both history and the present day have shown Black
women to be unwilling to stand by as White Americans used their tactic of defensiveness to
defend moral ills.
Black women have also historically pushed back against the White supremacist cultural
ideologies of power hoarding and either/or thinking. Jones and Okun (2001) defined power
hoarding as feeling threatened by any suggestions of change and viewing power as a limited
resource; they define either/or thinking as the rejection of a both/and mentality and having a
sense that a group of people is either with you or against you. These ideologies were notably
present during the women’s suffrage movement. One example was a gathering of suffragists in
Seneca Falls, New York, in 1848. While there, with the support of White men and one Black
man (Frederick Douglass), suffragists were staunch in their advocacy for White women to vote,
inviting no Black women to the convening (Brown, 2018). When White women did come
together with Black women to advocate for women’s right to vote, White women enforced lines
of division by insisting on segregation. Per Wesleyan University (n.d.),
Despite the racial divisions, Black women were collective in their courage in the fight for
equality. Ida B. Wells-Barnett, the journalist who led an anti-lynching campaign in the
late nineteenth century, organized the Alpha Suffrage Club among Black women in
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Chicago and brought members with her to participate in the 1913 suffrage parade in
Washington, D.C. The organizers of the march asked that they walk at the end of the
parade. She tried to get the White Illinois delegation to support her opposition of this
segregation, but found few supporters. They either would march at the end or not at all.
Ida refused to march, but as the parade progressed, Ida emerged from the crowd and
joined the White Illinois delegation, marching between two White supporters. She
refused to comply with the segregation (para. 8).
Upon passage of the 19th Amendment, White women gained the right to vote while
Black women did not. White women have thus historically displayed power hoarding by refusing
to share power with Black women as they advocated for voting rights and either/or thinking in
the assumption that it was not possible for both Black and White women to gain voting rights. It
had to be one or the other. Black women did not gain the right to vote until the Voting Rights Act
in 1965, 45 years after the passage of the 19th Amendment.
Black women have consistently countered White supremacy culture by embracing the
ideologies that we are better together, that it is possible for all persons to have equal rights, and
that the status quo must be challenged. As a continuation of this legacy, Black girls seem to be
jutting up against the cultural norms of the schools they attend. A deeper look at White
supremacy culture and its presence in schools sheds light on Black girls’ positionality and plight.
White Supremacy Culture in Schools
Though deep culture is school-dependent, there are unspoken practices of pre-K–12
schools that may align with White supremacy culture. These aspects of culture can lead to
conflict when not unearthed and addressed. One example is the definitions of kinship and group
identity (an aspect of deep culture). While schools often view themselves as having a unique
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group identity that students subscribe to (alumni groups, mascots, school slogans, and songs),
some students may not view themselves as part of this group identity if it does not reflect their
cultural norms or support their ways of existence. For example, an Indigenous student may not
identify with the school mascot and song if they include references to Indigenous people in a
tokenistic fashion (i.e., the chiefs as the mascot or the tomahawk chop as the school’s rallying
cry). Such practices relegate students of color to the margins, positioning White cultural norms
as the default.
Schools indoctrinate students into behaving in ways that align with their deep culture of
White supremacy. Whether historical examples of Indian boarding schools that forced
assimilation with hair-cutting and suit-wearing or modern examples of Black students facing
disciplinary consequences due to ethnic hairstyles such as locs, there is ample documentation of
the insistence that students of color adhere to the cultural norms of schools.
Jacobs (2016) outlined how schools, as microcosms of society, enact cultural norms and
behavioral expectations that align with White supremacy culture as well as White femininity,
meaning bleak outcomes for Black girls:
Schools, which serve as “purveyors of sociocultural knowledge” (Brown, 2012, p. 28),
act as socializing agents for youth in that they often communicate, replicate, and
reproduce the norms of dominant society (Giroux, 1983). In the case of Black girls,
schools reproduce and reinforce the undervalued and oppressed status of Black girls
through many of their daily policies and practices such as enacting harsher disciplinary
actions in comparison to their White peers (African American Policy Forum & Center for
Intersectionality and Social Policy Studies, 2015; NAACP Legal Defense and
Educational Fund & National Women’s Law Center, 2014; U.S. Department of
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Education, 2003), alarming rates of suspension, and increased contact with the
juvenile-justice system as a result (Blake, Butler, Lewis, & Darensbourg, 2011; Morris,
2016). In her ethnographic study of students of color at a diverse public high school in
Washington D.C., Fordham (1993) found that the Black girls who were the most
successful in school were those who were silent, and therefore, invisible in the eyes of
teachers and administrators. Fordham analyzes this pattern of behavior through the
concept of “passing” (p. 3). She suggests that, by being silent, Black girls are attempting
to “pass” as something that they are not: the White female. The act of being silent,
Fordham argued, represents Black girls trying to adopt the persona of silence that schools
appear to value in (White) female students. (pp. 225–226)
Jacobs (2016) offered greater nuance to the notion of White supremacy culture in schools by
indicating how it works in tandem with certain gender expectations to produce virulent
disciplinary outcomes for Black girls.
In K–12 schools, Black girls’ rates of suspension are six times higher than their White
female peers, as compared to Black boys, whose rates are three times higher than their White
male counterparts (Crenshaw et al., 2015). Further, darker-skinned Black girls are more likely to
be suspended than their lighter-skinned peers (Hannon et al., 2013). Such outcomes are a nod to
colorism that dates back to times of enslavement, during which proximity to Whiteness afforded
one more privilege. These pervasive and racist ideologies have stood the test of time and
continue to have a deleterious effect on the childhoods of countless Black girls.
Black Girls and Discipline: Understanding Cultural Misalignment
The majority often shapes cultural norms and expectations regarding behavior. In the
United States, White women comprise the majority of the teaching force, with about 76% of
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teachers in all schools being women and 80% being White (Taie & Goldring, 2020). It, therefore,
stands to reason that White women’s cultural norms have become classrooms’ cultural norms
and perhaps the standard to which students are expected to conform and against which they are
measured. This conjecture would explain Black girls’ desire to replicate White girlhood in
schools and their receiving of praise for doing so (Fordham, 1993).
However, the fundamental differences between White woman displays of femininity and
Black woman displays of femininity result in poor schooling outcomes for Black girls. Cole and
Zucker (2007) discussed these nuances and their implications:
Dominant femininity and the typically White upper-middle-class women who can
achieve it are conspicuously valued within mainstream American culture, resulting in
social devaluation of other women. Collins (2004) referred to this femininity as
hegemonic, suggesting beliefs about desirable gender practices help to maintain
inequality by persuading subordinated people that ideologies favorable to the ruling
group are natural or common sense (Lull, 2003). She argued these prescriptive ideals
represent “a normative yardstick for all femininities in which Black women are relegated
to the bottom of the gender hierarchy” (p. 193). (p. 1)
Dominant or hegemonic femininity is akin to White supremacy culture, but along gender
lines, reinforcing expectations of gendered behaviors for those who identify or are perceived as
woman/female. Collins (2004) described dominant or hegemonic femininity with a few core
elements: beauty, demeanor, marriage and family arrangements, sexuality, and (White) race. For
this study, the categories of race and demeanor are most relevant. When considering mainstream
ideals around a feminine demeanor, Mahalik et al. (2005) cited Crawford and Unger (2000) and
Gilbert and Scher (1999) as identifying traits such as being nice, focusing on relationships,
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nurturing others, being silent, and deferring to men as critical aspects of displaying a feminine
demeanor. Niceness and silence, in particular, are traits that have not historically shown
compatibility with Black women’s displays of femininity. Instead, as previously discussed, Black
women have traditionally insisted on not remaining silent and foregone likeability to challenge
cultural norms. Cole and Zucker (2007) further expanded on Black women’s legacy of resisting a
docile demeanor, defying traditional expectations of feminism:
The concept of femininity has long been fraught for Black American women in particular
because they have historically been treated as though they exist outside of its boundaries
as they faced economic exploitation, virulent stereotyping, and lack of legal protection by
virtue of their race (Collins, 2000). … Black women activists have long asserted their
femininity (and correspondingly, their respectability) as a means to claim entitlement to
legal protection and civil rights and standing for the race as a whole (Giddings, 1984). …
Black communities have historically encouraged and rewarded Black women for
incorporating certain traits and behaviors that are incompatible with hegemonic
femininity—including strength, assertiveness, wage labor, and community leadership
(Gilkes, 2001)—particularly when doing so in the service of family, community, or racial
advancement. Over time Black femininity came to be understood as encompassing traits
of expressiveness, instrumentality, and resilience. (p. 2)
Black women’s incompatibility with certain gendered expectations, however, does not
mean that they reject hegemonic femininity in its totality. Indeed, there are other components of
traditional femininity that Black women embrace, including ideologies around beauty, marriage,
and family (Cole & Zucker, 2007). That is to say, Black women’s relationship with gender
expectations is much more cultural and nuanced than their White peers. And because this is the
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case for Black women, so too is it the case for Black girls, who learn societal cultural
expectations from their mothers.
Jacobs (2016) indicated that Black girls continue, from young ages, the legacy of
resisting dominant cultural norms and that they are taught to do so by their mothers:
Research focusing on the gender socialization of Black girls suggests Black mothers and
Black women role models intentionally attempt to socialize Black girls to counter
dominant norms and protect themselves from the potential psychological damage caused
by negative messages and images (Belgrave, 2009; Fordham, 1993; Morris, 2007; Ward,
1990). As a result, Black girls are often described as displaying androgynous gender
beliefs, meaning they possess both high masculine beliefs (being “independent, assertive,
willing to take risks, a leader, and decisive”; Belgrave, 2009, p.18) and high feminine
beliefs (being “emotional, attentive, caring, cooperative, and helpful”; Belgrave, 2009, p.
18). (p. 228)
Just as Black women have complex relationships with dominant femininity, so too do their
daughters. Jacobs (2016) expanded on Black girls’ complicated relationship with femininity and
gender norms. She stated,
For Black girls, much of their experience around gender identity development stems from
the lack of congruency between their physical characteristics and the dominant standards
of femininity and beauty in the U.S. (Cauce et al., 1996; Ward, 1990). Instead of being
celebrated, characteristics such as a voluptuous body type, a variation of brown skin
colors, and curly hair are looked on as falling outside of the norm and being undesirable
according to societal standards (Cauce et al.,1996). Additionally, Black girls’ gender
identity development is connected to the ways in which Black girls tend to embody
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behaviors and beliefs that are counter to the dominant gender norms (Ashcraft &
Belgrave, 2005; Way, 1998). As a result, Black girls are often portrayed in a negative
light. (p. 227)
Collins (2009) posited that Black girls hold a status that readily renders them outsiders and that
other groups define normalcy based on their distancing from the margins to which they relegate
Black girls. Within the context of schooling, this assertion is congruent with Black girls’
disciplinary outcomes. They are deemed abnormal, pushed out, and punished at disproportionate
rates.
Grounding Frameworks: Intersectionality, Critical Race Feminism, and Black Girlhood
Intersectionality theory (Crenshaw, 1989) renders an analysis of Black girls’ positioning
in schools, as informed by White women educators’ defining of dominant culture along racial
and gender lines. This is because intersectionality describes the compounded experience of the
dual discrimination of both racism and sexism, allowing a more holistic analysis of Black
women’s experiences with subordination at a heightened level that is both unique and greater
than simply combining racism and sexism independently (Crenshaw, 1989, p. 140).
Building on intersectionality theory’s defining of Black women’s societal positioning as
one that is unique due to their nuanced racial and gender dynamics, a critical race feminist
(Crenshaw, 1989; Wing, 1997) framework uplifts the perspectives of Black women by centering
their intersectional narratives to critically examine dominant culture’s structures that work
against them (Berry, 2010). Examples of said structures include White supremacy and
hegemonic femininity.
Given that the same racial, cultural, and gender nuances that apply to Black women
extend to Black girls, the Black girlhood framework is an asset-based framework that centers the
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needs, voices, perspectives, and possibilities of Black girlhood, countering the deficit-based
narratives often found in the literature on Black girls (Brown, 2013). Hill et al. (2023) expanded
on the theory:
Black girlhood emphasizes the agency, creativity, and resistance of Black girls (Brown,
2013). Given that most of the literature focusing on girlhood centers on [White]
middle-class girls or presents a whitewashed picture of girlhood (Damour, 2017; Pipher,
1994), Brown (2013) drew on Bambara’s (1980, 1982) descriptions of the elements of
Black girlhood to create an attuned framework for researchers and adult allies who work
with Black girls. Using the findings from her qualitative study working with a group for
adolescent Black girls as a guide, Brown (2013) developed five principles that describe
the Black girlhood framework:
● Articulate visionary Black girlhood as a meaningful practice
● Showcase Black girl inventiveness of form and content
● Expand our vision of Black girlhood beyond identity
● Sense radical courage and interdependence
● Honor praxis, the analytical insight that comes only by way of consistent
action and reflection (p. 3). (p. 136)
The Black girlhood framework (Brown, 2013), a byproduct and extension of intersectionality
theory (Crenshaw, 1989) and critical race feminism (Wing, 1997), challenges society to view
Black girls as entities worth deeply understanding, envisioning possibilities for, and centering as
deserving of critical conversation and consideration beyond the harm caused to them. Such
practice requires an ongoing interrogation of Black girls’ societal positioning through their
perspectives and is the guiding framework for this study.
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Black Girls in Independent Schools
While the data on Black girls in schools is grim, available disciplinary statistics are for
Black girls who attend public institutions, given that disciplinary data (i.e., suspensions and
expulsions) are required to be recorded and accessible to governmental institutions such as the
Department of Education, which makes this data available to the public. Such access is not the
case, however, for independent schools.
Independent schools are different from public schools due to six key characteristics:
“self-governance, self-support, self-defined curriculum, self-selected students, self-selected
faculty, and small size” (Kane, 1991, p. 397). Gulla (2021) expanded:
In addition to being privately funded, an independent school is chartered by the state in
which it is located; usually operates as a 501(c)(3) organization according to the federal
tax code; is governed by a self-perpetuating board of trustees; conducts its business
primarily according to contract law rather than constitutional law (think private versus
public law); reserves the right to admit, enroll, retain, or expel its students in accordance
with its own (legally permissible) standards and processes; and determines its curriculum,
educational philosophy, and pedagogical practices according to its mission and without
outside interference. And for most independent schools, accreditation standards are
broadly conceived and intentionally allow for significant latitude. At their best,
independent schools develop a cohesive, mission-driven culture that attracts families and
employees who are drawn to this specific type of school. (para. 6)
Independent schools, therefore, have the leeway to hire who they desire, admit (and
suspend/expel) who they please, and teach what they would like. What might this mean in terms
of student outcomes, and Black girl students in particular?
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Hill et al. (2023) described the experience of Black students in independent schools,
noting the challenges that they face as a result of entering these environments:
While integration efforts have afforded [non-White] students’ opportunities to attend
private and independent schools in America (Purdy, 2018), the social and cultural
foundations of curriculum, pedagogy, and teacher workforce in these contexts were
exclusively designed for the education of predominantly [White], wealthy European
American children (Spring, 2019). While Black students gain access to resources that
come with learning in these contexts, they also encounter and must overcome everyday
threats to their racial, academic, and socioemotional development (DeCuir-Gunby et al.,
2012). (p. 137)
Further, data from the Institute of Education Sciences shows that while 79.3% of teachers
in public schools are White, 85.1% are White in private schools (Taie & Goldring, 2020).
Regarding gender, 76.5% of teachers in public schools are women, and 74% in private schools.
With similar teacher demographic data, it stands to reason that Black girls may see similar
disciplinary outcomes in private schools. And though the means of disciplinary action may prove
different in private schools given their self-defined nature, the fundamental premise of White
women teachers shaping the cultural behavioral expectations of schooling environments stands.
For those institutions that are single-sex, expectations around femininity could prove even more
entrenched.
Upon speaking with middle and high-school-aged Black girls about their experiences at
all girls’ independent schools, Hill et al. (2023) found that students were keenly aware of the
schools’ tendencies to proclaim their intentions to uplift women despite their perpetual focus on
what one student names as “bourgeois feminism … leaving out the experiences of women who
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are not [White]” (p.141). The student readily noted a disconnect between the school’s stated
progressive nature and her lived reality, stating that White women and girls would have to be
decentered for the institution to truly actualize its proclamation of forward-thinking ideologies.
Yet another student specifically discussed gender expectations in the girls’ schooling
context, stating that attending the school damaged her self-esteem due to assumptions that she
was unattractive because of her race (Hill et al., 2023). For her, this created pressure to assimilate
to White gender standards, and she mentioned that there were expectations for people of color to
be lighter, suggesting a gender-cultural preference for proximity to Whiteness. Hill et al. (2023)
noted that this participant internalized White supremacist and colorist ideologies and that this is
the consequence of Black girls not being provided with the “spaces, places, and time to express
themselves and nurture the fullness of who they are and where they are from,” thus being
“emptied of their authentic identity and sense of value, and they fall victim to the internalization
of racist and anti-Black ideologies” (p. 145).
Hill et al. (2023) acknowledged that the literature on Black girls in schools is scant, and
the literature on Black girls in independent girls’ schools is even more so. Despite the lack of
available studies, Hill et al. (2023) asserted that “centering experiences of Black girls is a
worthwhile approach in recognizing the nuances of oppression they face and facilitating
appropriate interventions” (p.150).
Black girls who attend independent girls’ schools seem keenly aware of the nuanced
environment that they occupy and demand that their voices and experiences be considered. To do
so, they have taken to the internet to share their stories, even before the phenomenon of “Black
at” social media accounts. The Black girlhood framework allows for centering these experiences,
uplifting their complex narratives (Brown, 2013). While the work of Hill et al. (2023) provided a
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synopsis of the perspectives of 42 middle and high school Black girl students who were actively
enrolled in girls’ schools, there is also the perspective of alumnae who attend these schools and
grapple with their experiences retroactively. Arah Iloabugichukwu shared this perspective in a
2018 op-ed in which she described her and her best friend Sidney’s experience at a private
Pittsburgh girls’ school, which she began attending in sixth grade after attending predominantly
Black and low-income inner-city schools. Her narrative is a first-hand account of her time at the
institution, thus removing the second-hand account of Black girls’ experiences inherent in a
published study. As such, her perspective uplifts critical race feminism (Wing, 1997) and Black
girlhood (Brown, 2013) theories, given that she is a Black woman now reflecting on her time as
a Black girl via a public medium that removes any filtering or truncating of her experiences.
Black Girl Alumnae of Independent Girls’ Schools: Arah’s Story
From the start, Arah realized that she was deemed an outsider at her new school. There
were just five Black girls out of the 48 students in the grade, and the administrators minced no
words about how excited they were about the diversity of the class, which seemed all but diverse
to her. At the onset of her writing, Arah referred to the institution she attended as a
“pseudo-prison” and noted her gratefulness to have survived her time within its walls, unlike her
best friend, Sidney.
Arah recounted various traumatizing narratives of her time at the school with her best
friend. She recalled a time when the two were made out to be thieves, and her best friend
defended herself in an attempt to more readily fit in with the dominant culture:
One afternoon, we were chased down by a cafeteria employee accusing Sidney and I of
not paying for our meals. With no receipts and no security cameras to vouch for us, we
quietly followed the lady back to the cafeteria where another worker recalled ringing us
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out. Disappointed by the lack of scandal, our accuser sent us on our way with our shame.
Our classmates, in an attempt to unpack the situation, concluded that we were new (aka
Black) and on scholarship (aka poor) and that that justified the worker’s suspicion. “I’m
not on scholarship!” Sidney snapped. We both were, but I could see how embarrassed
Sidney was by the assertion that because we received financial assistance, we would need
to steal food (Iloabugichukwu, 2018, para. 3-4).
She discussed the impact of the environment on both her and Sidney and described one teacher’s
(presumably a White woman) reaction after wrongfully accusing her of not having an
assignment, which resulted in a suspension (Iloabugichukwu, 2018). Arah said that the educator
made it clear that she hated her, told her there was a reason she could not afford the school, and
decried her lack of academic prowess that, from her perspective, rendered Arah incapable of
keeping up with her peers. This teacher indicated that Arah did not measure up to the school’s
academic, financial, or social expectations, thus speaking directly to the deep school culture of
which she deemed her an improper fit. Arah noted that other adults in the room did not take up
for her when the teacher spoke to her in this way, a sort of passive agreement about the
institution’s tacit cultural expectations. When recounting her days at the school, Arah recalled
that “every day was a constant reminder that we were unwanted and unwelcome, that it was pity
affording us the opportunity to learn alongside the daughters of the city’s elite and we should
express our gratitude a little more quietly” (Iloabugichukwu, 2018, para. 6). This sentiment
aligns with Collins’s (2009) assertion that Black girls are deemed outsiders while Whiteness is
viewed as the norm.
However, the author wrote the piece for her best friend, Sidney. While they both
struggled in their culturally unresponsive schooling environment, with the author engaging in
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self-harm and battling an eating disorder upon entering high school, Sidney took a turn for the
worse. By the time she entered high school, she was abusing both marijuana and Adderall. Arah
described this downward spiral as a consecutive step after Sidney’s middle school experience:
By the time we reached the 8th grade, Sidney’s brand of mean girl had become a campus
favorite. She slowly embraced the “resident black bitch” title she’d earned around
campus and whatever people thought of her, they knew better than to say it to her face. I
knew Sidney was playing a role and I didn’t judge her for it, we had been stripped of our
innocence the moment we entered an environment where our differences were used to
demean us. Being subjected to the intentional micro aggressions of our classmates and
educators was just the price we paid for “making it out.” And being publicly paraded
around as diversity initiatives in front of donors and board members got old quick
(Iloabugichukwu, 2018, para. 5)
With no means of fitting in, Sidney embraced her relegation to the margins. Caught in a paradox,
her fate while attending the private girls’ school only worsened. Ultimately, Sidney was found to
have been sending threatening messages to popular, presumably White, girls at the school, and
faced expulsion. She was, according to the author, a “pet for the prestigious or the quintessential
Black friend” and was discarded expeditiously despite previously expressed sentiments that the
not-yet-found culprit deserved sympathy because they were a member of the school community,
however wayward (Iloabugichukwu, 2018, para. 14). Upon determination that the threats were
coming from Sidney, Arah indicated that such sympathies vanished.
Sidney’s story became more bleak following expulsion. In June of 2004, she was found in
a river, and her death was ruled a drug overdose. However, Arah stated that the school they
attended killed Sidney spiritually long before she left the earth physically. That is to say, Sidney
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was a Black girl whose existence did not meet her school’s cultural expectations, and she
resented the institution and its occupants for her experience. The consequences were dire for her
mental health and wellbeing, and she lashed out at who she may have deemed to be the
“keepers” of the culture she could not fit in with- the popular girls. Sidney was rendered the
problem, not the institution or its tacit ways of being, and the self-governing nature of the school
she attended allowed for her expulsion.
On the surface, Sidney’s experience may have been perceived as a student deserving of
disciplinary consequences due to an egregious action. When considering her experience through
the lens of Black girlhood, I posit that Sidney’s culture and voice were not respected, heard, or
valued in the institution (Brown, 2013). As such, she suffered and acted out due to feeling
unheard, undervalued, and discarded. The lens of Black girlhood aids in understanding the
nuance of Black girls’ disciplinary outcomes. Otherwise, there is a risk of falling into common
traps and assumptions about their behavior. The framework calls for interrogating how Black
girls’ experiences resulted in the actions they are taking, getting to the root of the issue and not
just the outcome.
Arah closed her work by questioning whether institutional academic prowess is worth the
social and mental sacrifice for Black children and asking who seeks to repair the harm caused to
Black students at these institutions. Now a mother herself, she pushed back on the idea that
White academic spaces yield better outcomes for Black children and pleaded with readers to
“snap out of whatever programming has conditioned us to believe that White educators have our
children’s best interest at heart and acknowledge that children cannot be appropriately educated
in spaces where they’re pitied and deemed expendable” (Iloabugichukwu, 2018, para. 17).
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Black Girl Students and Alumnae of Independent Girls’ Schools: “Black at” Instagram
Accounts
Laurel School’s Center for Research on Girls conducted a mixed-methods study on the
experiences of Black girls in girls’ schools, with 52 students in Grades 5, 8, and 11 participating
(White & Boyd, 2015). Their research summarized the racial experiences of Black girls in girls’
schools as follows:
● Girls reported that they contended with racial stereotypes both inside and outside the
school classroom, and that they sometimes experienced isolation in their
extracurricular activities.
● Girls conveyed that they were not always viewed as individuals, but rather as
representatives or stereotypes of their race or culture.
○ Across grade levels, at all schools, and inside and outside of the classroom,
African American girls described:
■ being confused with other African American classmates,
■ being asked to speak on behalf of their race, and
■ being subjected to stereotypical expectations (often related to poor
academic performance). For example, several girls talked about
teachers verbalizing their surprise at the girls’ ability to excel in
particular academic subjects. (White & Boyd, 2015, p. 2)
○ Other girls discussed being singled out to offer the “African American”
perspective during class discussions of racism, civil rights, or slavery.
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○ From a peer perspective, girls reported that classmates often view them as
experts on slang and Black culture or as being so different that peers didn’t
make a genuine effort to connect with the girls as individuals.
The study findings reinforce the notion of Black girls as cultural outsiders in girls’ schools and,
further, validate Black girls’ choices to speak out about their experiences, much like Arah.
Indeed, in 2020, Black girls took to the internet via social media - Instagram- to make
their perspectives known. According to CBS News, the “Black at” account movement was
started in New York City private schools, with “Black at Brearley” and “Black at Chapin,” both
girls’ schools, being among the first accounts (O’Kane & Wilson, 2020). The accounts
galvanized students from past and present. Accounts included private and public K–12 schools as
well as those affiliated with universities. It was a form of online organizing and activism that
revealed experiences in direct alignment with White and Boyd’s 2015 findings about Black girls’
experiences in their girls’ schools.
Researchers at Columbia University’s Klingenstein Center have archived posts from at
least 253 “Black at” accounts and used automated text mining to determine relevant themes.
Their initial focus has been on New York area schools, where they have grouped the experiences
students shared into the following categories: “racially charged classroom incidents, often
involving curriculum and pedagogy; interpersonal incidents outside of the classroom; and
students of color trying to share racist incidents only to be ignored or told by faculty, staff, and/or
fellow students that they were being too sensitive or blowing things out of proportion”
(Brittingham Furlonge & Graves, 2022, para. 10).
Though Brittingham Furlonge and Graves’s (2022) research suggests that Black students
overall are having culturally irrelevant experiences in independent schools, in accordance with
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the Black girlhood framework, this study focused on Black girls’ experiences specifically
(Brown, 2013). The “Black at” account movement began with Black girls experiencing the
duality of racism and sexism at White private girls’ schools. This study, therefore, sought to offer
a comprehensive analysis of these posts to more readily understand Black girls’ intersectional
experiences in their own words.
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Chapter Three: Methodology
This study explored Black girls’ experiences in K–12 independent girls’ schools and
addressed the following research questions:
1. How do New York City independent girls’ schools’ “Black at” instagram posts provide
insight into the experiences of Black girls attending a predominantly White institution?
2. How do Black women alumnae of predominantly White independent girls’ schools
describe the experiences of themselves and other Black girls?
3. How do Black women alumnae suggest predominantly White independent girls’ schools
can better support Black girls?
I utilized qualitative methods to address the research questions because the intention was
to better understand a societal occurrence. A qualitative approach allows for greater nuance and
detail in ways that quantitative methods would not, as it “attempts to make sense of, or interpret,
phenomena in terms of the meanings people bring to them” (Denzin & Lincoln, 2013, p. 3).
More specifically, I conducted a case study. Case studies are an appropriate means of qualitative
study when the research is evaluating contextual conditions, with a belief that certain contexts
are pertinent to the phenomenon being studied (Yin, 2003). Case studies explore issues in depth
through one or more instances within the same system, setting, or context (Creswell et al., 2003).
In this study, student experiences were assessed at various independent girls’ schools (the same
context), with the belief that this particular setting was vital for understanding a certain group of
people’s outcomes- Black girls. Case studies will also often explore cases over time, utilizing an
in-depth analysis and multiple data sources. Accordingly, this study analyzed Instagram posts
over the course of a year. For these reasons, a case study method proved most fitting.
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Sample and Population
I used purposeful sampling with an inclusive criterion approach to identify and narrow
the scope of schools to better assess common trends among schools of a similar type (Palinkas et
al., 2015). Purposeful sampling involves selecting individuals or groups with knowledge about a
particular phenomenon, and in the criterion approach, the researcher selects only cases that meet
predetermined criteria. I utilized the criteria of analyzing only “Black at” account posts from
predominantly White non-boarding independent girls’ schools in New York City that had lower
(starting in kindergarten), middle, and upper school programs. I chose schools that were not
religiously affiliated, as religious affiliations add another layer of experiences. Removing this
factor helped to further narrow the sample. The same is true of my choice to select schools that
did not have a boarding or pre-kindergarten component.
New York City is considered the five boroughs (The Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan,
Queens, and Staten Island). I selected New York City girls’ schools given that the “Black at”
movement presumably began with two New York City girls’ schools - The Brearley School and
The Chapin School. According to the New York State Association of Independent Schools
(NYSAIS), of which all selected schools are members, there are 203 registered schools in the
State of New York (n.d.). Of that list, 16 schools are girls’ schools, and 11 of those 16 are in New
York City. Of the 11 New York City girls’ schools, only five schools met the full list of
aforementioned criteria (K-12, non-boarding, secular), which were as follows:
● The Brearley School - @BlackatBrearley
● The Chapin School - @BlackatChapin
● The Hewitt School - @BlackatHewitt_
● Nightingale-Bamford School - @BlackatNightinagle
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● The Spence School - @BlackSpenceSpeaks
All of these schools had active “Black at” Instagram accounts at the time the study commenced.
Limiting the sample in this way allowed me to pull from the experiences of Black girls who
likely had no more than 13 years of experience in schools (given that some schools offer
additional grades, such as pre-1st grade) and live in or are from the New York City area.
I assessed posts from both current students and alumnae. This study did not include those
who identified themselves on their Instagram post as a faculty member, parent, or otherwise. I
assumed that the race of the poster was Black unless otherwise noted, in which case I excluded
the post from analysis (Table 1). I included posters who identified themselves as mixed-race.
Any posts that were not deemed relevant to Black students’ experiences were also removed. It is
important to note that I was unable to reliably ensure that posters identified as Black, current
students, or alumnae, given the anonymous nature of the posts.
Across all five schools in the study, approximately 671 individual Instagram slides met
the criteria for analysis. Slides in this case are individual Instagram squares. I coded each slide
individually because in some cases, the same poster shared different stories across slides,
warranting differential codes between the respective slides. These 671 slides came from 374
Instagram posts across all institutions. Posts contained between one and ten individual slides, and
each post was attributed to one poster. There were a total of 251 individual slides that did not
meet the criteria, and were subsequently excluded from the study. As such, there were 921 slides
available for analysis. With 671 being coded, approximately 73% of “Black at” slide posts met
the coding criteria.
Table 1
Excluded Instagram posts
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Excluded post Rationale
Hewitt is nothing more than a sanctimonious facade filled with
decades of inadequate leadership. My employment there was a
traumatic experience. In my first month of classes, all of a
sudden there were "complaints" about my teaching, which is
hilarious because I literally won awards as an educator before I
got there.
Staff member
In second grade, during lunch, a girl from a very conservative
family was mocking asians. She and a few girls around her
started pulling their eyes, saying "ching chong' or other phrases
mocking asian culture. Everyone laughed because I think they
forgot that I'm half asian.
Non-Black poster; Not
related to Black students’
experience
I remember my first time picking my daughter up from a play
date, and I was not greeted with a "Hello," but rather a, "Are
you her nanny?" Please educate your children and let them
know that not all nannies are black, and not all black women are
nannies.
Parent
Attention to all. These posts are our recollections, the stories of
Black girls. These stories are supposed to show the lack of
empathy and consideration for us as young women. These
stories deal with the impact of the hurt and pain of their
behavior. When you ignore the effects of your actions, you
make yourself the center of attention.
Announcement by account
moderators
One of the security guards is an extremely racist Trump
supporter. Constantly posts racist posts on his Facebook
accounts. So disgusted. I unfriended him 4 years ago.
Not ascertainable as a
relevant example of Black
students’ experience within
or adjacent to the schooling
context
I interviewed five accessible alumnae who attended the independent schools in question.
They represented two of the five institutions. I specifically selected Black women alumnae,
given their former status as Black girls who attended the institutions in question, with the
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understanding that these shared identities with students who made posts in the institutions may
allow for better insight into Black girls’ experiences.
Instrumentation
To conduct the study, I first utilized document review paired with a qualitative thematic
coding framework as well as interviews. The document review consisted of reviewing “Black at”
posts from the time of the first anonymous post on each of the Instagram accounts until a year
past that date. I determined that a year would be a comprehensive amount of time to critically
assess the posts and would also comprise one full school year (given that these accounts were
created in the summer of 2020 and assessed through the summer of 2021). This time frame
allowed me to assess posts throughout the school year that were relevant to students’
experiences, and aligned with the standard case study practice of exploring cases over time
(Creswell et al., 2003).
I then determined key words from the first research question and assessed all Instagram
posts for examples of posts that spoke to the experiences of Black girls during their time in
predominantly White independent girls’ schools. According to Merriam and Tisdell (2016), it is
important to establish categories for coding early to allow for easier analysis and interpretation.
For context, the first research question asked, “How do New York City independent girls’
schools’ “Black at” instagram posts provide insight into the experiences of Black girls attending
a predominantly White institution?”
While assessing the posts, I searched for evidence of Black girls’ experiences that were
unique to attending a predominantly White girls’ school. This approach aligns with ethnographic
content analysis (also known as content analysis), which is a reflexive and interactive analysis of
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qualitative sources in which the investigator is central and an assessment of the nature of the data
source determines salient themes (Altheide & Schneider, 2013; Merriam & Tisdell, 2016).
I also interviewed Black women alumnae who attended their institution for at least grades
9–12 consecutively. In alignment with research questions 2 and 3, I interviewed them to better
understand the experiences and needs of Black girls in independent schools from their
perspectives. The interview included 17 questions (Appendix A). I conducted these interviews
via video conference. The interviews were semi-structured, and I recorded them for transcription
and a more thorough analysis after they concluded (Creswell, 2009). I began by collecting
demographic information (Patton, 2015) before moving on to questions about the participants’
time at their institutions generally via key questions that directly related to their experiences as
Black girls and, finally, closing questions and recommendations. I again utilized content analysis
to assess the interviews.
Finally, I viewed my positionality as an asset when conducting this study. I am a Black
woman who attended predominantly White schools for the majority of my K-12 schooling, to
include all of middle and high school. I went on to attend a majority White elite research
institution for undergraduate and graduate school. As such, I have the lived intersectional reality
to readily relate to the experiences expressed by study participants. What’s more, as a Black
woman who owns a diversity, equity, and inclusion consulting company and served in the role of
a diversity practitioner in East Coast independent girls’ schools, I felt that alumnae might be
more willing to share detailed information during interviews due to relatability. My positionality
helped me to establish a connection with interviewees, and subsequently increased my credibility
(Hoffmann, 2007).
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Data Collection
To collect document review data, I downloaded all Instagram posts from the five schools’
“Black at” accounts. I identified all posts written by Black or mixed-race students and alumnae
in accordance with the study’s focus. This required me to remove posts written by parents/family
members, staff, or anyone who explicitly stated that they were not Black or did not attend the
indicated institution. Afterward, I assessed the posts using the content analysis method to
determine salient themes related to the experiences of Black girls in White independent girls’
schools.
To collect interview data, I utilized a convenience sampling approach and sent emails to
all who met the study criteria. I received contact information from an associate who attended one
of the schools on the study list and was familiar with alumnae across all of the institutions. In
those emails, I included a description of this study and the research questions and asked about
times when the potential participants were available. I emphasized that these conversations were
completely voluntary and would be kept anonymous, and I secured participant consent prior to
the interviews (Bogdan & Biklen, 2007).
During the interviews, I ensured that participants knew they were being recorded and had
the option to opt out. I also let them know that they only needed to answer questions that they
were comfortable with and that they could stop the interview at any time to ensure their
well-being and comfort and to reduce the risk of harm (Robinson & Leonard, 2018).
Furthermore, I notified participants that they could redact their statements at any point up until
publication.
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Data Analysis
The research questions and guiding theoretical frameworks directly informed the data
analysis. I used only qualitative methods: document analysis of Instagram posts and interviews
with Black women alumnae. After I completed document analysis, I assessed the data findings
for salient or recurring themes. I began by noting the themes that arose in the first posts I
assessed, as they related to the experiences of Black girls in a predominately White private girls’
school. I moved on to the next post and determined what themes were present there. I utilized
this method for each post for an entire institution and began to determine where themes became
consistent to find trends and combine comments, notes, and codes (Merriam & Tisdell, 2016).
This method is known as analytical or axial coding (Charmaz, 2014; Corbin & Strauss, 2015;
Richards, 2015). Merriam and Tisdell (2016) indicated that in this process, categories, themes,
and findings must be exhaustive, mutually exclusive, sensitive, and conceptually congruent. I
followed these criteria as I documented themes, using the complete analysis of one school’s
entire year of posts to create a coding framework, before going on to review the remaining
institutions’ posts, adding additional codes as necessary until the coding framework was
complete and all posts were coded. I then wrote a summary of my findings, noting primary
thematic categories that encompassed various codes.
Black girlhood framework tremendously influenced my creation of the thematic
categories as I sought to center the voices and perspectives of Black girls (Brown, 2013). To do
so, I documented codes that spoke to Black girls’ experiences, in accordance with research
question 1. I underwent the process of coding with a belief that Black girls’ creation of these
accounts that demanded that their perspectives be heard is an example of what Brown (2013)
refers to as radical courage (a tenant of the Black girlhood framework). When creating the codes,
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I also worked to “expand [my] vision of Black girlhood beyond identity” (Hill et al., 2023), by
intentionally focusing on how Black girls described the environment that they were existing in -
not necessarily focusing on their deficits within the environment, but instead how they
experienced the environment itself. Further, I coded with the assumption that the schooling
context is inadequate to meet Black girls’ cultural needs, and that, in accordance with Critical
Race Feminism (Wing, 1997), understanding the extent of that inadequacy requires deep analysis
and centering their intersectional perspectives.
With these vantage points in mind, I ascertained five thematic categories in total. Four
thematic categories spoke to the damage of the schooling environment (culturally unresponsive
environments, racist or culturally insensitive actions toward Black students, stereotypes about
Black students, and negative self-responses to a racist environment). While one aforementioned
category does name negative actions that Black girls are taking against themselves, it also
intentionally indicates that those actions are in response to the environment in which they exist,
adding context. The final thematic category that was determined, thriving in spite of a racist
environment, pushes back against deficit-based ideologies about Black girls (Brown, 2013).
Various codes were housed within these five thematic categories.
Interview Analysis
Following all interviews, they were transcribed and cross-referenced with notes taken
during the interviews. I then used the same content analysis approach that was utilized with the
Instagram post analysis. I began with one interview, determined themes, went to the next,
repeated the process, and determined where trends were emerging (Merriam & Tisdell, 2016).
This time, however, my focus was on the participants’ experiences at their schools and
recommendations for supporting Black girls in accordance with research questions 2 and 3:
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2. How do Black women alumnae of predominantly White independent girls’ schools
describe the experiences of themselves and other Black girls?
3. How do Black women alumnae suggest independent girls’ schools can better support
Black girls?
After this process was complete, I again wrote a summary of the findings, noting
emerging categories. I then took the summaries from the results of the data analysis to compile
findings and put forth responses to the research questions.
Summary
This study used solely qualitative methods: content analysis of artifacts from “Black at”
Instagram accounts and interviews with Black women alumnae at New York City independent
girls’ schools. This analysis resulted in insight into Black girls’ experiences (as self-reported and
from the perspectives of alumnae) and suggested ways to better support Black girls. These
findings are presented in Chapter Four and discussed in Chapter Five.
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Chapter Four: Findings
This study aimed to understand the experiences of Black girls in predominantly White
K–12, non-boarding, secular independent schools in New York City. Its impetus was the creation
of online “Black at” Instagram posts in the summer of 2020 that began with private girls’
schools, highlighting the experiences of current Black students and alumnae of the institutions.
The study analyzed “Black at” Instagram account posts and interviewed alumnae to gain insight
into Black girls’ experiences and to compile recommendations for improving Black girls’
outcomes going forward. I used intersectionality (Creshaw, 1989), critical race feminist (Wing,
1997), and Black girlhood (Brown, 2013) frameworks as grounding to conduct analysis.
Participants
This study included both active and passive participants. I collected active study
participants’ insight via structured interviews with Black alumnae of two of the five schools
examined in this study (Table 2). I found the participants via convenience sampling, having
received their email addresses from an associate who attended one of the schools and was
familiar with other Black alumnae.
Table 2
Interview Participants
Pseudonym School division(s) attended
Ciara Lower school, middle school, upper school
Destiny Upper school
Meredith Lower school, middle school, upper school
Nina Middle school, upper school
Renee Middle school, upper school
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If participants attended any grade level in a particular division, I counted them as having
attended the school in that division (i.e., attending 8th grade only still qualifies a participant as
having attended middle school at their institution). To ensure the utmost protection of their
confidentiality, I assigned participants pseudonyms and did not connect them to any institution.
All alumnae graduated from their institutions in the 2000s.
There were also passive study participants. I studied passive participants from a distance
after they published their narratives online via “Black at” Instagram posts. These participants
self-identified as Black and as current students or alumnae of the identified institutions. They
shared the stories of their tenure at the institution in a publicly accessible online format. I
included those who identified as multiracial, presuming that Black heritage was a part of their
multiracial identity. In some cases, Black students or alumnae wrote posts that were not solely
about their experiences at the school; they were instead experiences at their homes with peers,
their parents’ experiences on campus or with those affiliated with the school, or teachers’ actions
that impacted their time at the institution. I included these posts for analysis insofar as they were
directly speaking to adjacent experiences that informed the posters’ perspectives about their
schools.
Even still, not all who posted online identified as current Black (or mutiracial) students or
alumnae. In some cases, posters identified themselves as parents, teachers, staff, or non-Black
(including posters indicating Latina identity with no mention of Afro-Latina or otherwise Black
heritage). In other instances, creators of the Instagram accounts posted announcements or made
general comments about the culture of the institution that did not speak to specific experiences. I
excluded these types of posts from the study (Table 1).
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The number of current students and alumnae who were passive participants is estimated
to be in the hundreds. Across all five schools in the study, 671 individual slides met the post and
poster criteria for analysis (251 did not and were subsequently excluded). Slides, in this case, are
individual Instagram squares. I individually coded each slide. These 671 slides came from 374
Instagram posts across all institutions. This means that the study had up to 374 individual passive
participants. Though, presuming that 25% to 50% of posters posted more than once, a more
accurate number of passive participants may be between 180 and 280 as a rough estimate. This
number cannot be calculated with certainty, given the posts’ anonymous nature.
Results
This study’s results are organized by research questions, along with salient themes that
emerged in correspondence with these questions. The following sections present and discuss the
themes for each question. The research questions for the study are as follows:
1. How do New York City independent girls’ schools’ “Black at” instagram posts
provide insight into the experiences of Black girls attending a predominantly White
institution?
2. How do Black women alumnae of predominantly White independent girls’ schools
describe the experiences of themselves and other Black girls?
3. How do Black women alumnae suggest predominantly White independent girls’
schools can better support Black girls?
Results for Research Question 1
Research question 1 asked, “How do New York City independent girls’ schools’ “Black
at” instagram posts provide insight into the experiences of Black girls attending a predominantly
White institution?” An analysis of “Black at” Instagram posts using the axial coding method
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found that codes fell into five primary categories, resulting in five core themes that represent the
experiences of Black students and alumnae. Figure 1 displays these themes.
Figure 1
Visualization of “Black At” Instagram Account Key Themes
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An overview of each thematic category and corresponding codes in that category is
below.
1. Culturally unresponsive environment (35%): These Instagram slides indicated that the
institution’s environment did not support Black students’ cultural backgrounds and
well-being. The most prevalent codes included in this category were as follows (all
prevalent codes are listed in order of most to least frequency):
● Lack of cultural awareness: Refers to statements made or situations that occur
in which involved non-Black parties either willfully disregard, intentionally
evoke for the purpose of inflicting pain, or are ignorant of the cultural context
and/or historical implications of their statements or actions.
● Sentiment of being an outsider or not belonging: Black students express a
sentiment of not feeling as though they belong to the school community, often
as a result of their race, a specific (often racially-motivated) incident, their
socioeconomic status, or otherwise.
● Failure to hold White students or faculty accountable: After a racist or
insensitive action or incident, White students or faculty are not held
accountable by those with the power to do so in the institution.
● Curricular trauma or culturally unresponsive curriculum or class: A
curriculum, class, speaker, or presentation is offensive, historically insensitive
or inaccurate, or unresponsive to the culture of Black students.
● Black students explaining racism or cultural contexts: Black students are
asked or made to explain racism as a result of racist situations that they are a
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part of, resulting in an additional burden that their White counterparts did not
experience.
2. Racist or culturally insensitive actions (33%): These Instagram slides referred to
actions taken against Black students as a result of their race by their peers, teachers,
or parents of peers. The most prevalent codes included in this category were as
follows:
● Microaggressions or macroaggressions
○ Microaggression: A comment or action that (sometimes unconsciously
or unintentionally) expresses a prejudiced attitude toward a Black
student. While microaggressions are sometimes viewed as subtle
comments or actions, the impact tends to be profound
(Merriam-Webster, 2024)
○ Macroaggression: A comment or action that blatantly expresses a
prejudiced attitude toward a Black student.
● Targeting or ostracizing
○ Shining a spotlight on Black students due to their race or picking
Black students out of a group to target.
○ Shunning or excluding Black students intentionally.
● Minimizing the impacts of racism
○ Minimizing or being nonchalant, dismissive, or defensive about the
impact of racist harm.
○ Blaming Black students for their responses to racist events or
convincing Black students that it is not worth it to challenge racism.
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● Othering based on hair: Black students are made to feel as though they are
outsiders because of their hair; can include hair touching, gawking, or
hair-specific offensive comments.
● Tokenization
○ Black students are asked to be the representative of their race before
groups of people, most often speaking for the experiences of all Black
students.
○ Black students are asked to represent the school in a way that promotes
diversity (i.e., via panels or photos).
○ Black students are viewed by peers in a way that pigeon-holes them
into what others have decided they should be for them or to them as a
result of their race.
3. Stereotypes about Black Students (14%): These Instagram slides referred to
generalizations made about Black students due to their race.
● Stereotypes (general)
○ Relates to stereotypes being applied to Black girls by their peers,
teachers, or classmates’ parents, including presumed aggression,
loudness, etc.
○ Refers to situations or comments in which historically racial
stereotypes are applied to Black people as a group, or remarks are
made to Black students that are affiliated with assumptions of
Black people as a population (i.e., the idea of Black people as
criminals).
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● Assumed lack of intelligence or ability: Presumptions that Black students
are not as smart or capable of success as their peers, that they have
learning differences or are atypical learners and, in some cases, in need of
medication as a result.
● Inability to differentiate between Black students:
○ Mixing up Black students for one another, sometimes even across
grade levels, or confusing current students for alumni.
○ Can also apply to cases in which Black students are presumed to
know/be in relationship with one another.
● Counseling down (college): Black students are actively discouraged from
applying to certain colleges due to assumptions that they will not be able
to get in or generally told that they will not get into/do well in college
environments.
● Assumption of guilt: Using race as a means of presuming that Black
students are guilty of a particular action; targeting Black students as the
guilty party in a situation.
4. Negative self-responses to a racist environment (13%): These Instagram slides
referred to reactions that Black students had to the racial atmosphere of the school,
internalizing harm and thus harming, contorting, or conforming themselves.
● Self-silencing, safety, or protection: As a result of a racist incident or the
environment of the school, Black students choose to silence themselves as
opposed to speaking out about the harm caused. This can include laughing off
harmful occurrences as a means of protecting oneself.
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● Internalized racism or self-consciousness: As a result of a racist incident or the
environment of the school, Black students begin to believe racist ideologies
about themselves or become self-conscious about their identity or culture.
● Shape-shifting (to fit dominant culture): As a result of a racist incident or the
environment of the school, Black students change aspects of themselves or
their identities to more readily fit the dominant culture. This can also include
masking identity components to fit in or working harder than their peers as a
means of proving themselves.
● Ongoing recollection of racist event: As a result of a racist incident or the
environment of the school, Black students or alumnae have consistent
recollections of a negative racial memory.
● Ongoing trauma/mental health issues due to racism at school: As a result of a
racist incident or the environment of the school, Black students or alumnae
have racial trauma or mental health issues that are ongoing throughout their
time in the institution and/or adulthood.
5. Thriving in spite of a racist environment (5%): These Instagram slides referred to
Black students finding ways to protect themselves and withstand their environments
in spite of the culturally unresponsive or racist nature of the schools they attended.
● Standing up for oneself in the face of racist actions: In response to racist or
culturally insensitive actions that have taken place, Black students are
speaking up, making their needs known, or otherwise standing up for their
dignity.
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● BIPOC student/parent support: In response to racist or culturally insensitive
actions that have taken place, Black students’ peers or parents are speaking
up, making their needs known, or otherwise standing up for their peers’ or
children’s dignity.
● College success: In spite of a culturally unresponsive environment or explicit
attempts to sabotage college success, Black students go on to succeed in
college.
These themes and corresponding codes represent the totality of findings from the
Instagram posts. They will be discussed further in the upcoming sections.
Discussion of Research Question 1
More than one-third (35%) of all posts analyzed indicated that Black girls attending
predominantly White private schools were in culturally unresponsive environments. At first
glance, these findings seem inconsistent with such institutions’ prestige. The data revealed,
however, that these schools receive great acclaim for their academic strengths, but their status
comes at the expense of fostering environments in which Black students are seen, heard, valued,
and respected.
Discussion of the Most Prevalent “Black At” Posts Theme: Predominantly White Girls’
Private Schools as Culturally Unresponsive Environments
Predominantly White schools being culturally unresponsive environments is not a novel
notion for Black families, who have grappled with head-versus-heart decisions when selecting
the K–12 schools in which to educate their children (Allers, 2019). While the head schooling
choice means potentially placing one’s child on a path to success via attendance at a
predominantly White institution that could open doors or provide a more rigorous academic
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curriculum,the heart schooling choice centers the need for Black children to feel safe, celebrated,
and nurtured in a racially diverse or predominantly BIPOC environment.
The head choice may give Black students an upper hand in life, gaining appeal due to the
barriers they will otherwise face because of the color of their skin, but it can come at the cost of
their psychological safety, which is critical for identity formation and holistic, effective
knowledge acclimation and retention (McKinley, 2010). In contrast, the heart choice may
provide this psychological safety but come at the cost of intellectual rigor and access to certain
networks. The cost of intellectual rigor is particularly evident via the watering-down of
curriculum and deficit-based thinking teachers often apply to minority students, albeit
unintentionally at times (Anagnostopoulous, 2002; Ford, 2004).
For Black families who make the head choice to place their students in predominantly
White institutions, private or otherwise, the cultural impacts on their students can be profound.
This impact is further detailed in the following Instagram post:
I didn’t realize until I got older just how much [my institution] made me feel like an
imposter. It wasn’t until I got into college that I thought about just how much attending a
PWI impacted me while I was attending another PWI. “I realized my education wasn’t
just for me. It was for my white, wealthy, privileged, powerful peers. I was part of their
education. Being a Black student meant knowing no matter how often your peers
dismissed you, you’d get right back up to that podium and share your experience while
people picked it apart or ignored it. Rinse and repeat. Being a Black student meant
watching and listening to your peers co-opt Black language and Black culture, while they
debated you on the validity of your existence and your Black life. It meant knowing each
time there was an assembly, gathering, or teach-in relating to race, you would have to
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listen to your white peers talk about how they hated these discussions because they were
uncomfortable, when so many of us lived every day of our lives in discomfort.
Being a Black student meant turning your anger into something productive because being
angry was not enough. It was knowing that your race would supersede your personhood.
Before you were a student, you were a teacher. It also meant watching some of my white
peers be rewarded for their antiracist work, work they may never engage in if it weren’t
for us, while those of us who had organized and led assemblies, gatherings, and group
discussions did not. Because it was expected of us. Our deans and administration valued
diversity, equity, and inclusion. But you know what they valued even more? Having
students of color do that work for them. It is one thing to ask the students what they can
do better, how they can support the students better. It is a completely different thing to
leave it to black and brown adolescents who experience the brunt of anti-blackness and
racism every day to fix and undo over a hundred years of institutionalized prejudice, bias,
and discrimination.
Who do you serve? Who do you protect?
This alumna references being made into a learning experience for her White peers,
theoretically advancing their cultural exposure while her own cultural integrity was diminished
and cultural ways of being mimicked and mocked. As opposed to having one’s race and cultural
markers serve as a source of pride, something families would expect when making a heart
decision, race became a focal point that, as this alumna puts it, “superseded [her] personhood,”
and one might imagine, her status as a student as well. One could argue that when weighing head
versus heart decisions, the head decision is only as valid as the extent to which the student can
function safely in an environment so as to effectively receive the academic benefits of the
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institution in their totality. When the focal point of their institutional existence is race over
personhood, this could prove particularly challenging. The spotlight as a result of one’s racial
identity, combined with the additional burden of educating both fellow students and staff (what
this alumna refers to as “having students of color do [diversity, equity, and inclusion] work for
[the school]”) means an education that is particularly fraught with the burden of educating
others, perhaps at the expense of receiving a high quality, rigorous, elite academic education.
Intentional Violence Enacted against Black Girls in Private Girls’ Schools
The codes most prevalent in the culturally unresponsive category of posts prominently
referenced the institutions’ lack of cultural awareness and sentiments of being an outsider or not
belonging, both of which the aforementioned alumna presented in her Instagram post. Often, it is
the former that leads to the latter; a lack of institutional cultural awareness and responsiveness
leads to Black girls feeling as though they are outsiders or do not belong in their environments.
Another poster undergirds the lack of cultural awareness and responsiveness of the institution:
Once, my friends and I asked our dean, in a lighthearted way, why she would call us out
for things and not call out our fellow white peers. She said she would purposefully target
poc because that’s how the real world is. I saw a post from an alum in the class 2019, and
I was disappointed that this was not just a one time occurrence. Instead of advocating for
us, she was active and purposeful in her behavior to create an unsafe, unfair, and
discriminatory environment.
In addition to facing an environment that students felt was inherently not made for them
(reference a student poster indicating that her institution was catered to those who were “White,
wealthy, privileged, powerful peers”), there is the additional hurdle, according to this poster, of
teachers intentionally making the school environment more difficult for Black students. These
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actions align with research that finds that adults believe Black girls to be capable of carrying
greater burdens than their White peers by viewing them as less innocent and more adult-like
(Epstein et al., 2017).
While one might otherwise assume that private schools are culturally unresponsive
because of the ignorance of students, teachers, and staff and their inability to recognize their lack
of cultural awareness and the subsequent harm caused to minoritized students, there is an
additional factor of consideration offered by this post- that some of this harm against Black
students is actually intentional. This stance is a step further from a lack of cultural awareness or
responsiveness to intentional racial violence enacted against Black students. Further, it is
purportedly enacted by those whose responsibility it is to inspire, enlighten, and enhance Black
girls’ educational trajectories.
Such violence has the potential to harm Black girls. While it is critical that all students
have their identities affirmed and valued, girls in the adolescent and teen years crave belonging.
They generally report a higher sense of belonging to peer groups than their male counterparts
(Newman et al., 2007). Girls’ schooling environments make claims to recognize this specific
need and nurture spaces that allow for such belonging and, in tandem, confidence and
empowerment (The Brearley School, 2016; The Chapin School, n.d.). For Black girls who are in
the minority in their environments, the need to belong is heightened as a result of the added layer
of racial and, in some cases, socioeconomic differences. As such, the impacts of culturally
unresponsive and violent environments have a disproportionate, particularly virulent impact on
Black girls, especially as they exist in schools that attest to provide spaces of belonging for their
White peers in ways that they are seemingly unable to offer them. Providing this sense of
belonging for Black girls is where predominantly White private girls’ schools fall short.
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Failure to Hold White Students and Faculty Accountable for Racist Harm
Other prevalent codes under the thematic umbrella of culturally unresponsive posts
included failure to hold White students and faculty accountable, curricular trauma or culturally
unresponsive curriculum or classes, and Black students explaining racism or cultural contexts. Of
note among these codes is the failure to hold White students and faculty accountable after
causing racist harm. These posts provide greater insight into the experiences of Black girls in
private girls’ schools, indicating that the environment is culturally unresponsive and intentionally
racially violent and that White students and staff causing this harm are permitted to do so without
recourse. One student detailed her experience in the following Instagram post:
In the fourth grade, I had a “friend” and one day I think I made her mad, so she yelled at
me and called me an “ugly black n***** mole”. At the time, I vaguely knew what that
word meant, and I got really angry. I wasn’t yelling loudly, but I raised my voice a little
bit. She started to cry, and we both got sent to the office. [The teacher] made me
apologize to her for ‘making her feel threatened’, glossing over the fact that a white girl
had called me the n- word.
Indeed, this post indicates that White students are, in some cases, emboldened in their racist
actions with the support of their teachers. Black students are then left existing in environments
that are harmful to their cultural identities and wherein they know they do not have protection.
But it is not just that teachers do not protect Black girls; this commitment to allowing Black girls
to suffer in these environments extends to the level of administration as well, as recounted by
another Black girl’s post:
In 2016, when cultural appropriation was starting to become a larger subject of debate, a
few of my black classmates and I confided in an upper school administrator about our
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frustrations after watching our white peers appropriate black culture. This administrator
rolled her eyes at us, scoffed and said, “This is why white people didn’t let black people
read books during slavery.” I’m still in awe at the absolute ignorance of such a statement
in a majority white and immensely affluent school.
These posts indicate that at many levels of private girls’ schooling - from peers to teachers to
administration - Black girls are targeted. The impact on their psychological state, and therefore
their ability to effectively learn in their schools, is profound (Hammond, 2014). It is no surprise,
then, that some alumnae of these institutions refer to themselves as “survivors” of their schools
in their Instagram posts.
Discussion of the Second Most Prevalent “Black At” Post Theme: Racist and Culturally
Insensitive Actions Against Black Girls in Predominantly White Private Girls’ Schools
Secondarily, 33% of the Instagram posts assessed referred to racist or culturally
insensitive actions, as taken by faculty, peers, or parents while Black girls attended private
schools. The most prevalent codes in this category referenced students experiencing
microaggressions, followed by students being targeted or ostracized. One poster recalled her
experiences of being targeted and ostracized:
When I was in the 8th grade my parents were called into a meeting at school. My mother
left work early and drove to Manhattan to be informed that I was speaking up too much
in class. Raising my hand was “intimidating” my classmates. I was told that I needed to
choose if I wanted to have friends or be smart.
The teacher’s preference was for this student to shrink herself and remain silent
(Fordham, 1993). This post reveals that even in cases where Black girls thrive academically
despite culturally unresponsive environments, academic success does not always come without
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consequence. While the curriculum itself may be marketed as rigorous (and many students would
agree that the institutions are academic powerhouses in the traditional sense, ranking among the
top 10 schools in New York City), racism again plays a role in the extent to which Black students
can excel with this curriculum (Niche, 2024). This poster’s experience suggests that Black
students’ ability to excel in these environments is limited to the degree to which it causes their
White peers discomfort.
Such a fear-based racial ideology harkens back to the Jim Crow and Civil Rights Era in
the United States when Black people’s success depended on White comfort. From the Tulsa Race
Massacre (the fiery demise of Black financial success by angry White mobs) to literacy tests to
prevent Black citizens from full access to democracy via voting rights, White targeting of Black
excellence is not a new phenomenon. Though private schools are independent entities and the
historical events described were systematic approaches to disenfranchisement, schools have
historically mirrored the cultural contexts of society they inhabit (Jacobs, 2016). Today, the
likelihood that White students will enroll in private schools increases as the population of Black
students in their area does- suggesting the same racist patterns of the past inform how private
schools are populated today (Li, 2009).
Black Girls Blame Themselves for Adverse Racial Outcomes in Private Schools
Despite both present-day disenfranchisement and historic systematized racism in the
United States, Black students are at risk of blaming themselves for their adverse racial outcomes
in private schools. One poster recounted her experience with microaggressions at her institution:
I was at [my school] for lower and part of middle school in the 1990s - it was an
overwhelmingly white institution. I was mocked by some classmates for the size of my
lips and the “strange/exotic” foods I brought to school. I was made aware that I was a
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“scholarship kid” and I often felt “less than” - my presence at [my school] was
contingent: I had to earn my keep. I was a [girls’ school] girl with an asterisk.
My mother was treated with dismissal and disdain by many other mothers and staff. For
years since, I have wondered if it was socioeconomic discrimination, or racial, or both. In
more anxiety-induced recollections I have blamed myself: if only my small talk skills
were better developed I could have “passed” more successfully; why didn’t I smile more?
these are absurd and inappropriate thoughts to have in the context of a small child.
This post again exemplifies the duality of impacts for Black girls- along both racial and gender
lines. Given all girls’ intense desire to fit in as adolescents (Newman et al., 2007) and the
ostracism Black students face as a result of their race, it is not surprising that being rejected
along both of these lines of identity, in addition to a third identity layer of socioeconomic status
for some, would leave Black girls feeling especially vulnerable and as though they are to blame
for their adverse circumstances. Without a culturally responsive environment that affirms Black
girls and reminds them that they are not to blame for the outcomes they face, they are a
particularly vulnerable population.
Support Systems for Black Girls
There were some cases, nonetheless, where Black girls found systems of support at their
private schools from Black women teachers. Another poster described her experience finding
support and safety with a Black woman teacher and being targeted and ostracized at her
institution as a result:
Throughout my entire career at [my school] I sought out the few BIPOC faculty and staff
I could find to be my safe space. Once I got to Upper School that safe space became [a
BIPOC teacher]. I’ll never forget the kindness she showed me and my friends. She was
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essentially my school mom. I had a permanent spot in her office and that bothered some
faculty including the head of upper school to the point where they tried to ban my friends
and I from sitting in her office. They tried to take away our only safe space. I wish that all
BIPOC could feel comfortable and safe at [my school] without having to find out safe
spaces... Unfortunately that’s not the case and those safe spaces are often snatched away
from us.
The type of support this poster described has been referred to as othermothering (Collins, 1990).
It is a practice among Black women to assist in the rearing and guidance of other women’s
children to whom they are not related by blood. It offers moral training, guidance, education, and
care. Othermothering has held strong as a core tradition in the African American community
since times of enslavement, where these communities of care proved critical for both survival
and character development (Hirt et al., 2008). The practice has had implications for generations,
with a study of urban elementary schools finding that othermothering was a survival mechanism
for students, undergirding the transference of both educational information and cultural contexts
(Case, 1997). The attempt to dismantle these supportive relationships, then, is again stripping
away at the cultural fabric of support that is critical for Black students to succeed in
predominantly White environments.
Black Educators as Perpetrators of Anti-Blackness
While the criticisms of predominantly White private schools have thus far been largely
targeted at the actions of White students and teachers, in some cases, teachers of the same race
did not provide an othermothering level of support but instead perpetuated systems of harm
against Black students as well. An alumna recounted her experience of being targeted at a young
age by a Black teacher who believed that this approach was supporting the student:
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In the early 2000s my Black second grade teacher… called my mother’s house after work
asking her to explain to me that I can’t act up in class because me acting up isn’t the same
as wealthy white kids acting up. My mom responded that she would not put the weight of
the world on her eight-year-old and asked her to never call her house again.
In these cases, Black educators upheld the same systems of White supremacy and violence that
have caused students, and likely themselves, harm. This is a practice of assimilation that results
from years of becoming acclimated to behaving in a way that one believes will make them less
threatening in White environments. In this case, the Black teacher was passing this ideology
down to her Black students. The parent did not ascribe to this means of existing as a form of
safety and refused to agree to advise her child in this way.
Further evidence of the culturally unresponsive nature of private girls’ schools and the
presence of racist or culturally insensitive actions can be found in Table 3, as detailed via the
Instagram posts examined.
Table 3
Theme 1: Culturally Unresponsive Environment Example Posts
Code Example post
Lack of cultural
awareness or
responsiveness
Post A: I’ve had some dark times in my life, but the three years I
spent at [my school] for middle school were some of the darkest.
The racism ingrained in the culture there - the teachers, the
administration, the students, the curriculum - was a big part of it,
and there was also a lot of other stuff: entitlement. contempt,
bullying. If you aren’t white old money, every single part of [the
school] does everything it can to drive you out.
I really hope people can understand this: that even if Black people
can gain entry to a white space, the hostility we encounter there is
damaging. I spent most of 6th grade completely isolated because
my classmates barely spoke to me, struggling with a rigorous
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Code Example post
curriculum for which I was given inadequate support. I cried at
home a lot.
I was completely shell-shocked. I’d been so excited to go there. [The
school] is prestigious and beautiful…. If you make it all the way
through, any college or university you want is yours. It was like a
fantasy. Of course when I toured it they got one of my few black
future classmates to guide me. And once I was actually part of the
student body, I felt so wholly unwelcome.
Diversity, however meager or vigorous, is not the same as inclusion
or anti-racism. What an overwhelmingly unmanageable, miserable
time. Without a black friend I made in 7th grade, I really might not
have survived it. I hope [the school] staff and students and parents,
past, present and future, will make something out of this instead of
shrugging it off.
Post B: [My teacher] once told me that Muslim students who wore
hijabs before starting [at the school] stopped because it helps them
acclimate to the school. I replied, stating the importance of hijabs to
their cultures. He responded saying how well I “fit in” since I’m
passing, and that not all kids have that luxury. So, not only was his
statement pro-whitewashing, but his ideal version of me is white.
Sentiment of being an
outsider or not
belonging
Post A: “The workers can set all of the food over there.” It was my
fourth year at [my school], and my father and I had just entered the
schoolhouse with a box of chips as a donation for the school fair.
[An employee], a [school] alumna and the (former) Director of
Facilities, confidently greeted us and pointed my father to where
the other workers were.
‘Actually, I am a [school] parent,’ my father replied. [The employee]
scoffed and walked away. In this brief moment, my world had
burst. It was the first time that I felt like an outsider in the school
that I held so dear.
Maybe I was naive at 16. Was it his skin color or the way he held the
box of chips? How could she assume that he was a worker while I
was standing right beside him wearing a [school] shirt? There were
only [x number of] girls between Kindergarten and 12th grade -
was anyone who looked different from the majority of the white
female students considered an outsider?
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Code Example post
Post B: “[My school] broke me and then forced me to figure out how
to rebuild myself with added armor. I came into [my school] at 5
years old and was one of 3 black girls. I was absolutely confident,
outgoing, outspoken, excited to learn and to make new friends. I’d
never seen so many white people before but all 5 year olds love to
play. I was so sure we’d meet each other halfway. I soon realized
that even though I had been so open minded, not everyone was as
ready to embrace me. By third grade, the white students began to
grasp what their place was in the world. My choices were to
assimilate and lose my individuality, or be an outsider in this
community we were creating. I chose the latter. It became harder
for me to connect with my peers- even those who I was once best
friends with-and I thought I was the problem. I became depressed,
angry, quiet, and cautious. It wasn’t until the sixth grade when new
students raised outside of a [predominantly white girls’ school]-like
community befriended me, that I began to rebuild my trust in others
without fear of rejection.
The reason for my outcast status also became clear. It wasn’t that
there was no room for my personality. There was no place for my
experience as a young Black girl refusing to change: refusing to
walk a mile to meet their inch.”
Failure to hold White
students or faculty
accountable
Post A: In eighth grade I wrote an essay about how police brutality
disproportionately affects Black men because of the assumption
that they are more dangerous. My teacher crossed out my thesis,
which stated the above. She told me that it’s not an assumption, but
a fact that Black men are more dangerous. I came to class early the
next day as I usually did and the teacher detailed how
uncomfortable and unsafe Black people made her feel, and how
Black people are the poorest in the country for a reason. I sat for 10
minutes alone and in shock as she went on and on. I didn’t want to
go to the administration but I did and only received an apology
from [the teacher] because they didn’t see a point in correcting the
teacher since she was retiring that year.
Post B: In eighth grade, several of my white classmates made a
“blackness scale” comparing the black students within the grades.
The scale went from the blackest of us to the whitest of us. It was
dehumanizing and invalidating. It made me feel as if I was only
being seen as a color, as if being “too Black” was something
negative, and as if being seen as the “whitest” was supposed to be
some kind of compliment. This type of behavior continued
throughout my [school] experience, exposing how the lack of
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Code Example post
action in educating the white students allows them to remain
ignorant and inflict pain on their Black classmates. Even after
speaking to the administration about several of the many similar
instances of racism, nothing was done. Why are the Black students
the ones who always have to educate their white peers?
Curricular trauma or
culturally
unresponsive
curriculum or class
Post A: “When I entered [my school] for lower school in the late 80’s
I could count the students of color on one hand. They made me
have an after school tutor. Not for math, or french- but to learn
american colloquialisms like, piece of cake. I was born in NY.
Also- everyone assumed I was related to another brown girl who
was a very high profile billionaire’s daughter.”
Post B: “We played the ‘slave game’ in middle school which was an
online game where we had to escape the plantation and if we didn’t
make it, it was back into the chains for us. We had to play until we
escaped the plantation and they forced us to play it.”
Black students
explaining racism or
cultural contexts
Post A: “I was in class and the topic or the n-word had come up. Our
teacher was explaining how the word was derogatory and it wasn’t
appropriate for anyone out of the Black community to say it,
considering the history behind it. She gave the class time to discuss
the word. I was one of only two black girls in my class. A white
girl, who I had considered my friend, turned to me and asked me if
I would be offended if she said the n-word.
I genuinely thought she was joking because I couldn’t actually
believe she would say that. I wanted to say, “Absolutely not! How
could you possibly think that’s okay?!” But in fear of singling
myself out, or portraying myself as aggressive, I had to dance
around what I actually wanted to say. Instead of saying no, I gave
her an example of why it was not acceptable to use a word
reclaimed by a marginalized group she wasn’t a part of, just to be
understood.
My teacher then had me share my analogy with the entire class. I was
so embarrassed. Even after I explained to her twice, she proceeded
to tell me, ‘You know, I would say it if it was in a quote and I had
to show how extreme it was. But I wouldn’t be, like, comfortable.’
I couldn’t believe that I had actually heard that. I was so mad at
myself for not being direct, but I was equally mad that it became
my job to teach her.
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Code Example post
Black kids are CONSTANTLY educating other kids because no one
takes the initiative to teach them. There was no reason that I had to
explain to her that it was offensive to say a slur. I’ve never asked
anyone if I can say a slur before.
I was embarrassed and upset for the entire day and she wasn’t
embarrassed for a second. This was supposed to be a learning
experience for her. It was supposed to be an opportunity for her to
grow and analyze her actions. But it wasn’t. She came back the
next day and made an uncomfortable comment on my hair.”
Post B: “In 8th grade, I had algebra with [my teacher]. I had a hard
time following her lessons and would constantly make minor
mistakes that lead to me getting the entire problem wrong. [My
teacher] was always extremely annoyed whenever I asked a
question. She would respond with things like “I’m not going to
slow everyone down because you don’t get it” or scoff and not
answer at all. Conversely, she made a point to be best friends with
the preppier (and mostly white) kids while myself and friends (all
black) were aggressively ignored. I explained this problem to my
white classmates and they said they doubted it was happening and
that [the teacher] was really cool. We decided to put it to the test. l
asked that for the next week they pay specific attention to how [the
teacher] responds to me asking a question and when it inevitably
isn’t answered, when one of the white kids repeats the question to
see what happens. I was insulted and dismissed every time and she
happily answered them repeating my question, every time.”
Post C: “During my sophomore year, in history class, the teacher said
that the reason why your (addressing the entire class) parents won’t
let you go past 96th street and why [our school] is on ## street (at
that time there were no developments past 96th street so it meant
Harlem) is because your parents don’t want you mixing with
“polluted blood.” I was very upset by this and confronted the
teacher after class who didn’t think that her words were hurtful.”
Table 4
Theme 2: Racist Actions Toward Black Students Example Posts
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Code Example post
Microaggressions or
macro-aggressions
Post A: “We were all cleaning tables after lab. The class teacher was
a controversial one at [the school], but someone who personally I
didn’t mind. The teacher was talking in another part of the room
about her home out in Long Island. I was the only black student in
the class, not a new phenomena for me at [school]. As we were
wiping down tables post-lab she calls out, “[my name], you’re
great at wiping down tables! I’d have you clean at my Long Island
house” and laughed.
It was meant to be a joke, something light. What she didn’t get was
that for me it wasn’t just a joke. I felt so uncomfortable, she was
not only my teacher but my class supervisor, and I had no one to
even look to in that moment who I thought could understand. Her
joke just reminded me that I was black and alone in that classroomand despite my best efforts as a student, I could in a second be
reduced to how well I cleaned.”
Post B: “In my senior year [the school] announced that the incoming
Kindergarten class would be 48% students of color. At lunch my
friends and I were discussing how shocking and exciting this news
was, when one of my white classmates interjected with ‘That’s
great, but I hope these kids are qualified’. She had the audacity to
say this in front of me and my black friend, knowing full well that
we both had been admitted in Kindergarten just like her. Neither
one of us said anything. Another friend who was horrified by the
exchange asked her ‘what do you mean by that?’ And she
continued to say Theard that they did something similar at this one
school in California, and when they looked into it they found that
none of those kids were qualified’. In that moment I found myself
wondering if all my peers who I had gone to school with for 13
years, secretly thought I didn’t deserve to be there. I was enraged
that she felt no shame at all saying this to the faces of the only
black survivors. I achieved so many amazing things my last year of
highschool and yet, 7 years later whenever I think of my senior
year at [school], this is still the first memory that comes to mind.”
Targeting or
ostracizing
Post A: “When I came to the school in 8th grade, I had to be fitted for
a skirt. The lady doing the fitting kept insisting that I should get my
skirt a little shorter despite my mother making it clear that she was
firm on the length. My skirt ended up being one inch above my
knee. It is concerning looking back on it that breaking the rules
was encouraged yet as a dark skinned black girl I would be
targeted disproportionately for any infraction.
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Code Example post
Not everyone can afford to get a new skirt. Many times the skirts at
the skirt exchange were too short. It was commonplace to be
punished for skirt length to an extreme degree as a POC. It’s
disgusting that it’s systematic. There is also the desire to have short
skirts like the white students who rarely get penalized.
It’s all just so messed up. I really wish [the school’s] teachers would
evaluate why they find it necessary to police our bodies. Maybe
have your creepy teachers stop looking up our pants when we are
on the staircase rather than punishing us for existing.”
Post B: “In 10th grade after returning home from a school trip to
Washington DC. I got a phone call from a friend who said that
there were rumors that I and 4 other girls had smoked weed on that
school trip. All 5 of us were interviewed the following week
separately although I denied any and all allegations I guess one of
the 4 girls had broke down and pinned everything on me. I was the
only black girl in the group and I was the only one to get expelled.
The other 4 girls were suspended for the rest of the school year and
would need to reapply. Only 1 girl out of those 4 left the school
and didn’t reapply in solidarity for what happened to me; She is
still my best friend. Mind you I was never drug tested, caught
smoking, found in possession of drugs but I was expelled based on
hearsay. [The school] still emails me asking for money, the f**king
nerve.”
Post C: “In middle school, like many students, I struggled with
handling the increased responsibility that came with being in a
higher grade. I remember being in [my teacher’s] english class, and
one day I forgot my book for the class in my locker. When I asked
if I could go retrieve it, [the teacher] stopped the whole class,
pulled me into the hallway, and sat me down at one of the small
table.
She said, ‘You know the stereotype about black people right?’ I was
confused and unable to gather a response. Seeing this, she said
something along the lines of, “Black people are known for being
lazy and disorganized. Don’t live up to the stereotype. You need to
do better and always come prepared for class.” I remember feeling
shooook.
I’ve always been terrible with confrontation, but this was the worst
ever. My face and ears were burning hot, and my eyes welled up
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Code Example post
with tears. But, there was no time to feel sorry for myself. I had to
swallow the lump in my throat, walk back into class, and sit there
like nothing had happened.
This is a memory that I pushed to the very back of my mind, and
completely forgot about until I continued to see stories about this
teacher on [this account].”
Minimizing the
impacts of racism
Post A: In 8th or 9th grade, I walked into the school counselor’s office
incredibly distraught and told him I was so unhappy at [my
school] and being there was wearing on me and I felt like I didn't
fit in, was constant being attacked, etc. He referred me to a
therapist. Didn't ask anything about what I was struggling with,
why I felt this way etc.
He didn't try to provide any support. Just said oh, things are tough for
you? Seek therapy. I'm not against therapy in any way, and at the
time I think I felt kind of grateful for him referring me to a
therapist -she was actually great by the way- but the answer to
racism and a hostile school environment is not therapy. There was
no accountability for WHY I felt how I did, how the school could
help, change things, address racism, it was simply, go to therapy.
Now that I remember it, I believe he unofficially diagnosed me with
depression in his office that day. I'm pretty sure he was not
qualified to do that and am just thinking about how heavy it
weighed on me that I was unhappy at [my school] not because I
was black and it was hard to be black at [my school], but because
there was something wrong with me.
Post B: I found that with the head of school, she tries to dominate any
conversation and it's frustrating and has left me feeling unheard.
For example, one time I brought up how white feminism is a real
problem. The head of school responded by saying that it doesn't
exist, quoted Gloria Steinem, and didn't allow me to respond. It
was ironic, to say the least.
Othering based on hair Post A: “I went to [my school] from kindergarten through eighth
grade. I was an excitable, outgoing, and loving kid. I had such
beautiful, thick, healthy hair. In the third grade, whenever we were
in line for the library, the girls would constantly make fun of my
braids and tease me. I didn’t really get what was going on because
I always saw the best in people. I didn’t know that they were being
mean. Almost every day for a year, my mom would pick me up and
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Code Example post
my hair would be a mess. They would tell me to take my hair
pretties out and mess up my hair because it was funny to them...my
mom tried to tell me that these girls were being mean, but I told her
that wasn’t possible. They were my friends, they wouldn’t do that.
They weren’t my friends and they did do that. My hair was never
the same when I got picked up as when I got dropped off.
They constantly asked me questions about why my hair looked the
way it did and touched it and called it weird. I hated that they
thought I was weird and I wanted them to think I was one of them.
So at eight years old, I asked my mom for a perm. I cried and
begged and pleaded for ages. I didn’t like my hair anymore.
Something that I once loved and was an essential part of my
identity, was no longer beautiful. I was no longer beautiful. I was
Black.”
Post B: The other black girl in my class and I were pulled aside and
told by two faculty members to keep our hair straight. It was a
serious meeting. They were looking out for us and warning that we
wouldn’t be taken seriously at [our school] if we didn’t look the
part. I’ve never worn braids again to this day.
Tokenization Post A: A hired photographer chose my lab group (me and three
asian girls) to stage an experiment for a photo - you know why.
The photoshoot conflicted with an important meeting I had. I
reminded [the employee], but she did not care. During this
photoshoot, I was visibly upset about them blatantly tokenizing
me. [Two employees] noticed my anger, but demanded that I smile
for the cameras anyways.
Post B: In 8th grade, in my first few months at [my school], we were
discussing a passage from a reading. My teacher stated
“Here we see our protagonist struggling with their dual identities.
Straddling the fence between two different worlds.” Then she
turned to me and asked, “Would you like to share with us what that
experience has been like for you?” Confused, I just looked back at
her and made a half sound as I struggled to understand what she
wanted from me. She continued, “Well…. it’s just... you live in
brooklyn, right?” “I live in Queens” was my automatic reply. I
continued to look at her until she became visibly uncomfortable
and continued with the lesson. That day, I was called on to be an
“object” for a lesson on “otherness”. A learning tool, not just a
student. I would be called on time and time again to play that role
for the next 5 years.
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Summary of Research Question 1
The first research question sought to understand Black girls’ experiences attending a
predominantly White institution. The data analysis primarily revealed K–12 independent girls’
schools to be culturally unresponsive and perpetrators of harmful racist actions, in some
instances on purpose and without recourse. While the schools may provide academic rigor and a
sense of belonging for many girls, they often fall short of providing this sense of belonging for
Black girls. Further, even when considering the academic rigor of the institutions, for some
students, the possibility of academically excelling is limited given the threat that it might pose
for their White peers. Black girls are then limited both in terms of their cultural validation at the
institution and the extent to which they are supported and encouraged in their academic pursuits.
Feeling pushed against the wall on numerous fronts, Black girls can blame themselves for their
adverse outcomes. They can sometimes find support in Black teachers- particularly those who
are culturally responsive and not seeking to have students align with standards of White
supremacy.
Results of Research Question 2
Research question 2 asked, “How do Black women alumnae of predominantly White
independent girls’ schools describe the experiences of themselves and other Black girls?” This
question focused on findings from the study’s active participants. Interviews (see Appendix A)
found that alumnae’s experiences largely mirrored the sentiments expressed by their peers’
Instagram account posts. The primary insights from their responses, then, were that they spoke to
the nuance and duality of their experiences at these institutions.
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While the Instagram posts were landing pages for the pent-up trauma of Black girls’
experiences at their schools, more in-depth conversations with alumnae revealed the complexity
of existing in a schooling environment that caused great harm but for which many Black girls,
now women, also have great reverence, fond memories, and a sense of pride. The complexities
of this dynamic were not always readily apparent or accessible via the Instagram posts, whose
fundamental nature was to explicitly call out institutions for the harm that they caused, via a
platform whose structure lends itself to short synopses. Interviews, however, allowed for
mirroring the sentiments expressed in the posts with greater context and complications to these
narratives. To more readily grasp the experiences expressed by these alumnae via their
interviews, the following sections speak to the nuance and duality presented across the same
primary thematic experiences revealed via the analysis of “Black at” Instagram account posts:
● Culturally unresponsive environments (including lack of cultural awareness or
responsiveness, sentiments of being an outsider or not belonging, failure to hold White
students or faculty accountable, curricular trauma or culturally unresponsive curriculum
or classes, and Black students explaining racism or cultural contexts)
● Racist or culturally insensitive actions toward Black students (microaggressions or
macroaggressions, targeting or ostracizing, adverse reactions to racism, othering based on
hair, tokenization).
Discussion of Research Question 2
Alumnae described their experiences in predominantly White private schools as both
nuanced and dualistic. The subsequent sections delve into these concepts in greater detail,
beginning with discussions about the various factors of nuance that Black girls navigate while
attending predominantly White schools.
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Covert Perpetuation of Racism in Private Girls’ Schools
Though most interviewees were not surprised by the content presented via “Black at”
accounts, most also indicated that they did not immediately resonate with the explicitly overt
racism expressed. This was not, however, a suggestion that their institutions did not display racist
actions. Instead, they recalled their experiences with racism as more covert. The point of
alignment, then, between the narratives of passive and active study participants was that the
institutions they attended were indeed culturally unresponsive and perpetuated racist or culturally
insensitive actions. When looking across all interviews, alumnae collectively expressed
sentiments that aligned with all codes housed in the culturally unresponsive environment and
racist or culturally insensitive actions themes derived from “Black at” post analysis, including
lack of cultural awareness, sentiments of being an outsider or not belonging, failure to hold
White students or faculty accountable, curricular trauma or culturally unresponsive curriculum or
classes, Black students explaining racism or cultural contexts, micro and macroaggressions,
targeting or ostracizing, minimizing the impacts of racism, othering based on hair and
tokenization. There is, however, an opportunity for greater nuance in how the participants
experienced their institutions’ cultural unresponsiveness and the racist or culturally insensitive
actions within them. Nina described her experience with covert racism at her school:
I can look back and say that there were definitely instances of microaggressions and, like,
weird racial things. But in my experience, they were either covert or very
ignorance-based. … What I mean by that is that my classmates and the people that I came
across, I didn’t find that they were blatantly or intentionally racist. I really didn’t. I just
found that they all grew up in a very small bubble with the same types of people. And, so,
I felt like a lot of the weird experiences I had with them were really just based on a lack
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of understanding or awareness or like knowledge of other races or people of other
socioeconomic statuses, right? It wasn’t always just Black people. Sometimes, it was just
like a lack of awareness to the fact that everyone is not from this upper-class, Upper East
Side bubble. And, so, I think the thing that did surprise me about the Black account was
that it felt like some of the situations were pretty overtly racist and pretty intentionally
racist. And that was not my experience.
Destiny described racism as always present at her institution but not always explicitly
spoken. It was not that Black girls were perpetual targets, she explained, but there was always
something lurking under the surface. Instead, in alignment with sentiments expressed via “Black
at” posts, she indicated that she was most likely to experience covert racism when her White
peers felt threatened:
I think we thought there was trust. I think because until people are in a position where
they feel they are threatened, everything is good. And I think we know it on some level,
but you almost get lulled into a sense of “we’re one big happy whatever.” Even though
we’re not, right, because we’re a group of girls in puberty, so no one is not one big happy
whatever. But I think what we got lulled into was, like, we have issues, but [race is] not
it. That’s not the issue. And [a particular incident] made it very clear that like, yeah, this
is always, this is always an issue. It just wasn’t an issue because [White students] didn’t
feel threatened by our presence. But as far as I’m concerned, if that comes out of your
mouth, it’s because it’s always been there. It’s not a new thought. And it’s not just always
been there in you. This is learned behavior, as far as I’m concerned. Not only do I look at
you sideways, I’m looking at your whole family sideways. Because these conversations
about so-and-so got into [an Ivy League school] and you’re legacy, that’s not just
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happening in your head. That’s happening at the dinner table with the person that is
legacy at the school.
Rosy Retrospection of Student Experiences, AKA Survivor Bias
When considering their tenure holistically, most alumnae expressed positive experiences
with their institutions overall. One alumna, Meredith, cautions that these positive sentiments
could be because of what she refers to as “survivor bias,” a phenomenon she describes as those
who attended their schools for extended periods becoming more accustomed to the institutions’
culturally unresponsive nature. She stated,
I think there’s also kind of, like, a survivor bias of people who stay throughout. … Like
my class, … some came, but, like, a lot of girls left. So, a lot of, you know, that
environment doesn’t work for a lot of people. … Is it the most supportive environment
ever? No, it’s not. And, so, I mean, would I say I survived, really? Like, I kind of got by.
The people who have extremely negative experiences, hopefully, they don’t stay the
whole time. I do know, I mean obviously, some people do stay just because, like, that’s
your school. You’re gonna stay, but … So, that might be a little inaccurate, but I would
hope that if you’re having a horrible time at an institution, you and your parents can find
an institution, and that’s going to be more supportive.
There is psychological research to support the theory Meredith proposed. It is a cognitive bias
phenomenon known as rosy retrospection: when considering situations retroactively, participants
tend to rate experiences more positively than they would have when actually taking part in said
experience (Mitchell et al., 1997; Wirtz et al., 2003).
One can liken this phenomenon to how an adult might view their childhood, painting rosy
pictures of experiences with parents or siblings in an attempt to romanticize. Comparing the rosy
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retrospection to how one views one’s family is an analogy with which Ciara might align, given
that she compared her time at her institution to a familial dynamic. She described her schooling
experience as a family she was born into. However, it was a complicated family and one she
eventually learned to make decisions independently of. She stated,
I’ve heard experiences that were really negative, unfortunately, from some of my Black
peers. And then I’ve also heard experiences that were really positive. And I would say
that mine is kind of in the middle, that I’ve had both. And I’m a realist also, so I can tell
you some of the best times of my life were spent at [my institution], but also some of the
worst times where I just wanted to, like, unfortunately commit suicide. Like that’s how
bad certain times at [my institution] got. So there are some big extremes there. Yeah, and
I equate that to kind of like family, you know, it’s your family, you’re born into it, you’re
raised in it, it informs who you are to a certain extent. At some point, you start making
your own choices and decisions, but at the core of it, you still were informed by this
family your whole life. So, to a certain extent, you’re still a product of that family, even if
you choose to make different decisions. And that’s really how I feel about [my
institution] and my experience.
The latter part of Ciara’s statement illuminates a critical lens through which to view
experiences presented via “Black at” account posts. Black alumnae’s recounts of negative, racist
experiences are not independent of their holistic relationships with their schools. Instead, they
are interwoven aspects of those experiences. They are the result of time spent at institutions in
which Black students discovered not just who the institutions were but recognized themselves as
a part of said institutions, even saw them as family, and then came into deep, sometimes angering
places of understanding about them. In some ways, as those bred of their schools, they were in a
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primary position to critique these places of learning. These critiques are not those of outsiders,
though in many cases, students felt like they were. These critiques, calls to action, and recounts
of trauma are from the students that these very institutions created themselves, much like
families are responsible for having reared their children, for better or for worse.
Radical Racial Transformation: Black Girls Coming into New Understandings About Their
Schools
For those expressing anger via “Black at” accounts, then, while the accounts may have
arisen seemingly overnight, the interviews clarified that the process that led students to their
creation was years in the making. Renee described the process she underwent that led her to a
place of anger toward her institution:
I was doing school tours. I was, like, the face they were putting out in front. I remember
interviewing and them telling me that I spoke really well, or spoke so well, and telling my
mom that, and, like, as she spoke so clearly or whatever it was. And I remember my mom
being angry, and I remember taking it as a compliment. And I feel like that probably was,
like, the beginning of the end because I think in that space, like, you want to make sure
your parents’ investment is good. You wanna make sure [placement programs such as
Prep for Prep] can send more Black kids there [because], like, you’re doing a good job.
But by the time I was an older student, I was angry. I was, like, very angry. … I think the
typical experience is you get there, and for a minute, you’re trying so hard to prove that
the investment someone has made in you, whether it’s … for a [school] scholarship or
your parents for you getting there, was worth it. And you deserve to be there, and you
want to be on your Ps and Qs. And then I think, at some point, you just flip a script. I
don’t know if it’s because you’re older or if you’re just tired, but you’re like, I’m not here
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to prove anything to you. And I think then that’s where the tension starts rising more with
the school because then you do start pushing back and you do start having more difficult
conversations and your classmates stop liking you as much because they think you’re
different or mean or militant or whatever. And I think that’s where people get really,
really close. I think that’s where a bunch of us as Black girls got very, very close. But
that’s also, I think, the turning point where people feel very, very ostracized.
Ciara described a similar period of transition and transformation, where she found her voice and
decided the necessity of speaking up about her experiences:
I truly believe a Black girl’s experience, it really is almost never typical just by nature of
being Black. You either assimilate, and your time could be pretty easy, but you don’t. …
You don’t stand out in any way. You kind of blend into the institution. You don’t object
too much. You don’t cause trouble, and I’m putting that in quotes. Because what does that
mean? I don’t know, but … you can have an experience where it’s the exact opposite.
You’re objecting to everything. You’re pointing out all the flaws of the school. You might
get kind of blacklisted by teachers and students, your peers that way, but you’re, you
know, standing up for what’s right. That’s an experience that I know some friends have.
You can have an experience like mine where, earlier on, I feel like I didn’t really make
waves, and it wasn’t intentional or unintentional. I just, I was just there. And that’s
probably like the ideal situation until I got older, and then I’m realizing, wait, there are
flaws here. I need to say something. I can’t be quiet. And I’ve been here since
kindergarten.
Periods of radical racial transformation were thus pivotal aspects of what it meant for
Black girls to exist in culturally unresponsive private girls’ schools. These transformations were
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often rooted in their realizations about the institutions that they trusted and called home for many
years. For some students, it was a realization that they needed to speak up more. For other
students, it was a time of incredible anger. In any case, navigating these transformations proved
challenging for Black girls.
Cross (1991, 1995) described this period of radical transformation as part of his Black
American racial identity model. It is most similar to the period Cross referred to as the encounter
stage, when an occurrence, or a series of occurrences, requires children or teens to acknowledge
the role of racism in their lives. They, as a result, focus more deeply on their identities and the
extent to which racism impacted them (Cross, 1991, 1995). They subsequently enter a stage
referred to as immersion/emersion in which they seek greater opportunities to be immersed in
their own culture and more intentionally surround themselves with members of their own
identity group. They eventually develop a strong sense of their own identities, build deeper
relationships with other marginalized groups, and determine how they plan to push back against
racism (Cross, 1991, 1995).
Though periods of racial transformation proved challenging, the interviewees indicated
that they were not completely without support in their institutions. As they navigated through the
encounter and immersion/emersion phases, there were supporters, whether Black women and
girls or faculty and staff, who uplifted them along the way.
A Dualistic Experience for Black Girls: Girls’ Schools as Simultaneous Sites of Racial
Harm and Gender-based Empowerment
In addition to navigating varying levels of nuance in their predominantly White schools,
duality arises when considering the periods of racial transformation that the participants
underwent while at private girls’ schools. These transformations were realizations of their
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schools’ culturally unresponsive nature. At the same time, alumnae came into deeper, more true
versions of understanding their racial and gender identities as a result of supportive relationships
with fellow Black students, teachers, and staff and because of the institution’s general focus on
women’s empowerment. The school was, therefore, simultaneously a site of trauma and healing.
Ciara described this duality in more detail, noting what it was like to navigate such pluralism in a
girls’ school environment:
I think that in an all-girls school, you’re taught to be … comfortable and confident in who
you are. You’re taught you can do anything. You can be anything you want to be. I think
that’s something really powerful about independent girls’ schools in general. But as a
Black girl, sometimes you notice that there are limitations put on you that are not put on
everyone else. Sometimes, those limitations are unspoken, like unspoken rules and
regulations for you. Because of your background and your skin color, or your class,
which is so often tied to being Black, especially in America, class and race are superglue.
So, you’re taught, like, okay, I can be confident, and I’m going to raise my hand in math
class, and I can be an excellent scientist. But then, when push comes to shove, you’re
seeing that opportunities for you, the opportunities you’re presented with as a Black girl,
may be different than the opportunities your White peers or Asian peers are presented
with. And that’s really tough because it completely conflicts with what you’ve been
taught most of your education at these schools. … Those are the unspoken things that you
have to wrestle with, and it’s really frustrating. So, it is unique.
Destiny emphasized Ciara’s sentiment, further highlighting this dualistic nature by expanding on
the ways that girls’ schools, in particular, are spaces of women’s empowerment despite racial
components that prove challenging:
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I think being surrounded by women helped me, I don’t want to say find my voice. I’ve
always been opinionated but helped me solidify my voice no matter what room I’m in.
And I think, you know, maybe it’s stereotypical, but I do think it’s true to a certain extent.
Girls in high school who are in co-ed environments have other things that they are
thinking about. It is a fact, you know what I mean? I never really had to think about, like,
on my way to school at least, like, am I going to put on makeup today? ... I didn’t have to
think about that in terms of an aesthetic at school. And, in the classroom, I was never
thinking, oh, I don’t want to seem smarter than this guy that I like. And that sounds like
very Freddie Prinze, Jr., 1990s movie. But I think it’s also very true that women have
been trained, whether on purpose or inadvertently by society, to make themselves small
in the presence of men, and not having the presence of men allowed me to just be myself
so that now 20, 30 years later when I am in the presence of men that voice is very
solidified. I don’t care what room I’m in. I feel confident in my opinion, and I was going
to say courageous enough to say it, but it doesn’t feel like courage because it comes
naturally.
The confidence that one could otherwise believe was completely stripped away from
Black girls attending predominantly White private girls’ schools due to the culturally
unresponsive nature of these institutions did not actually miss Black girls entirely, as could be the
narrative painted by “Black at” accounts, given the purpose of the accounts and experiences
posted via a platform that does not always lend itself to greater nuance. While they were
burdened with an unfair tension of both feeling emboldened along gender lines and limited along
racial lines, alumnae expanded the narrative by indicating the benefits they received from their
schools. These benefits included obtaining a lasting sense of women’s empowerment, which is
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on par with what girls’ schooling environments indicate that they provide for all of their students.
So, while empowerment for Black girls seems to come at a cost, it does, in some instances,
indeed come.
Black Girl Friendships as Sites of both Healing and Necessity
It was also the friendships students formed in these environments that helped to
strengthen this sense of empowerment, likely compensating for what the institution lacked in
terms of cultural affirmation. They were a landing space for Black girls to feel seen, heard, and
valued across the intersectional layers of their identities, allowing them to more readily access
the gender empowerment components of the institution by providing racial visibility and
empowerment. Indeed, it was often race that served as the impetus for these friendships, as
Renee espoused,
The White women that I was closest to, we didn’t really discuss race at all. The Black
women or Black girls that I was close to, that was our world. So, we really bonded over
that as well because we were having similar lived experiences.
Ciara expanded more on the importance of the space to speak freely that was inherent in these
friendships with other Black girls, providing a sense of security:
[When Black students came from the placement program], for the first time since my
entrance in kindergarten, I saw a large group or a larger group of girls that reminded me
of myself that looked like me and or just had similar experiences to me. So, I was no
longer one of the only two or three girls coming in or maybe like five girls coming in
from the outer boroughs or New Jersey to come to [school] and learn every day and then
to go back home on the train or a bus or drive in a car for an hour. So, all of a sudden, I
had other people that I could commiserate with and could understand something about
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me without me having to explain too deeply what I meant. And, so, at that moment, I
think that was it.
She indicated the importance of sisterhoods that emerged via Black student clubs:
I think, just the moments of meeting in [the Black student club], which is like the African
American and Black group. … It’s like just a resource group for students. … And I think
the most memorable memories are, anytime I got to interact with older students, and they
were just giving me advice about life, school, homework. Those are the times that are
really invaluable for me because they took the time to kind of sit down with me and
explain things to me like a big sister. And I feel like, to this day, I consider a lot of them
to be like big sisters. Yeah, and I can’t replicate that. It’s just like, it was just free-flowing.
It just kind of happened. And that was really nice because it wasn’t forced. It was
organic. That’s the word I’m looking for. So, those organic times spent together, learning
from each other or having kind of mentorship was really, really great.
Lindsay-Dennis et al. (2011) described culturally relevant mentorship as important in
improving Black girls’ outcomes. All aspects described for ensuring successful mentorship were
present in the organic mentorship that Ciara and other alumnae indicated as part of their
schooling experiences. First, Lindsay-Dennis et al. (2011) indicated that in a successful,
culturally responsive mentorship relationship for Black girls, there must be an awareness of the
pervasive problems Black girls face. Being peers navigating the same environments, this
understanding came naturally to the students attending private girls’ schools. Next, there is a
need for mentors to have a personal investment in the relationship. Given that these were not
formal structures but an intentional, voluntary effort by older Black girls to ensure younger Black
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girls got what they needed, there is evidence of personal investment in younger Black students’
success.
Next, Lindsay-Dennis et al. (2011) indicated that shared lived experiences are critical and
a natural outcome of attending the same type of school with the same racial and gender
identities. However, multiple interviewees indicated that Black girls of higher socioeconomic
status had markedly different experiences at their schools than Black girls of lower
socioeconomic status. The authors noted the importance of sister-friend or othermother
relationships for students. In these cases, older Black students were viewed as sisters, listening,
offering advice, and serving as role models. Finally, Lindsay-Dennis et al. cited the vitality of
developing a collective voice, which is when the group forms bonds that help to develop shared
values. While there is no immediate evidence that this dynamic was present in the Black student
club Ciara described or that of other clubs participants described, Nina did speak to the extent to
which there was generally a shared understanding among Black students that befriending and
aligning with one another was going to be necessary for their success in their schooling
environments:
Part of the way that I navigated that whole space was by aligning myself with Black girls.
… My whole group of friends in my year were Black girls in the classes above me and
below me. … A lot of it was through my participation in [Black students’ club]… I
remember this one racial incident where it seemed like a Black girl was in trouble, and
[we all supported her]. … There was so few of us that if you see this person looked like
they’re in trouble, and we were all like, oh no, like what’s happening? We just had her
back automatically. … We didn’t ask any questions. Nobody knew what was going on. It
was just like, this person’s angry, and I see that there’s a situation, and so, I need to be
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involved because we just kind of like need to stick together. … Like, we always need to
have each other’s back and stick together. … I felt like making friends at that school was
more about finding people that you’re aligned with so that you have a better chance of
surviving versus finding the people that you have the most in common with. Because one
of the other black girls in my little squad. … We always used to bump heads. … We hung
out, we were friends, but we … always used to bump heads, and we would always say
jokingly, but like we were dead serious. We were, like, if we were in public school, we
probably wouldn’t be friends. Because we were so different. But, within that context, we
were so alike and our experiences were so alike that it felt like we had a lot in common,
even though we really didn’t.
Intra-racial peer camaraderie, friendship, and values-alignment were thus critical factors for
Black girls’ success in their institutions, perhaps even necessary for their ability to survive and
thrive in their environments via racial support and validation.
Additional Systems of Support for Black Girls
While it was Black girls who stuck together out of necessity to one another, Destiny
described a sense of solidarity among various races of students of color at the institution.
Building on previously noted sentiments that racism often bubbled to the surface when there
were threats to what was deemed the natural racial pecking order, she recalled a particularly
hairy situation related to college admissions.
Early decision was a horror show for us. … I remember, essentially, we had to have a
lemon squeezer of sorts among the grade just because the tension was palpable between
girls who, prior to the college admissions, didn’t seem to harbor these thoughts or
feelings, but during college admissions, were like, oh, you only got in because of
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Affirmative Action or, like, oh, how did you not get in? Or, like, how did she not get in
early decision? Like, four generations have gone to XYZ school, but you got in. It has to
be because of XYZ. And so very, very clear during that time was that everything’s fine as
long as I’m where I expect to be as compared to you. … We are friends until I feel like
my place in this world has been threatened by your existence. … Now, these fears come
out in the form of animosity. And I, you know, … in hindsight, that’s how the world
works. Everything’s good until I’m threatened. And yeah, and that was very, very much
the case that year. … It was actually one girl who said about my [non-Black minority]
friend, like, you only got into [Ivy League school] because of XYZ. And people were, I
think, up in arms. It didn’t help that this girl wasn’t particularly popular. I know that
sounds childish now, but in all-girl school and high school, popularity is a very real thing.
… And when she said that, it was actually a [non-Black minority] … girl at the time who
came to her defense like, excuse my language, … but like, are you f**king kidding me?
Like, she does this. … Her grades are better than yours, this or the other. And so that was,
I think that’s something that if you ask anyone in my class, they remember.
Destiny further described comforting her non-Black friend after this incident, thus showing that
there were mutual systems of support and solidarity between students of various races to allow
for more effective navigation of their schools as a result of shared experiences of discriminatory
and racist actions.
It was not only in student-to-student relationships that Black students found solidarity and
support. Faculty and staff also provided support. Renee described particularly meaningful
relationships with Black staff members who played othermother roles (Collins, 1990) for
students.
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I will say there were some good things about being black. All the kitchen staff was Black,
so I skipped the line, and they [would] feed me first. They would always talk to me. The
guy who was, like, baking in the kitchen, … he would always let us know like, hey, hot
[food] coming out. … And, so like, we’d get the food first. He was [Caribbean]. … The
kitchen staff after school … would let us go in the back and pick our snacks. … And at
the time, I think they were probably proud of us. I don’t think that, like, I don’t think that
they were not proud of us. … But, like, I do know we called them by their first names.
And as an adult now, I’m like, I don’t want no child calling me by my first name. Like,
that is not it. I do know my school has … changed the policy at this point. But, yeah,
everybody I know, like, I called one woman [by a very casual name], and I’m like … first
of all, [that is] probably not your biological name. It’s probably a street name that your
friends called you, that your adult peers call you. And I, as a seventh grader, I’m like,
[Miss], can you press six? Because she was the elevator operator. By contrast, [she]
would take me to whatever floor I wanted to go to. And we would talk very candidly. …
So, there were a lot of things where I think my classmates saw Black people in roles
where we were like serving, and I did, too, but it was also like a level of comfort because,
like, I’d hear a West Indian accent at school and, like, knew what they were saying and
they’d be talking about somebody, and I’d be like, these people dead wrong, but like, I
could enjoy that. And so, like, everything that was academic and like what [my school] is
known for was based all around White people and their presence, and everything that was
holding the school together was based off of the backs of people that look like me. And I
think I was just very aware of that.
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This recount makes clear the duality of both a sense of pride in seeing one’s culture represented
and the realization that that culture was largely represented only at a certain level in the
institution: the service level. Another alumna did, however, recount an instance with a Black
faculty member charged with doing diversity, equity, and inclusion work, who made her
particularly proud and reminded her of what it meant to stay true to oneself and one’s racial
values at all costs. Nina recalled,
When I was there, they actually hired this woman. And she was the advisor to … our
Black students group, and they also hired her as, like, a guidance counselor slash, like, I
forget the title, but it was like a diversity and equity counselor or something like that.
And I would say, like, she, for a portion of my time in high school there, she was like a
saving grace to me because I still would spend hours in her office just talking to her. And
she … was really supportive of me. It was a really strong resource for me. … I remember,
specifically that at one point, she renounced her title as diversity and equity, like, advisor.
And I remember all the Black students were like, you know, why would she do that?
Like, you know, we need her to be that. And we had a really strong relationship. So, I
went, and I asked her. I was like, well, why did you do that? And she was like, I don’t
want to be a person who is a token representation of something that’s not actually, like,
happening here. … I’ve been given a title, but I haven’t been given any power or
resources to actually effectuate change. And, so, I’m not going to be here and have this
title so that [the institution] can say, we have this person when they really don’t, right?
It’s just this open title. And I never forget that because, you know, I appreciated that she
took that stand. Like, that was her basically saying like, you know, don’t play these
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games. … You’re pretending that … you’re doing something and you’re not, and I’m not
gonna be the person that allows you to keep pretending.
It was these complex systems of support, then, be it via friendships or mentorship from other
Black girls, interracial peer friendships, or Black faculty and staff support, that helped Black
students form webs of support and thus resilience in spite of their environments.
Black Girls’ Resilience as Life-Long Adaptability
When reflecting on their experiences in totality, Black alumnae indicate that their
required resilience led to an adaptability that has served them well in other spaces:
I also do think my race informed my experience in terms of being able to relate to all
different types of students and people because I kind of had been forced to from a young
age. I was never the majority [and] always a minority in a lot of ways. So that made me
have to adapt … to a whole bunch of different types of situations and experiences. I can
be in a room full of any type of person and talk to them because I’ve always had to do
that. I never had the option of being uncomfortable and not having to do anything about
it. You know, I’ve always been forced to have to speak or make a change or do something
outside of my comfort zone because I was never the majority. And now I see that as a
positive. I don’t know if I’ve always thought of it as such, but I absolutely think it’s made
me a stronger person. And, for that reason, I always want my institution really to be more
diverse because I think other students of other races and ethnicities and backgrounds can
really benefit from having to be in an environment where people look totally different
than them or have totally different beliefs. And they have to be forced to be outside of
their comfort zone. If everyone is just like a reflection of you or a sounding board of
view, then that doesn’t really help you to grow or learn.
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Nina seconded this sentiment:
I think learning how to adapt in that situation has helped me be overall adaptable. …
When you have to learn to fend for yourself and adapt at 12, 13, it’s, like, for the rest of
your life you can do that. You could just go into any room and figure out how to navigate
it, and so yeah, that’s what will, you know, get you through [being at a private girls’
school], not trying to fit in.
Ciara and Nina spoke to how diverse environments help prepare one for the real world. However,
diversity also tends to come at a cost that is greater for some students than others. While former
students look back at their time in the institution with a positive vantage point on what racially
diverse environments did for them, they also indicate that this adaptability was required of them
in ways that it was not of their peers, speaking to the additional burden placed on Black students.
While White students may have the opportunity to opt into the extent to which they value and
embrace diversity, this is always a staunch reality for Black students.
Summary of Research Question 2
While research question 1 was answered using the analysis of “Black at” Instagram posts
to better understand Black girls’ experiences at their schools, research question 2 was answered
using interviews to understand alumnae’s retrospective analysis of their experiences at the same
institutions. Analysis of the interviews found that experiences recounted via “Black at” account
posts complemented the experiences the interviewees described. There was a through-line of
lack of cultural responsiveness and racist actions. The interviews further provided greater nuance
and context to the experiences espoused via the accounts.
To that end, when considering their experiences at their schools overall, alumnae recalled
largely enjoying their time, though this may be due to what one student refers to as “survivor
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bias” or rosy retrospection, wherein students became accustomed to that environment and recall
it more fondly than they may have otherwise (Mitchell et al., 1997; Wirtz et al. 2003). Most
alumnae interviewed indicated that their experiences were not often as overtly racist as the
actions described via “Black at” accounts. Instead, they fared with covert racism that, over the
years, they recognized for what it was and underwent a period of transition in which they grew
into a deeper understanding of the racism in their institution, fueling anger or a desire to do
something about it. Interviews helped to form an understanding that the reactions posted via
“Black at” accounts, then, were years in the making and the result of Black girls going from
feeling as though they were part of a school-based family to realizing that they were not as
holistically a part of that family as they initially thought.
Even with these factors making it difficult to fully view themselves as part of their school
in all aspects, Black girls reaped the empowering benefits of attending private girls’ schools.
They found and solidified their voices in these spaces in spite of the schools’ cultural
incompetence, likely due to the relationships they formed with other Black girls, their taking part
in Black student clubs, their interracial solidarity with other non-Black students of color,
representation from Black staff, and support from culturally competent Black faculty. These
relationships filled their schools’ cultural awareness gaps, allowing Black girls to retain a sense
of steadiness in their racial identities and lean into accessing the girl power that the schools tout.
Results of Research Question 3
Research question 3 asked, “How do Black women alumnae suggest independent girls’
schools can better support Black girls?” The primary interview question utilized to respond to
this research question was question 16: “Describe what an ideal institution would look like that
supports Black students.” A follow-up question asked, “What about an institution that supports
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Black girls, specifically?” Alumnae’s responses are summarized below, first by ideas of how
institutions might support all Black students, followed by how they might support Black girls in
particular.
Alumnae’s suggestions for how schools can support Black students overall generally
aligned with commonly understood best practices for Black students at any school. These
included a commitment to diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice efforts, a culturally responsive
and choice-centered curriculum that intentionally uplifts the contributions of the Black diaspora,
and well-rounded student support (particularly for students of lower socioeconomic status).
Other perhaps less-explored ideas for means to support Black students included courageous
leadership from administrators and ongoing support for students through the alumni level. The
upcoming section further discusses these less-explored ideas.
Alumnae suggestions for support of Black girls included connections to other Black
women staff and alumnae for othermother and sister-like relationships, with a note that these
must be culturally competent connections and should go beyond the tokenized role of the DEIJ
practitioner. As previously emphasized, an alumnae noted that with the intentional support of
these roles, Black girls can understand their racial identities in ways that may prove challenging
otherwise. An alumna also indicated that it is critical for schools to connect with parents who are
navigating how to best provide at home the cultural support that students may be lacking at
school.
Discussion of Research Question 3
Interviewed alumnae proposed courageous leadership and ongoing student engagement
through the alumni level as ways that private schools can provide support for Black students. For
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Black girls in particular, they suggested Black woman representation and parental support. The
following sections further discuss these propositions.
Courageous Leadership as a Necessary Support for Black Students
When considering the best means of supporting Black students, alumna Destiny indicated
the role leaders can play:
From a leadership perspective, you have to be willing to be challenged. And if you’re not,
if your response to being challenged is to get defensive or to cover up, we’re not going
anywhere. And, so, I think these institutions need to be able to confront the impact they
have, negative and positive, on Black students.
Detert (2022) identified three primary qualities of courageous leaders: displaying
openness and humility, putting principles first, and focusing on making environments safer for
others. Courageous leadership when navigating racial issues at schools could prove especially
challenging for White leaders, who are the majority demographic in private schools (Taie &
Goldring, 2020). A report by the National Association of Independent Schools found that just 8%
of heads of school and 16% of all administrators were people of color (Blackwell & Taske,
2019). This means that most often, those in charge of private schools cannot directly relate to the
experiences of students of color. Thus, it is critical that these administrators build their own
cultural awareness and responsiveness to be courageous about racial matters.
To make more tangible the qualities of courageous leadership indicated by Detert (2022),
examples of displaying openness and humility regarding race-related matters in private girls’
schools could mean leaders deciding that cultural competency is a priority, being open to
learning more about and believing experiences that they themselves have not had, attending
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training, and apologizing and speaking candidly when they cause racial harm or do not actively
work to stop harm from continuing.
Secondarily, Detert (2022) indicated that putting principles first means that leaders will
not always be popular. This idea can be especially challenging for heads of school, who are
accountable to their paying customers: the parents. Some wealthy private school parents, as
indicated via “Black at” account posts and alumnae interviews, lack cultural competence and,
therefore, may not agree with school leaders’ decisions that align with the best interests of
students of color. Heads of school must, therefore, be willing to refuse to sacrifice Black
students’ dignity for the sake of White comfort and can stand on their mission statements to do
this successfully. A mission statement is only as successful as the extent to which it applies to all
students. If certain students do not reap the benefits of the institution and its mission because of
their race, the head of school and administration must act in a way that aligns with the
institution’s mission-centered responsibility, not the potentially unjust ideas of some of those it
serves. Acting in this fashion will ensure that leaders make the environment safer for others, in
alignment with Detert’s third principle of courageous leadership.
Ongoing Support Through the Alumni Level as a Tool for Black Student Success
Another interviewee suggested that supporting Black students all the way through the
alumni level could prove beneficial. While this is a practice of some charter schools, it has
largely been to help students succeed at the rigor of the collegiate level and ensure successful
graduation for BIPOC students, which is not typically deemed a challenge for Black girls who
attended predominantly White private schools (Marcus, 2021).
Instead, the support these Black girls need may come in the form of ongoing mentorship
and psychological support to grapple with the harm that their institution caused, given that some
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alumnae via “Black at” posts cited lasting trauma from their schools well into adulthood. It
seems that the accounts did result in some schools beginning to acknowledge and seek to provide
psychological support as a result of the harm they caused, in the form of offering funds for
therapy for their Black alumnae, as reported by one interviewee.
To that end, another interviewee recommendation is ongoing racial support groups for
Black alumnae, which could also serve as networking spaces. This type of service would
acknowledge that the harm some students experience does not end when they graduate and
renew a commitment to providing cultural competence for some since-departed students that the
school lacked while they attended. Some private schools offer spaces for Black alumnae to
gather as part of homecoming efforts, which is a start but not a holistic means of ongoing support
that some alumnae might argue they are owed after their experiences. Another proposed
recommendation is to extend the funds offered for therapeutic services beyond a response to the
“Black at” moment, instead recognizing that the need to heal from racial trauma continues
post-graduation by making the funds permanently available for ongoing alumnae access.
Black Woman Representation as a Means of Supporting Black Girl Empowerment
When describing the need for Black women’s representation for Black girls to succeed in
schools, the interviewees made it clear that they meant beyond just the diversity practitioner role.
Sometimes, that may mean looking outside of the walls of the school building. Destiny stated,
[Show Black girls] representation [of themselves]. And representation is not just in the
diversity role. Like, yes, we know a Black woman can teach you how to be a better White
person, but let’s move on from that, right? I think representation, again, that commitment
to diversity, not just for the pamphlet, but in a true experiential way, I think that’s
something that can be really important. And look, if you don’t have it in-house, provide
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the support externally. … Partner with organizations that have Black women in positions
of power, Black women in various levels of professionalism, or of anything,
professionalism, the arts, theater, whatever it is. Show the Black girls in your
predominantly White institution what it looks like to be a fulfilled, successful Black
woman. Make those connections. If you can’t have it in-house, partner with people. There
are too many organizations and resources available … to say that you don’t know how or
you can’t do it. If you don’t know how, outsource it.
Nina built on this idea while adding the criticality of those providing Black representation also
being culturally competent and schools making space for this cultural competency as welcome
practice:
I think that maybe the Black teachers that we did have, maybe they just didn’t feel like it
was part of their job to connect with the Black students or to be like a person for the
Black students that the Black students could look to or feel supported by. Because I just
never felt that connection with those teachers. It just felt very much like, all right, she’s a
Black teacher, but like, she’s not like a resource to me. So, I don’t know how you change
that because maybe those teachers just felt like they needed to remain unbiased and to
treat all their students the same, which is fair, and I can see that as an adult. But I know
from my perspective, like, seeing these teachers and being like, oh, there’s someone else
that I could look to, but then not feeling like I could … or connect to them, or use them as
a resource was sometimes disappointing for me. So, I don’t know what the solution is.
Maybe putting people in place that are able to do that without feeling like they’ll be
penalized by the school or feeling like it’ll be an issue. I don’t know, but that would have
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been helpful to me to feel like, okay, I see these Black women around, you know, how
can I actually feel supported by them?
The idea of increased Black representation, including the need to outsource and to
embrace in-house Black faculty’s ability to be openly culturally competent, relate to courageous
leadership. With courageous leadership, and thus humility, there is the recognition of when
institutions need to find the Black woman representation that their students need. It is only with
the desire to make the environment safer for others that leaders encourage Black staff not to be
afraid to support Black students in nuanced ways that may be necessary for them. The
possibilities of these supports, and really any sustainable support for Black students, thus depend
on the extent to which (mostly White) leaders are courageous enough to view themselves as
responsible for Black girls’ outcomes while in their care.
Providing Supports for Black Parents as Their Daughters Navigate Predominantly White
Private Schools
Finally, Renee spoke to the support that Black parents could use as they seek to provide
the culturally relevant supplementation at home that Black girls may not be receiving in their
predominantly White private schools:
I think that institutions need to provide support for parents and guardians of Black girls.
Because there are things that are happening that, like, my parents are from the Caribbean
… a predominantly Black place. So, some of the things that I was dealing with were not
their lived experience. It wasn’t something they could relate to. It wasn’t something they
knew what to do. It wasn’t something they could be like, oh, just read this or do this. … I
think parents are often left out of institutions that people deem to be good institutions,
like charter schools have the same set of issues as well, where, like, people just trust that
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the school knows what they’re doing. But I think institutions need to support Black girls.
Because then we come out, and we’re really, really educated. And, also, I think, probably,
the least empowered. And really, we could be running circles around our peers and are
running circles around our peers. But it takes us a very long time to get to that point
where they believe it. But I will say, when we get there, they are probably regretting it.
Because at my job now, I finally am like, they’re like, you know, this company is so
lucky to have you … and is! And are! And forever will be. But that took, like, my own
prayer and people pouring into me and people constantly reminding me that I deserve to
be here, whether or not it ever feels like it and whether or not the day-to-day ever feels
like it. … I think that that was something I had to unlearn for 20-something years.
Renee is suggesting a school and family partnership as a means of lessening the impact of
culturally unresponsive schools on Black girls and even indicating that such a partnership could
lessen the trauma that Black girls have going forward. This type of school/community
partnership is, again, a model that predominantly White private schools may not routinely utilize
for the sake of promoting cultural competency. Often, school-community partnerships come in
the form of patronizing businesses of school alumni or the families of current or former students,
or to provide students with community-based experiences to enhance the curriculum. Renee’s
proposed model of school-community partnership, then, is an intentional and ongoing effort to
work together to determine how to solve a problem that the school community is facing. It is a
revolutionary idea and one that requires leadership to request parental support on an issue that
they are not necessarily experts on: cultural responsiveness and support. Successfully executing
such an initiative could see revolutionary outcomes for Black girls’ mental health and overall
well-being.
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Summary of Research Question 3
Alumnae offered innovative ideas for how to best support Black girls in predominantly
White private girls’ schools. Whether ongoing support through the alumni level, providing the
space for Black educators to be openly culturally responsive, outsourcing Black woman
representation, or creating a partnership between parents and schools to effectively provide Black
girls with the culturally relevant support they need- there are many means of potentially
lessening the burden for Black girls in their schools.
The success of any of these possibilities, however, depends heavily on courageous
leadership. Leaders must be willing to step outside of themselves, potentially against the
preferences of certain families and even donors, to see these outcomes achieved. A school is only
as courageous as its leaders are. So, while Black alumnae are willing to provide schools with
these solutions and more, the pathway to mitigating harm for Black girls lies in the extent to
which White heads of school and administrators view it as their responsibility. Black girls have
bared their trauma, advocated in their institutions, and provided solutions, all while continuing to
profess their love for the schools that raised them. The ball is thus in the court of schools to
create sustainable solutions beyond the momentum of “Black at” accounts for their offspring.
Summary
Research question 1 focused on the insights that “Black at” Instagram account posts
could provide regarding the experiences of Black girls in predominantly White private K-12
girls’ schools. The coding process revealed two primary categories of codes: Culturally
unresponsive environments and racist or culturally insensitive actions toward Black students.
The posts revealed that Black girls were often positioned as outsiders in their schooling
environments, feeling as though their race superseded their personhood. In some cases, White
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teachers and administrators made the environment worse and White students were emboldened
in their racism. When Black students did find means of excelling, some faced discomfort from
their White peers and subsequent racist retaliation. Some Black students indicated that they
blamed themselves for the racist treatment they faced. Still, BIPOC staff and students could
serve as helpful support systems as Black girls navigated culturally unresponsive environments.
Research question 2 used data from alumnae interviews to determine the experiences of
Black woman alumnae and their perceptions of the experiences of other Black girls while
attending predominantly White private girls’ schools. By and large, the primary themes
ascertained via research question 1 were relevant to research question 2 as well- culturally
unresponsive schooling environments and racist actions- but alumnae noted their surprise at the
overt nature of “Black at” instagram posts. They did not invalidate the posts, however, as they
indicated experiencing racism themselves in a covert fashion. One alumnae, Meredith, noted that
there may be reticence to fully recall the extent of racist experiences while in school as a result of
becoming acclimated to a culturally unresponsive environment, a phenomenon she calls
“survivor bias”. Interviews revealed the duality of predominantly White private girls’ schoolswhile Black girls navigated racism, they also felt a sense of empowerment as women, often
bolstered by their relationships with other Black girls. Interviewees indicated that there often
came a time when they went from assimilation to being angry at the racism of their schools.
Support from BIPOC students, faculty, and staff again proved critical.
Finally, research question 3 explored Black woman alumnae’s beliefs about how
independent girls’ schools can better support Black girls. Alumnae first discussed how schools
can support all Black students, which revealed the importance of courageous leadership. They
assert that leaders must view it as their responsibility to protect Black students and be unwilling
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to tolerate a culturally unresponsive environment. This may mean going against the cultural
norm of the institution, and perhaps even their customers (the parents/donors), which may pose a
challenge. They further suggest ongoing psychological support for students through alumnae
status to help heal from a culturally unresponsive environment. In considering support for Black
girls in particular, interviewees indicated the importance of representation of culturally
competent Black women, and that schools must make it safe for Black teachers to express the
level of care that Black girls need. Finally, alumnae proposed a school/parent partnership to
support Black parents who are at times seeking to provide the cultural responsiveness at home
that their children are not receiving while at school.
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Chapter Five: Discussion
Chapter Five reviews findings related to the experiences of Black girls in predominantly
White private K–12 girls schools, as well as alumnae’s suggestions for how schools can better
support Black girls. Black girls sit at the compounded intersections of race and gender and are
often viewed as outsiders societally and, in tandem, in the schooling context (Collins, 2009;
Jacobs, 2016). Intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989), Critical Race Feminism (Wing, 1997), and
Black girlhood (Jacobs, 2016) frameworks grounded the study. These frameworks advance the
theory that Black girls’ voices and perspectives are worth centering to better understand and
uplift their positioning in a society that often suppresses their cultural ways of being, defining
their existence as abnormal (Collins, 2009). This chapter discusses salient findings to inform the
possibilities for Black girls in predominantly White schools and presents recommendations for
improving outcomes. Further, recommendations for future research are relevant to the study’s
context.
The study’s research questions endeavored to more deeply understand the experiences of
Black girls in predominantly White private girls’ schools and how to better support them. The
research questions were as follows:
1. How do independent girls’ schools’ “Black at” Instagram posts provide insight into
the experiences of Black girls attending a predominantly White institution?
2. How do Black women alumnae of predominantly White independent girls’ schools
describe the experiences of themselves and other Black girls?
3. How do Black women alumnae suggest predominantly White independent girls’
schools can better support Black girls?
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I used only qualitative methods to conduct the study. Five New York City private girls’
schools met the study criteria (non-boarding, secular, K–12), and, using content analysis and
axial coding methods, I analyzed 671 Instagram posts from these five schools’ “Black at”
Instagram accounts. Further, I used convenience sampling to source five alumnae from two of
the selected schools to interview and gain insights into their experiences and their perceptions of
the experiences of other Black girls, as well as their ideas about how predominantly White
schools can better support Black students.
Findings
Study findings suggest that predominantly White independent K–12 girls’ schools are
culturally unresponsive environments that perpetuate racist actions both overtly and covertly;
they do so both with and without intention. White students and faculty members alike perpetuate
these racist actions. However, the schooling environments are not without hope. Indeed, they
exist as complex spaces in which Black girls are simultaneously torn down along racial lines and
built up along gender lines. While Black girls are keenly aware that they are relegated to the
margins in their schools (Collins, 2009), they do still reap the benefits of women’s empowerment
in those spaces. Often, the empowerment comes from relationships with other Black girls,
faculty, and staff who serve as othermothers and BIPOC friends who stand in solidarity with
them (Collins, 1990). The following sections overview four key findings from the research,
which are as follows:
Findings Relevant to Research Questions 1 and 2
Below are findings on Black girls’ experiences in predominantly White private schools,
as posed by Research Questions 1 and 2:
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● Black girls in predominantly White private girls’ schools experience culturally
unresponsive environments that are overtly and covertly racist, both intentionally and
unintentionally.
● Black girls’ experiences in predominantly White private girls’ schools are
complicated and nuanced.
● Relationships with Black peers, faculty, staff, and alumnae are important for Black
girls’ sense of belonging in predominantly White private schools.
The following sections discuss these findings.
White Private Girls’ Schools as Culturally Unresponsive Environments
The first finding asserts that Black girls in predominantly White private girls’ schools
experience culturally unresponsive environments that are overtly and covertly racist, both
intentionally and unintentionally. While multiple interviewees indicated that they found the overt
nature of the racism expressed in some of the “Black at” account posts jarring, they did not
indicate that such actions were unfathomable. Indeed, they contended that they, too, had
experienced racism at their schools, just in more of a covert fashion. One alumna, Meredith,
suggested that it may not even be that the racism she experienced was covert. Instead, it could be
that assimilation into the environment over time made it harder for her to fully recognize
racism’s impact, what she calls “survivor bias.” While Black girls seem to have experienced the
racism of their private schools at varying levels, they all maintain that they experienced it. This
finding upholds the idea of schools as microcosms of society that position Black girls as
outsiders (Collins, 2009; Jacobs, 2016).
Further, racism in these environments proved both unintentional and intentional.
Intentional examples include “Black at” posts that referred to faculty members explicitly stating
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that they treat Black students more harshly so that they become accustomed to the treatment that
they will receive in the outside world. By stripping Black girls of their innocence and failing to
protect them, such actions align with research that finds that adults view Black girls as less
innocent and more adult-like (Epstein et al., 2017). “Black at” account posts further revealed a
culture that does not hold White students or faculty accountable for their actions. Black girls are,
therefore, left without protection by those charged with protecting them.
Furthermore, even when Black students do excel, “Black at” account posts indicate that
they are still targeted. One student recalled receiving a phone call home for speaking up too
much, supporting the idea that predominantly White private schools would prefer that Black girls
be seen and not heard. This finding aligns with Fordham’s research, which found that the more
silent and invisible Black girls made themselves in schools, the more successful they were
(1993). It also aligns with the perspectives of alumnae, one of whom shared that college
admissions season showed their White peers’ true colors. They were comfortable with Black
students as long as they were not a threat and stayed in what they viewed as their rightful place.
When Black students got into White students’ preferred colleges, however, the covert racial
pecking order made itself clear.
With both students and teachers creating racial atmospheres for Black students that prove
challenging and relegate them to the margins, the necessity of a Black girlhood framework is
evident (2016). As one interviewee put it, it helps to make sense of why Black students come to
realize that the institution is flawed and that they must say something. This is the point at which
Black students may “flip a script,” as another interviewee said. But, without utilizing a Black
girlhood framework, Black girls’ choice to speak up and push back may be viewed as
disrespectful; these are the same types of behaviors that warrant Black girls’ suspensions in
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public schools at disproportionate rates (Crenshaw, 2015). Instead, the Black girlhood framework
allows for centering the totality of Black girls’ perspectives and experiences, making it clear why
they reach the point of pushing back against the status quo, even taking actions such as creating
“Black at” Instagram accounts.
Private Girls’ Schools as Complicated and Nuanced for Black Girls
Still, Ciara, the same alumna interviewee who indicated that there came a time when she
knew that she had to speak out about the unfairness of her school, also spoke of her schooling
environment fondly, describing it as a family. This is because, as the second finding indicates,
Black girls’ experiences in predominantly White private girls’ schools are complicated and
nuanced. The schools seemingly exist at the nexus of both causing long-term racial harm and
providing students with skill sets that benefit them well into adulthood.
Renee quipped about how prepared she was to succeed in the workplace while also
having to remind herself of her capabilities well into adulthood due to the self-doubt her
schooling environment engendered within her due to her race. Destiny prided herself on holding
her own in a room with any man because of the confidence her school instilled in her, and Ciara
seconded this notion while indicating the limitations she realized were placed on her because of
her race. The schools provided a sense of empowerment for all girls, but for Black girls, that
empowerment came with an asterisk.
This finding aligns with the complicated relationship that Black women and girls have
historically held with feminism. Black girls’ dissonance with their schooling environments is
seemingly because of the pain point that alumnae described as inevitably arriving for them when
they realized their school’s mentality of empowerment with an asterisk. They then displayed a
form of femininity that is louder, more boisterous, and insistent on justice (Cole & Zucker, 2007;
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Jacobs, 2016). While this form of femininity is historically commonplace for Black women and
girls, it is not an expectation of dominant and hegemonic femininity that is commonly at play in
predominantly White girls’ schools. While incongruent displays of femininity render Black girls
as outsiders in their environments, they are not so far on the outside that they do not reap the
benefits of the institution.
Indeed, this complicated relationship is evidenced by the creation of “Black at” accounts
themselves. The act of posting is both a proclamation of pain and a call to action to do better, as
evidenced by account holders’ notes calling for their schools to take action. Despite the pain they
experienced, Black girls believe that change is possible. This is proof that some Black girls
continue to believe in the potential for goodness in the schools that have hurt them. “Black at”
accounts might even be viewed as an inventive, visionary, and meaningful example (all tenets of
Black girlhood) of calling for change in a way that makes plain the harm caused while leaving
the door open to dignity and justice could look like (Brown, 2013). As an example, one “Black
at” Instagram account asked current students and alumnae to share positive memories:
To our followers: Tomorrow is Juneteenth. We would love to take this day to share
positive experiences and memories within the Black Spence community. We also would
like to take this time to recognize faculty/staff that supported and protected us at Spence.
We call on the Spence School to honor Juneteenth, particularly in light of the inadequate
response to #BlackSpenceSpeaks … In love and struggle, #BlackSpenceSpeaks
Other accounts made calls to action to administrators, seeking to bring them into the
conversation to ideate on the path forward collectively. While some may view these accounts as
a calling out, others may view them as a calling in. Given the complicated and nuanced nature of
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Black girls’ relationships with the predominantly White schools they attended, they are most
likely a mixture of both.
Black Representation as Critical for Black Girl Belonging
The third finding argues that relationships with Black peers, faculty, staff, and alumnae
are important for Black girls’ sense of belonging in predominantly White private schools. These
relationships serve as an intentional countering of White supremacy by rejecting the White
supremacist culture tenant of individualism and instead embracing communalism (Jones &
Okun, 2001). Just as Black women have historically worked in community to achieve
justice-centered outcomes, Black girls of today similarly thrive in community with one another
in sisterhood-like circles.
Regarding faculty support, alumnae emphasized the importance of Black faculty having
the institution’s backing to support Black students in culturally responsive ways. This stance
brings forth an important point of consideration in predominantly White private schools, which is
that Black faculty and staff exist in the same culturally unresponsive environments that Black
students do, perhaps rendering it more challenging for them to provide the support that Black
students need in addition to performing their jobs and navigating the environment themselves.
Given that Black girls claim retaliation at their schools for being in community with Black
teachers, one could assume that Black teachers themselves may face similar backlash. This
phenomenon sheds light on the importance of Black girls having relationships outside the school
community who face less risk in providing support, such as alumnae. It also emphasizes the
importance of leaders being courageous enough to foster the culturally responsive environment
necessary for Black girls to succeed and for Black faculty to feel safe to support them. The
following section discusses courageous leadership.
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Findings Relevant to Question Three
The findings speak to how private schools can better support Black girls, as posed by
Research Question 3. Black alumnae believe private girls’ schools must take risks to achieve
cultural competency to better support Black girls.
The following section discusses this finding.
Taking Risks to Achieve Cultural Competency
One interviewed alumna indicated that there will be no institutional change without
leaders who desire it. The self-governing nature of private schools can serve as an advantage or
disadvantage depending on leaders’ decisions. Given that the schools and faculty are the creators
of their own curricula and structure, theoretically, there is the possibility for swift, implementable
change to promote cultural competency (unlike say, a public school whose curriculum comes
from the district) (Kane, 1991; Gulla, 2021). Or, there is the pathway of continuing the existing
practices of traditionally White private schools.
Multiple “Black at” Instagram account posts suggest that schools were not courageous
enough in their responses to the accounts’ existence, as they called for stronger responses from
leaders. However, interviewed alumnae mentioned that some Black alumnae serve on the board
of trustees at their alma maters and that some institutions have offered to subsidize therapeutic
support for alumnae in the wake of the “Black at” movement. A willingness for change, then,
may depend on the institution and alumnae’s perceptions of their institutions.
It is worth noting that long-term change may require school leaders to be countercultural.
In schools with a legacy of exclusion and racism, speaking out and seeking to stop these
practices in their tracks would be going against the cultural landscape. Traditionally White
institutions have historically been resistant to change (i.e., school integration), which could
114

signal a lack of schools’ willingness to change even today. Leaders are up against the cultural
norms of the institution, as set by the majority, and they must also grapple with the input of the
customers they serve: families. Many independent schools employ a much more business-like
model than public schools, with parents and students as customers whose services they would
like to retain.
But in a world where leadership does prove courageous, alumnae imagine faculty
members feeling empowered to support Black students, school assistance for Black parents to
provide cultural support for their children at home, psychological support for students even as
alumnae, and pathways for partnership with external organizations to provide Black girls with
the representation they need to feel reflected in their schools.
Implications for Practice
Implications for practice are listed and described below. While these findings may prove
applicable to all Black students navigating predominantly White schooling environments, the
intersectional identity of Black girls (Creshaw, 1989) suggests that the implications may prove
especially impactful for them. The same is true of the subsequent section.
1. Black girls are capable of expressing their experiences in predominantly White
educational spaces and must be believed.
2. White private schools are positioned as both sites of pain and possibility for Black
students.
3. School leaders must give their staff permission to be the culturally competent educators
they need to be and interrogate their school’s culture if this feels untenable.
This study first implies that, in accordance with the Black girlhood framework (Brown,
2013), Black girls have the means of expressing their experiences with clarity and nuance. They
115

simply must be given the space to do so safely, believed when they do speak up, and trusted as
visionaries for future possibilities. This implication is applicable across all sectors that Black
women and girls occupy.
Secondarily, predominantly White private schools are positioned as both sites of pain and
possibility for Black students. This paradoxical finding leaves opportunities for those who work
in these schools. “Black at” accounts made schools keenly aware of the challenges that Black
students face, and they are theoretically equipped with the immediate opportunities to spark
change due to their self-governing nature (Gulla, 2021; Kane, 1991). Again, however, such an
institutional shift requires that faculty and staff feel safe enough to be the culturally relevant
educators that Black girls need.
Another implication for practice, then, is for school leaders. They must recognize that
fostering a culturally competent schooling environment means giving permission for their staff to
actively center Black girls’ needs and that failing to do so will continue the cycle of harm,
whether intentional or unintentional. In cases where such a declaration means being
countercultural, school leaders must interrogate the deep cultures of their institutions (Hammond,
2014) and contend with whether they are safe for Black children to thrive. If they are uncertain
of the response to that query, they should seek the perspectives of Black girls and uplift them as
valid (Brown, 2013). Given that “Black at” accounts chronicle some faculty members inflicting
harm intentionally, cultural change may prove an uphill battle, even warranting questions as to
whether predominantly White schooling environments are just inherently unsafe spaces for
Black students, as Iloabugichukwu (2018) proposed at the end of her op-ed.
The good news for school leaders is that Black girls are willing to come to the table for
conversation. They have love for their schools and want to see them do better. This assertion is
116

consistent with Hill et al.’s (2023) findings that even while they navigated culturally
unresponsive environments, Black girls in predominantly White independent girls’ schools
created space for their joy and racial healing.
Future Research
Future research opportunities are as follows:
1. Exploring the leadership practices of White leaders in predominantly White private
schools, particularly as it relates to cultural competency
2. Unpacking Black faculty and staff’s experience practicing cultural competency in
predominantly White private schools
3. Assessing the impact of parent and community partnerships on Black student outcomes in
predominantly White schools
4. Exploring whether Black girls are being offered a mission-aligned experience in girls’
schools
These research opportunities are subsequently discussed in greater detail.
Especially given the prevalence of the “Black at” movement that jumpstarted
conversations about cultural competence in predominantly Black schools, future research could
explore school leaders’ responses to these accounts and the subsequent impact on Black students.
It would be especially intriguing to explore the extent to which White leaders’ practice aligned
with cultural competency both before and after “Black at” accounts to glean what they may have
learned from hearing students’ perspectives. This study could provide implications for other
White leaders on their journeys to being culturally competent educators.
In addition to analyzing school leaders’ perspectives, future research could analyze the
perspectives of staff. Corresponding with the aforementioned recommendation for future
117

research, studies could determine the extent to which Black staff in predominantly White schools
feel supported in their efforts to promote cultural competency. It might also assess for any
additional psychological burdens Black staff carry as compared to their White peers regarding
supporting Black students.
Further, alumnae offered two suggestions for community engagement that warrant deeper
interrogation: private schools forming community partnerships to bolster representation for
Black girls and educating parents to help provide cultural support for their students at home.
Both suggestions align with a community-centered approach to Black students’ well-being,
which may be a novel practice for private schools, given that the purpose of such partnership
would be to promote racial psychological safety. Though perhaps novel for private schools, this
practice would align with communalism, which disrupts White supremacy culture and is a
practice that Black women have used for decades (Combahee River Collective, 1977; Jones &
Okun, 2001). Future studies could gauge school, community, and parent interest in the proposal
or even the impact of implementing the practice.
While listening to the perspectives of Black girls is vital and research-backed (Brown,
2013; Wing, 1997), it also places an additional burden on them to hold the institution
accountable in ways that are not expected of their White peers. As such, future research could
assess the impact on Black girls as they provide cultural capital and support to their schools,
determining if they are being provided with a mission-aligned experience. Such interrogation is
especially critical for Black girls in girls’ schools given that Black girls indicate feeling as
though the stated claims of empowerment offered by girls’ schools are not fully accessible to
them. Research that assesses Black girls’ cultural experiences against the proclamations made by
girls’ schools in their mission statements could prove insightful.
118

Conclusion
This study employed intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989), Critical Race Feminist (Wing,
1997), and Black girlhood (Brown, 2013) frameworks to assess the experiences of Black girls in
predominantly White private girls’ schools and suggestions for their support in said
environments. It employed a case study method and examined “Black at” Instagram posts from
five schools that met the study criteria, in addition to interviewing five alumnae of private girls’
schools. Findings from Instagram account analysis and alumnae interviews yielded three core
findings relevant to Research Questions 1 and 2. First, Black girls experience overt and covert
racism in predominantly White private girls’ schools, which occurs both intentionally and
unintentionally. Second, Black girls’ experiences are complicated and nuanced. Third, Black
girls’ relationships with Black peers, faculty, and staff are critical for belonging. In response to
Research Question 3, alumnae noted that private schools must be willing to take risks to see
changes for Black girls, including courageous leadership, community partnerships, faculty
empowerment, and parental support.
The study further revealed three implications for practice: Black girls are capable of
expressing their experiences, White private schools are sites of both pain and possibility for
Black girls, and school leaders must give their staff permission to be culturally competent
educators and interrogate their deep culture (by listening to Black girls) if this feels unattainable
(Hammond, 2014). Possibilities for future research include exploring White leaders’ cultural
competence and abilities to authentically support Black girls, unpacking Black faculty and staff’s
experience practicing cultural competency in predominantly White private schools, assessing the
impact of parent and community partnerships on Black student outcomes in predominantly
119

White schools, and exploring whether Black girls are being offered a mission-aligned experience
in girls’ schools.
This study informs future possibilities for Black girls in schooling environments by
uplifting their voices, calling for cultural change and critical interrogation, and proposing a
community-centered approach to supporting them.
120

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Appendix A: Interview Protocol
Hello, [insert name]. Thank you for joining me for our interview today. You have been
selected to be interviewed for this study because of your status as an alumna at an independent
New York east coast girls’ school. The study seeks to better understand Black girls’ experiences
in independent girls’ schools. I will seek a better understanding of these experiences by assessing
‘Black at’ Instagram posts, and by speaking with alumnae about their experiences, which is
where you come in!
I plan to record this interview for the purposes of reviewing it later. Is that okay with
you? It is appropriate to answer no, in which case I will not do so.
Please note that your responses will be kept confidential. Any findings that are distributed
will include a pseudonym so that you are not readily identifiable. I will also make any necessary
changes to ensure confidentiality, such as not including particular, identifying quotations or any
other relevant information. I will also not name the school that you attended in affiliation with
your specific responses. Do you have any questions about that?
Before we begin, it is also important to note that this interview is completely voluntary
and you are not required to answer any questions that you are uncomfortable with. You only need
to divulge as much as you care to, and we can stop this interview at any point for any reason. Of
utmost importance is your wellbeing, so if at any point emotions arise for you that are unsettling,
please let me know and I will either move on to another question or, as stated, we can stop the
interview and/or the recording completely. Do you have any questions about that?
At the end of the interview, you will have an opportunity to share anything else that you might
like to share that didn’t come up during the interview itself.
Ok, at this point, I will start the recording so that we can begin.
131

Section 1: Opening Questions
Transition: We’ll begin by getting some general demographic information.
1. Please share your name, the school you attended, and your graduation year.
2. Please confirm the grades you attended the school.
Section 2: Introduction Questions
Transition: Thank you. Next, we’ll discuss your role.
3. How did you find yourself at [SCHOOL NAME?]
4. Could you describe your student experience overall, in your own words? If
applicable: How might you describe your upper school experience, in particular?
5. Who were your closest friends? Could you tell me about them?
6. Describe a time when your race informed your student experience, if at all. What
happened? Note that this can be positive, negative, or neutral.
7. Describe a time when your gender, gender identity, or sexual orientation informed
your student experience, if at all. What happened? Note that this can be positive,
negative, or neutral.
Section 3: Key Questions
Transition: Thank you. Now that we’ve explored a bit about your student experience
generally, we’re going to talk more about Black girls’ experiences, based on your experiences
and perspectives.
8. How often, on average, would you say you interacted with other Black girls at
school?
a. Follow up: Tell me about these interactions; what were you usually doing when
interacting with other Black girls at your school?
132

b. Follow up: Tell me about a particularly memorable interaction that you’ve had
with other Black girls at your school. What made it memorable?
9. Thinking about what you have seen and heard from the Black girls with whom you
attended school, describe a student who you believe had a typical student experience.
Tell me about that experience. You are welcome to have this experience be your own,
should you wish.
10. Describe the most surprising experience you witnessed as a Black girl, if applicable.
a. Follow up: What about this particular experience made it surprising?
b. Follow up: How, if at all, were you involved in this experience?
TRANSITION
11. Please describe your understanding of what ‘Black at’ accounts are, generally.
12. Please describe your familiarity with your school’s ‘Black at’ account, if anything.
a. Follow up: How did you first become aware of the account?
b. Follow up: How much time have you spent exploring the“Black at” account, if
any?
c. Follow up: What did you find surprising about your school’s account, if anything?
d. Follow up: What did you not find surprising about the account, if anything?
e. Follow up: How, if at all, has the account informed your perspectives on your own
experiences at your institution?
13. What was your institution’s reaction to having a ‘Black at’ account, if you’re aware?
14. What were your classmates’ reactions to having a ‘Black at’ account, if you’re
aware?
15. Some people say that Black students in all independent schools can relate to ‘Black
at’ account posts. What are your thoughts about that? Follow up: Do you believe
133

there to be anything unique about the experiences of Black girls in independent girls’
schools, specifically?
Section 4: Closing
Transition: Thank you. We are coming to the end of our interview questions, and I’d like
to end with a few questions to wrap things up.
16. Describe what an ideal institution would look like that supports Black students.
Follow up: What about an institution that supports Black girls, specifically?
17. Think about a conversation you would have with a Black girl who was new to the
school. What would you share with her? Follow up: How do you think this
information would inform her trajectory at the institution, if at all?
Closing
That concludes the questions. What, if anything, have we not talked about that would
help me understand your experiences?
Thank you for your time today. I will keep you up to date about the research process, as
well as when the findings are published. As a reminder, everything you’ve said will be kept
confidential, but please also note that you can, up until the point of my formally submitting these
findings, redact any parts of anything you’ve said, or remove yourself from the study altogether.
Do you have any other questions before we close?
Thank you so much!
134

Appendix B: Culture Tree
Illustration by Alexa Maynard
135

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Asset Metadata

Creator Jenkins McIntyre, Akailah (author)

Core Title “Black at”: a study of Black girls in predominantly White independent K–12 girls’ schools

School Rossier School of Education

Degree Doctor of Education

Degree Program Educational Leadership

Degree Conferral Date 2024-05

Publication Date 05/24/2024

Defense Date 04/25/2024

Publisher Los Angeles, California (original), University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Black at,Black girlhood,black girls,critical race feminism,girls’ schools,independent schools,OAI-PMH Harvest,Protest,social media

Format theses (aat)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Cash, David (committee chair), Hinga, Briana (committee member), Krop, Cathy Sloane (committee member)

Creator Email akailah.mcintyre@gmail.com,atjenkin@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-oUC113967535

Unique identifier UC113967535

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Legacy Identifier etd-JenkinsMcI-13024

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Format theses (aat)

Rights Jenkins McIntyre, Akailah

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