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My Privilege, Power, and Positionality Within CSD  

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My Privilege, Power, and Positionality Within CSD  

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As a Black-Biracial queer individual, there is a small group of people who share the same identities as me within my professional field. When widening the lens and looking at the society I live in, I am grateful to see a larger pool of folks who share the same, or similar, identities as me. However this community that I am apart of, whether it be the Black or queer community, has faced a long history of systemic and individualized oppression. When considering the privilege I hold in the wider lens of American society built on white-supremacy, I find that I have very little privilege and typically have to be twice as talented to be seen and twice as loud to be heard in comparison to my white peers. However, when considering my positionality within the field of CSD as a student clinician and someone who has received higher education, I am allotted more privileges. When examining the relationship between myself and a client, I acknowledge that I have the privilege to be the teacher, the leader, and a voice of knowledge. This also intersects with the power that I hold. As the clinician within a client-clinician relationship, I hold the power to make important decisions and give recommendations such as assessment types, treatment types, and "little c" counseling. These recommendations and decisions could have life long implications for my clients. I believe when we as clinicians hold these types of privileges and power, it is important for our positionality to be truly reflective of not just who we are as a clinician but who we are when we step out of that clinical role. My positionality is influenced by my experience(s) as a Black-Biracial, queer, fat, fem-presenting individual in the American South. I incorporate anti-racist-prejudice-fatphobic-ableist ideals/pedagogy into my everyday life and practice as a student clinician. My identities and individual experiences shape my outlook on the privileges, power, and positionality I hold. Therefore, it is important for myself and others to be educated through a lens that is not only our own.

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One of my passions is learning about dialects, specifically African American Vernacular English (AAVE). There is a long documented history of the way some Black individuals speak being labeled as "lazy, hostile, aggressive, and inferior" (Kurinec & Weaver, 2021). I wish to crush these stereotypes through educating others on the legitimacy of AAVE. This article by Chelsea Privette and Karina Saechao provides an amazing insight to Black Languaging from the lens of Black SLPs. This article uses AAVE throughout it, and prior to reading this article I had never seen AAVE being used in a scholarly article. Truly a For Us By Us moment!

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As a queer individual in the field of CSD, I often wonder... are there others and where are they?! I have been apart of the field of CSD since 2019, and over the course of that time I have been able to witness many changes in regards to ASHA placing a larger importance on DEI and other inclusion initiatives. Even throughout witnessing these changes, I still found myself wondering where the queer representation was. As a Black-Biracial individual, I am very familiar with organizations such as NBASLH and statistics such as the "3%". For those who are unfamiliar, the "3%" refers to the amount of individuals who identify as Black and are practicing speech language pathologist and/or audiologist (ASHA Member and Affiliate Profile, 2021). However, amidst seeing more representation for Black folks in CSD, I began searching for queer representation within the field of CSD and was pleasantly surprised with what I found. Not only is there representation through podcasts and blogs, but there is a LGBTQIA+ caucus within ASHA! This group goes by L'GASP and they define themselves as a multicultural consistency group that provides a forum for queer professionals in the field of CSD. One specific thing that I love about this group is that they offer specific resources for students.

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Statement on Current Events

The LGBTQ+ Communication Sciences and Disorder Student Association (CSDSA) condemns the use of divisive and hateful rhetoric in political discourse most especially when it is targeted at already disenfranchised groups in the United States, particularly Black, Indigenous, people of color (BIPOC) communities; immigrants; trans and gender expansive individuals; LGBTQIA+ folks; women and girls; disabled people; and others who face discrimination based on their identities. We recognize that many CSD students belong to these groups, and those in education and academia also face uncertainty with threats to our public educational systems.The disabled people we serve as a profession, already within systems not designed for them, are confronting the likelihood of further limitations in accessibility and support from public systems. So many are hurting, angry, and afraid. Thus, in light of recent political developments, we issue this statement of support: Read more.

We work to uplift students and improve their academic experiences. Learn more about our mission.

By LGBTQ+ students, for LGBTQ+ students.

Our programs and services are guided by lived experience as LGBTQ+ students with diverse, intersectional backgrounds. Meet our student leaders.

Furthering understanding for professionals and faculty.

Hoping to improve your practice or pedagogy to be more inclusive? Our resources designed for professionals and faculty can help. Learn more.

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Statement on Current Events The LGBTQ+ Communication Sciences and Disorder Student Association (CSDSA) condemns the use of divisive and hateful rhetoric in political discourse most especially when it is targeted at already disenfranchised groups in the United States, particularly Black, Indigenous, people of color (BIPOC) communities; immigrants; trans and gender expansive individuals; LGBTQIA+ folks; women...

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America has a acrid and dark past regarding its treatment of Black individuals, and that past still has implications on the treatment of Black individuals today. This causes great contradictory for Black individuals acceptance towards being American. The attached article discuses what it means to be a Black American and the connotations behind that.

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Since Carter Woodson first planted the seeds that grew into Black History Month in 1926, the month of February unites us all in efforts to increase the visibility of Black culture and history. The year-round importance of celebrating Black life, telling a fuller history, and drawing attention to racial injustices takes on even more meaning this month.

One of the reasons we created My Wish For U.S. is because throughout history, some voices have been silenced, dismissed or existed only on the margins of society. And, though etched into our collective conscience, too many wishes have yet to be realized. By articulating how our ideals might come to life, we can inspire each other to take action.

Lonnie Bunch III, Secretary of the Smithsonian, believes in the transformative power of Black History Month and the service it provides to the American people. "[It] is as much about today as it is about the past. Experiencing Black History Month every year reminds us that history is not dead or distant from our lives."

We know history serves us best when it is truly of the people, by the people, and for the people. That's why we're bringing together museums and historic sites across the country through Made By Us to share more perspectives on the past and empower the next generation to shape the future.

As we look back, we must also look around. In honor of Black History Month, we asked several young Americans how their experience growing up Black in America has been shaped by history, both lived and learned. History is a collection of experiences remembered. By amplifying the voices of young Black Americans today, their words become a powerful record for future generations.
Submissions may have been edited for length.

Being black in America is, well, it's a bit more complicated.

Justice Brown, 18, Alabama
What's it like being black? Well, it's beautiful. Just look at our tight curls and protective braids and laid edges. Look at our full lips and thick thighs and rich skin. Taste our food and hear our music and feel our excellence.

Black. Black is strength and unity and hope. Black is royalty.

Ahh, but being black in America is, well, it's a bit more complicated. Our crowns were exchanged for chains and our palaces for fields. We were stripped of our names, our culture, our identity and sold. And today, we who built this nation - the 13 stripes permanently whipped into our backs - wear the surnames of our oppressors and make 87 cents to their dollar, but hey, at least our worth is more than ⅗ now. And when we protest, our hands must be up and our eyes diverted or we're a threat. A criminal. A thug. Dead. So maybe instead of walking, we'll try voting, but how can we be recognized when the delegates don't look like us? When the mass incarcerations continue to disenfranchise us?

But don't get me wrong, being black is still beautiful. Who else could lead peaceful revolutions to secure citizenship, voting rights, integration, and police reform while being beaten, ignored, and dehumanized?

Black. Black is strength and unity and hope. Black is royalty.

My goal is to gain ground toward true justice and economic empowerment for the black community, in the America that is also ours.

Copeland Johnson, 18, Birmingham, Alabama
I was born without knowing it, but soon learned that the black community, from the moment of my birth, had naturally selected me to be strong, survive, and carry it forward. I will. Growing up, it was clear to me that the black community, like any other, has positive values, beliefs and characteristics that are common to its population, along with many outliers to each of those things. Unlike the majority of other communities within America, we have rarely been afforded the full benefits of our citizenship, or even the mere benefit of the doubt.

The black community has long been the target of purposeful racism, discrimination, cruelty, and societal abuse, regardless of its beneficial contributions to America's economy and its culture. Despite claims that such treatment no longer exists, I am a young man who has witnessed inequality firsthand.

Many choose to define the entire African-American community by its least productive and least successful citizens, while defining other communities by their most. Every community has its share of challenges. We will not accept being solely defined by ours. The duty of American citizenship, in all cases, should be to aid the least among us, protect the innocent, and celebrate the achievements of everyone in the nation.

The legacy gifted to me by notable figures in black history and everyday heroes within the black community is undeniable proof that we are due to be defined by achievement. We are workers. We are thinkers. We are teachers and students. We are first responders. We are jurists. We are inventors and entrepreneurs. We are doctors. We are soldiers and veterans. We are patriots, too.

Yet, one's status as an accomplished, well-meaning, law-abiding black citizen will never matter to individuals and systems that hate the black community. Hate does not relent, even in the face of perfection. Thankfully, love always conquers, even in the face of imperfection. My upbringing as an African-American, Christian gentleman from Alabama has taught me that.

It was the unconditional love of God and my family that soothed away the disappointment when racist teachers or students stereotyped me, underestimated my capabilities, or attempted to deprive me of good grades or fair opportunities. I was able to thrive anyway.

Because I have faith and I am willing to work toward positive outcomes, hate does not intimidate me, discourage me from excellence, or cause me to fret. The remedy is to outnumber and overwhelm those negative individuals and systems with an abundance of those that absolutely love the black community! Our innovation, ingenuity, creativity and resilience are worthy of embrace.

The black community is due to transcend the limits set by the ignorance of others. My place within it is boundless. I am a scout in search of territory that will forever expand the borders of our acceptance, recognition, and potential. As an aspiring attorney, my goal is to gain ground toward true justice and economic empowerment for the black community, in the America that is also ours.

As I developed my passion for art, I came to look at my skin as sturdy armor, rather than a volatile weapon.

Julian Crosby, 20, Miami, Florida
I struggle in finding words to describe how I felt this summer amidst a global pandemic entwined with horrific, burgeoning racial unrest. To millions of Americans, the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor were an awakening, a call to action, a crusade for justice - but for Black men and women, those souls were another innocent reminder of the fragility and blatant disregard of our lives in America.

I attempted to distance myself from the collective trauma, but found it altogether far too daunting of a task because our pain was projected in every crevice of this country. No matter what I did, I could not seek refuge from the torment.

Art saved me, in a sense. When the sheer weight of our communal anguish as Black people attempted to devour my spirit whole, art reminded me of the enormous force within myself to proliferate my own peace. Writing, photography, music - those were the avenues that granted me tranquility when I thought such freedom was inconceivable. When I was typing on my computer, I felt in control. When I turned on the news or looked at my phone, I observed the opposite. I felt less than human - far more inanimate and void of life than a breathing soul with a capacity to feel. Newscasts oversaturated with Black trauma and strife made me feel constant danger - but not as if I was in danger, but rather was the danger. America had done so much to weaponize my Black skin, they made me feel as if I were a ticking bomb - a weapon of mass destruction more regulated and supervised than assault weapons themselves.

As I developed my passion for art, I came to look at my skin as sturdy armor, rather than a volatile weapon. Through art, I was able to embolden myself, and recognize that I wanted to give a sense of similar agency back to the Black community on my college campus.

Together, I worked with my friends in finding a way to physically manifest the reclamation of our power and voice. We chose to retrieve agency over our narrative as Black individuals in society by creating an art publication on campus, The Gravity Magazine. Through this magazine, we were able to assess our own force as creators and construct a future defined by the celebration of our melanin - kinky coils of hair and all. We choose to actively proliferate media exhibiting Black peace and happiness, because our world often feels void of such bliss.

Growing up Black in America is a reminder that I constantly interact with obstacles that have the power to tear me down, but I choose to rise instead. This society yields several mechanisms to turn my good days into bad, but they can never take my peace of mind.

Learning the history of my community, culture, and ancestors allowed me to see that with persistence and courage there can be change within this country.

Navie Fields
Growing up Black in America has been an experience that has shaped me into the person I am today. Though there have been moments of injustice and consistent oppression, I have been able to find my voice and use it to push positivity and growth within my community.

Growing up with a single Black mother, we were forced to use what we had and avoid wanting what others had the ability to enjoy. I learned that nothing in life was given and, due to the color of my skin, there would be times of adversity. They would not break me but instead would make me stronger - building my integrity and character. Learning the history of my community, culture, and ancestors allowed me to see that with persistence and courage there can be change within this country to push the agenda and end the discrepancies that are a result of hate and racism. I understand the pressure placed on my generation to make strides toward the work the likes of Martin Luther King Jr, Rosa Parks, and even John Lewis, completed in their lives. I look at the work done by those great people and it stood on the action of accountability and making sure to call out those who looked to dehumanize, disenfranchise and eliminate the culture that we take so much pride in on a daily basis.

Please understand that although the history of our culture holds a lot of pain, hurt and oppression, I stand tall in the pride that I am an educated black man. I am proud to wear my skin and carry the roots of my culture every day I live. I am not intimidated by the pressure one bit. In fact, I see it as an opportunity for me to give the next generation hope and help them to be proud of who they are as well. I hope that in the near future we can come together as one and make being Black in America easier for the generations to come. We deserve equality like all humans, but I would not trade my experience, culture and life for anything in the world. The challenges we face on a daily basis only make us stronger and allow us to love ourselves even more. I am proud to be a black man and that will never change.

As I got older, other people made it known I was indeed Black.

Caitlin Gooch, Wendell, North Carolina
I imagine when I was born, I didn't know I was Black. I'm sure I didn't know I was a baby either. I just existed. It seemed as I got older, other people made it known I was indeed Black. And not in a celebratory way. They talked about the essence of Blackness as if it were a negative thing. We are loud? I think any group of people would get loud to combat injustice. Or even for a family gathering. We have nappy hair? I've never seen more versatile hairstyles. An afro one day, straight hair the next day and box braids in the middle of the day lol. We have wide noses? A nose is a nose. In the past and even today, Black people have not been able to exist without being told who we are. But those people don't really know us. I didn't realize I was a minority in the horse industry until someone made a comment about it. "Black people don't ride horses," is the most common misconception. It's funny because when people utter this, they don't realize they're talking to 1. An equestrian 2. Someone who grew up riding with hundreds of Black equestrians. We don't live in the perception of who people think we are, we embrace the differences.

Even through all hardship, we still rise.

Ahja Howard, 22, Chicago, Illinois
Growing up in America as a black woman is hard. It's like being the lowest of the low, but it does not fear me. I say this because being Black in America means power. Usually, people with all the power are feared. That is why they try to keep Black people down in America. However, we are unbreakable. I grew up in low-income housing on the West Side of Chicago, and I have accomplished so much in my young life. As a first-generation student, who will be graduating this upcoming May, I have been on executive boards for multiple organizations, mentored young students in the Springfield and on-campus communities, and became a member of the best sorority - Delta Sigma Theta Sorority Inc. Every time Black History Month comes around, I am always proud and reminded that Black is Beautiful. Even through all hardship, we still rise.

We try so hard to say that, "color doesn't matter," but the actions of our society shows that it does.

R'Lee T. Jones, 21, Springfield, Illinois
I grew up in a family where our melanin ranges, so color doesn't matter to me. It wasn't until I sat in my 1st-grade class for show-and-tell, excitedly explaining the details of my trip to my Mom's hometown that I realized I was different. I mentioned that my grandmother's color was close to my teacher and that I, too, must be white. My teacher let me know immediately that wasn't the case. She called my mother later that day and she was livid. It's like we try so hard to say that, "color doesn't matter," but the actions of our government, society and social media shows that it does.

Being Black in America means that I have to work twice as hard and be twice as better to get the same results as my white counterparts and that's exhausting. It's exhausting trying to prove that I've got the same amount of, if more, talent as the white person next to me with the same degree from the same college. But I wouldn't trade being African American for anything in the world. Everything about me is unique. From my hair to my hips, from my high cheekbones to my two-toned lips. There's only a select of us made by God to be His beautiful Black angels and as much as it's a fight for me to have basic human rights, I wouldn't want to be anything else.

I play a part in both white and black worlds.

Josh L. Rowzee, 20, Springfield, Illinois
I grew up differently from my other Black brothers and sisters. I was raised by a single white mother until 8th grade. I never knew how much my skin color mattered until I moved in with a Black family. Before, I only had to worry about making it to school on time. Then, I had to worry about staying alive. At first, I lived in an area where I was one of the only Black boys. Suddenly I moved to an area where there were more Black people than white people. I remember hearing fireworks - they turned out to be gunshots. I remember dropping and rolling at my cousin's house because bullets were flying through her house. But I always managed to keep a smile on my face. I never let the downfalls that were happening around me tear me down; I knew that something needed to be done.

Growing Up in Black America, you do not get the same opportunities when it comes to scholarships or jobs. I want to check both boxes for racial ethnicity because I play a part in both white and black worlds. Growing up, I was either too white or too black. It was never in between. I was the lightest on my father's side and I felt like I did not belong. I was the darkest on my mother's side and I felt like I did not belong. Feeling like an outcast in your own family is not something any child should have to face.

I never thought I would have to protest for Black men and women getting killed by the police until I saw a boy who looked just like me getting killed for just walking down the street in a black hoodie. We need to stop the hate, judgment, and stereotyping toward Black children and adults. We all bleed the same color blood. We need to come together as one and UNITE because I do NOT want future generations to feel the way I did.

I am a hard worker who will continue to fight for my people, continue to fight for representation in all aspects and dedicated to service.

Jayla Stubblefield, 21, O'Fallon, Illinois
I grew up middle class in a two-parent household, as a military kid (both parents served 20 years in the Air Force) in a suburb of Saint Louis (O'Fallon, IL). I grew up great, but it was also very hard for me to fit in. I was in honors classes since Kindergarten. I knew I was destined for greatness, but something was off. Why did nobody in my honors courses look like me? As I got older I was challenged with being too black for the white kids, but not black enough for the black kids. "You talk white" was all I heard in middle school. I always thought that being educated was a good thing, so why did I feel so bad for it? I remember at times wishing I was lighter-skinned or white just so my problems of not fitting in would go away. After all, being the token black girl is tiring. The constant code switching, looks I got in history class when we talked about black history, the confusion when I told people I was from a nice town like O'Fallon. Tired. I was tired. I knew when I was very young, that when I went to college I would be different, rebranding myself if you will. I was so busy hiding behind a mask most of my life, not being 100% myself because I was judged for it.

Fast forward to high school, I continued to be in honors courses, taking dual credits, and excelling in sports and academics. I felt as if I had something to prove, as I need to validate why I deserved to be in honors courses. It wasn't until my senior year when I was applying to colleges that I found my true self. I love to serve the community, I love excelling, but for myself not to prove a point, I love breaking the glass ceiling and setting higher and higher goals and reaching them. That would be my legacy when I went to college.

Now, fast forward to my senior year in college. I am graduating a WHOLE year early. Not a semester early, but a year. I have a job lined up. I am a member of the best sorority, Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. I am a tri-chair on the Social action and Anti-racism task force. All while maintaining a 3.7 GPA. Though growing up was hard, it shaped me into who I am today. I am a hard worker who will continue to fight for my people, continue to fight for representation in all aspects and dedicated to service. I use each day to learn about my history and educate others. That is the legacy I wanted to leave, and I believe I am on the right path to do so. My ultimate goal is to mentor children from less fortunate communities and show them STEM because their schools lack the resources that others have.

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To power a better tomorrow, it's never been more important to harness lessons from the past. History has been unevenly written and unevenly shared, but it is our aim to do better, to make the tent bigger, to understand a more multifaceted perspective. We use our Made By Us Medium presence as a forum for exposing more of our process, our perspectives, and the people doing the day-to-day work behind our projects.

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Our Past. My Future. Growing up Black in America.

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History is a collection of experiences remembered. Young voices share their view on growing up Black, looking to the past and the future.

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As someone who interacts with individuals in a therapy setting, I find that it is important to be educated on trauma informed care. Trauma informed care is defined by ASHA as an approach that ensures the emotional and physical safety of an individual receiving services. To lead with a trauma informed care approach is to acknowledge that the client you are interacting with may have individual or collective trauma. Trauma can affect the mind and body in many ways, and to better understand how to implement trauma informed care, we must first understand what trauma is and how it can impact someone. This article discuss the complexities of trauma, how it can affect you, and potential resources for those who are experiencing the effects of trauma.

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Trauma can happen to anyone at any age. It affects everyone differently. You might have been caught up in the same frightening event as someone else and have a completely different reaction.

What is trauma?

Traumatic events are those that put you or someone close to you at risk of serious harm or death. Our usual ways of coping are overwhelmed, leaving us feeling frightened and unsafe. We can be traumatised through:

one-off events such as an accident, violent attack or natural disaster

ongoing stress such as childhood or intimate partner abuse, bullying, long-term illness or a pandemic such as COVID-19

living in an unstable or unsafe environment

seeing someone else get hurt

How you're affected by trauma is nothing to do with how strong you are. Your reaction can depend on whether you've had previous traumatic experiences, other stresses in your life and how much support you have afterwards.

How might trauma affect me?

When faced with a traumatic event, our bodies react by preparing us to respond. This is an automatic survival mechanism and we have no control over it.

You might have heard of 'fight or flight', but there is a wider range of reactions.

Fight - fighting, being defensive, protesting

Flight - running away, escaping

Freeze - being unable to move or make decisions

Fawn - trying to please or win over someone hurting you

Flop - becoming overwhelmed and unresponsive, feeling disconnected from your body (dissociating), sometimes even fainting

Physically, you might notice your heart beating faster, thoughts racing, breathing becoming quicker and shallower, sight becoming sharper, nausea, cold hands, shaking or dizziness. These all prepare your body to react to danger but can be uncomfortable or frightening if you don't know why they're happening.

Your body will usually go back to normal within half an hour of the event being over.

However, sometimes these feelings continue long after the trauma is over. Our bodies and minds get stuck in this danger mode even when the threat has passed. You may find yourself reliving the event through flashbacks or nightmares, feel constantly on edge, angry, guilty or upset, have panic attacks, feel numb or distant from others or have problems sleeping.

The long-term effects of trauma

Trauma can make you more vulnerable to developing mental health problems. It can also directly cause post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Some people misuse alcohol or drugs, or self-harm to try to cope with difficult memories and emotions.

Depending on how you're affected, trauma may cause difficulties in your daily life. For example, it may be harder to trust people, which can make relationships and friendships harder to maintain. You may struggle to look after yourself, hold down a job or take pleasure in things you used to enjoy. You may have difficulty managing your emotions, and react in ways that feel illogical or over-the-top - because your mind is reacting to the memory of what happened to you, not your current situation.

Trauma can affect your body as well as your mind. Research shows it can increase your risk of developing physical health problems, including long-term illnesses. Speak to your GP about any physical symptoms.

Getting support

It's never too late to get help with the effects of trauma, no matter how long ago it occurred.

There are different types of treatment available for trauma. The right one for you will depend on your symptoms and how they affect you. Speak to your GP to find out what help is available. Some services are starting to follow a trauma-informed approach, which means they should create a space where you feel safe and empowered and won't be retraumatised.

Our page on post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) has more information about the types of treatment you may be offered as well as ideas on how to look after yourself. You won't necessarily have to talk about your traumatic experience if you don't want to: there are ways of helping you that mean you don't have to relive what you went through.

Our pages on panic attacks, self-harm, depression, anxiety, personality disorders, sleep and peer support might also help you.

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Trauma can happen to anyone at any age. It affects everyone differently. You might have been caught up in the same frightening event as someone else and have a completely different reaction. Traumatic events are those that put you or someone close to you at risk of serious harm or death.

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At the end of the day no one person can be fully educated on every little thing. This portion of the forum provides a space where my lingering questions for the world can be posted and hopefully answered as time goes on.

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This portion of the forum provides a space to leave questions, comments, and resources! Thank you for taking the time to learn about my perspectives <3