Why I think my first male White PhD Supervisor Hated My Anti-Racist Research

Pursuing a PhD is often romanticized as a journey of intellectual discovery, a time when researchers are encouraged to push boundaries and make meaningful contributions to their field. But for many students of colour—myself included—this journey is fraught with obstacles rooted in systemic racism, institutional fragility, and the personal biases of those who hold power in academia. When I chose to focus my research on anti-racism in higher education, I didn’t anticipate just how much resistance I would encounter from the very person meant to guide and support me: my white PhD supervisor.

This resistance was not just an academic disagreement. It reflected a deeper discomfort with the subject matter itself—an unwillingness to confront the realities of race, power, and privilege in higher education. In sharing my story, I hope to shed light on the broader challenges faced by Black students and scholars and the impact of institutional complicity on our research, well-being, and futures.

The Challenges for Students of Colour in Academia

Higher education has often positioned itself as a space for enlightenment and progress. However, for students of colour, the reality can be starkly different. Universities remain sites of exclusion, where the lived experiences of Black and other marginalized students are routinely invalidated, overlooked, or tokenized. For many of us, navigating academia means battling microaggressions, systemic inequities, and an unspoken expectation to assimilate into predominantly white institutional cultures.

As a Black PhD student researching anti-racism, these challenges became especially pronounced. My research sought to interrogate the ways in which universities perpetuate and normalize racism under the guise of neutrality. Yet, I was met with resistance from my supervisor at every turn. From dismissing my methodology as "biased" to questioning the validity of my findings, their feedback often felt less like constructive critique and more like a deliberate attempt to undermine my work.

The Precarity of Black Scholars

One of the most glaring issues in higher education is the precarity of Black scholars. Black academics are severely underrepresented in tenured positions, with many occupying temporary or precarious roles. This lack of representation has a cascading effect: without Black faculty in leadership positions, there is often little advocacy for issues affecting Black students.

This precariousness also means that the burden of supporting students of color often falls disproportionately on Black faculty who are already stretched thin. These scholars are not only expected to produce rigorous research but also to act as mentors, advocates, and role models in ways that their white colleagues rarely are. This "invisible labor" is rarely acknowledged or compensated, further entrenching the inequities that Black academics face.

As a student, I felt this absence deeply. While I had supportive peers and external mentors, the lack of institutional backing from someone in my immediate academic circle left me feeling isolated. My supervisor’s repeated attempts to downplay the significance of my work mirrored a broader institutional failure to prioritize anti-racist initiatives beyond surface-level commitments.

The Impacts on Research and Black Students

This resistance doesn’t just affect individual researchers—it has far-reaching consequences for the research itself and for the students it aims to support. Anti-racist research is inherently disruptive. It challenges deeply entrenched systems of power and calls for a reckoning that many institutions are unwilling to confront. When supervisors and institutions resist this work, they effectively stifle innovation and perpetuate the very systems of exclusion they claim to oppose.

For Black students, this lack of support can be deeply demoralizing. It reinforces the idea that our voices and experiences are unwelcome in academic spaces. It’s no coincidence that Black students face higher attrition rates in graduate programs. The constant need to justify our existence, our research, and our worth takes a toll on our mental health and academic progress.

In my case, the emotional and intellectual labour of defending my research left me drained. I spent countless hours crafting careful arguments to pre-emptively counter the criticisms I knew I would face. Meanwhile, the energy I could have devoted to deepening my analysis or expanding my research was instead spent navigating institutional barriers.

The Cost of Institutional Complicity

My supervisor’s hostility toward my research also reflected a broader issue within academia: the institutional complicity in maintaining whiteness as the norm. Universities often frame themselves as progressive spaces, yet they rely on structures and practices that uphold systemic inequities. Diversity initiatives are frequently reduced to performative gestures, while meaningful efforts to dismantle racism are met with resistance.

This complicity has a direct impact on students. When institutions fail to support anti-racist research or to prioritize the well-being of Black students and scholars, they reinforce a culture of exclusion. The message is clear: you can be here, but only on our terms.

A Call for Change

Reflecting on my journey, I’ve come to understand that my supervisor’s resistance wasn’t just about my research—it was about their inability to confront their own privilege and complicity. Anti-racist research demands accountability, and accountability is uncomfortable. But discomfort is a necessary part of growth.

To truly support Black students and scholars, universities must move beyond performative gestures and commit to systemic change. This includes:

·  Increasing the representation of Black faculty in tenured and leadership positions.

·  Providing tangible support for anti-racist research, including funding and institutional backing.

·  Acknowledging and addressing the invisible labour placed on Black scholars.

·  Creating mechanisms to hold supervisors and institutions accountable for their treatment of marginalized students.

Conclusion

My experience as a Black PhD student researching anti-racism was both a struggle and a revelation. It exposed the deep-rooted challenges that students of colour face in academia and underscored the urgent need for change. Despite the resistance I encountered, I remain committed to this work—not because it is easy, but because it is necessary.

To fellow researchers facing similar challenges: know that your work matters. Seek allies who value your contributions, and remember that the resistance you face is often a reflection of the transformative power of your research. Together, we can continue to challenge the systems that seek to silence us and create a more equitable future for those who come after us.

(from an anonymous student)