The Next Chapter

As of Monday, January 15, I am no longer a faculty member at Brown University. I made the very difficult decision to resign from my position as an Assistant Professor of American Studies and Ethnic Studies in November, after nine years on campus.

I’ve held in the back of my mind that I needed to write this post and to make some kind of formal announcement, because I’m still looking for what comes next, and I know our beautiful community and network might hold the key. But I’ve struggled, and am struggling, to figure out what I need or want to say.

During the height of the pandemic, when I lived alone, and would go weeks without speaking to another human in real life, I started thinking about apocalypse. Not the apocalypse, but apocalypse as a world ending that can happen again and again. Native studies scholars talk about the fact that Native people have already survived apocalypse. Our worlds ended with the arrival of settlers and the onset of the structure of settler colonialism. I teach this concept to my students, to help them understand what survival really means. We survived the end of the world. We are remaking the new world daily.

During those years alone in my apartment I would wonder how long it had been since I had seen another Native person. Another Cherokee person would be even longer. I thought about what my ancestors would think. This, to them, would be an apocalypse. A lack of community so deep and so absolute that I resorted to having long conversations with my 16 pound dog. That apocalyptic loneliness extended to my research, to my teaching, and to all of my work on campus. There was never someone I could turn to who truly and fully understood.

Ultimately I knew I had to resign because I was exhausted and lonely, and my mental and physical health had begun to be impacted in ways I could not ignore. For years I’ve felt adrift, unrooted, and have been left longing to do the work that I know I am capable of, that serves my spirit, and brings me back to the relationships, people, and lands I care so deeply about. I’m leaving not to turn away from academia, but to turn toward the creative endeavors that have sustained me for the last decade. I want to continue to weave art and words to build future worlds—hopefully in more community and alongside others who share the same dreams. I am ready to do the work of building something new.

I, as far as I know, was most likely the first tenure track Native faculty member in the history of Brown, which opened in 1764. There are perhaps some caveats to that—first tribally enrolled American Indian faculty member with ties to the Indigenous community on campus, or something equally convoluted. I add these caveats because I don’t want to erase any faculty member’s identity who I don’t or didn’t know. Regardless of how we parse it, in 259 years, the number of Native tenure track faculty members is hovering around one.

I take no pride in being the first. Until two years ago, I thought I was the second, and that unraveling continues to haunt me. I am a Cherokee person, who due to colonial policies of removal, boarding schools, land flooding, and intergenerational traumas, ended up being raised in very white suburbia in southern California. I had access to the best public schools, the privileges of whiteness, and elite college and graduate education. I had all of the tools of western success, and I still was unable to navigate life as the one of the only Native faculty members on campus. I’m still working through some level of shame at that statement. I’ve watched my friends and colleagues at other institutions find their paths as the only one, why couldn’t I? I kept thinking if I could just get to the next milestone–through the postdoc, getting hired, reappointment, the book, tenure–it would all fall into place. But with each step it just kept getting harder for me, and I felt farther and farther behind.

I’m still reflecting and processing my time on College Hill, and I’m sure I’ll have more to say later when I have more distance. But I know I am leaving grateful for my time at Brown, especially for the fellow faculty members who believed in me and my work, fought tirelessly for my hiring, and supported me along the way. I am so so proud of the hundreds of students I had the privilege of working with and learning from, you are brilliant and beautiful and give me so much hope for our collective futures. I am also proud of the work we did to build Native and Indigenous Studies in the past decade, building on decades of work before, and I hope that NAISI continues to build and grow. I’m grateful for the work of those on campus who hold all of those moving Native studies pieces together for all of us.

I wrote a letter to the Native students directly, but I’ll quote a portion of it here in hopes it is useful to Native students on other campuses:

I know Brown is often a hard place to be a Native student, but I want to remind you that you come from legacies of strength and love, and the problem is always the university and never you. For those of you who have taken my classes you know I’m fond of reminding you to refuse the university, to be in but not of, and to reassemble the colonizing parts into decolonizing contraptions (shout out to A Third University is Possible and Sandy Grande). Creating our classroom spaces where we could read and engage Indigenous scholarship, laugh, cry, and be our full Indigenous selves was the highlight of my time as a professor and what sustained me, and I hope you’ll be able to create and find more of those spaces, because you deserve them. 

So, for now, I’m going to rest. I’m going to take time to remember who I am and re-find my voice as a writer. I’m going to give myself space to create without expectations. I’m going to look for joy and laughter and rebuild the friendships and relationships I let crumble and that I’ve deeply missed. I’m going to travel and visit the pandemic babies turned toddlers turned preschoolers I haven’t met yet. I’m going to continue to learn Cherokee language and seek out Cherokee community. I’m going to look for otherwise and possibility. I’m going to nourish my body and spirit.

While I’m still figuring out next steps, and have a few exciting projects and endeavors that are going to hold me over for the next few months, I am looking for any opportunities and new directions. I’m also not opposed to another faculty position in the future if it’s the right fit.

I would love to get back into public writing—we’re in an incredible Native representation in media and fashion moment and I would love to write about it for any outlet, or whatever other musings anyone might be interested in. If you’re looking for pitches or have an idea for me, please reach out. My clips are here.

I have experience in podcasting/audio storytelling; qualitative research and Indigenous research methods/research consulting; issues in Native higher ed/college access; some curatorial experience with hopes for more; experience teaching Ethnic Studies, CRT, Native studies, and education courses at the undergrad and graduate level (I truly love teaching and will miss it); experience in Native youth programming; and an emerging visual art practice.

Finally, I love coming to speak to campuses or organizations–virtually or in person–about issues of Native representation, Native students in higher ed/Native students in college admissions processes, limitations of land acknowledgements, Indigenous studies or methods 101, or anything else that might be helpful for creating environments where Native people can thrive. I also am happy to come talk about my book Notable Native People (bonus points if you let me bring one of the people featured in the book!). If you’re interested in having me come speak, please reach out to my amazing speakers’ bureau Speak Out.

My personal website is adriennekeene.com, my current academic CV can be found there as well on the “Teaching and Research” page. There is a contact form that I’ll be checking regularly.

Wado to everyone who has followed and supported me through all the stages of my academic journey, some of you have been here for over ten years, and I’m so appreciative and maybe a little confused that you still care what I’m up to and what I have to say.

To the next chapter!

With love, excitement, and anticipation,

AK