A Colonial Profession

During my 16-year career as a librarian, I have frequently been passed over for promotions and opportunities, earned considerably less than my white colleagues of the same rank, and faced daily exclusion and microaggressions. Considering these challenges, it is unsurprising that the profession struggles to retain diverse librarians such as myself, despite many well-intentioned initiatives to attract diverse applicants. 

Librarianship has long been one of the whitest professions, with its demographics barely shifting over the last generation. Recently, there has been increased public questioning as to why programs aimed at increasing diversity in the profession have failed to make a significant impact. Much scholarly ink has been spilled to answer why despite serving a diverse audience, libraries not only continue to be staffed primarily by https://librarianbyday.net/2018/03/15/the-unbearable-male-whiteness-of-library-leadership/white people, but its leadership is predominantly white. In fact, library leadership across North America is primarily white men, disproportionate to the ratio of women in librarianship. In The Unbearable Male Whiteness of Library Leadership, Bobbi Newman asserts that males in librarianship not only fill management roles at a much higher percentage than their portion of the profession, but they also tend to dominate as speakers at conferences.

In Rich White Men: What It Means to Be a Leader in America, Garrett Neiman examines the entrenched power and influence of wealthy white men in the United States. The book explores how this demographic has historically shaped leadership and decision-making across various sectors, including politics, business, and culture. Neiman highlights the systemic advantages that affluent white men have, which perpetuate inequality and marginalize other groups.

Ultimately, this is a societal phenomenon that pervades every job sector, not just librarianship. Neiman argues that the dominance of rich white men in leadership roles creates significant barriers for women, people of colour, and other marginalized communities. He discusses the necessity of understanding these dynamics to foster more inclusive and equitable leadership.

What resonates with me most in Niemen’s book is the practice of elevating a few members of a minority group in a perfunctory and superficial way - better known as tokenism. As a performative exercise to convey a false sense of diversity, libraries often discourage racialized staff from challenging existing biases and power structures. I've experienced firsthand how futile even my own faculty association can be when confronted with complaints about the racial pay gap among librarians. It’s also now common practice to exaggerate the extent to which racially marginalized populations are represented in the Library – oftentimes carefully placed photos of racialized students and staff in action on the Library’s website and promotional materials. This “diversity washing” is one of the most dangerous elements of DEI.  

Some of the structures are so inherently embedded in the colonialist structures of which libraries were created that it’s fooling us into thinking the profession can change overnight.  But I do have hope for the next generation of librarians and archivists who can begin a transformation for the better.    The plethora of scholarship published this past decade has been impressive and will only continue to grow and with it, hopefully, the way and means of how the next generation of librarians are taught at LIS programs.

LiterASIAN Festival: 30 Years in the Making

2024 LiterASIAN Festival group photo

LiterASIAN Festival just wrapped up.  More than fifteen years ago, LiterASIAN was a dream when a few of us at the Asian Canadian Writers' Workshop (ACWW) threw the idea around the table over dinner.   We were aware that the odds were against us and difficult to pull off, as none of us had ever organized a festival. We were used to running Ricepaper Magazine, and as the magazine was winding down its print run, we wondered whether a literary festival could exist in the competitive Canadian literary festival circuit. It’s incredibly hard work to recruit volunteers, invite authors, and write grants to fund a festival.   As a librarian, I had put on some events, but nothing on such a grand scale. So we began with a small two-day festival in Vancouver’s Chinatown with limited experience but a lot of aspirations.  I recall it as a dank, rainy November evening, not exactly the atmosphere you’d want to be for a festival’s beginnings, but it all worked out in the end.   That was more than a decade ago.  Things turned out for the best.

LiterASIAN is now well-known across literary circles as a celebration of the contributions of Asian Canadian and racialized writers.  But why did we do it?  LiterASIAN stems from a need to create a dedicated platform for Asian Canadian authors, whose works often explore themes of identity, migration, and cultural heritage. By providing this platform, LiterASIAN not only showcases the vast tapestry of Asian Canadian literature but also fosters a sense of community among writers, readers, and literary enthusiasts.  Writers often exist in silos and isolation.  The festival's inclusive and celebratory nature encourages established and emerging writers to participate, thereby nurturing new talent and ensuring the continuity of Asian Canadian literary traditions.

We’ve had writers such as SKY Lee, Evelyn Lau, Madeleine Thien, Fred Wah, Joy Kogawa, Simon Choa Johnston, Jack Wang, Jamie Liew, Wayne Ng, Larissa Lai, Rita Wong, C.E. Gatchalian, Philip Huynh, Jovanni Sy, Janie Chang, Jen Sookfong Lee, Terry Watada, Catherine Hernandez, Paul Yee, Kevin Chong, Doretta Lau, Souvankham Thammavongsa, Denise Chong, Terry Woo, and many, many more.

My predecessor and friend, Jim Wong-Chu, the Festival Director who started it all

The festival typically features an array of activities designed to engage and inspire. Book launches are a staple, allowing authors to introduce their latest works to an eager audience. These events are often accompanied by readings, where authors share excerpts from their books, providing a glimpse into their narratives and stylistic approaches. Panel discussions delve into various topics relevant to both the literary world and the Asian Canadian experience, such as representation, the publishing industry's challenges, and literature's role in social justice.

Workshops are another key component of LiterASIAN, catering to writers at different stages of their careers. These sessions, led by experienced authors and industry professionals, cover a wide range of topics from writing techniques to navigating the business aspects of publishing. They provide invaluable insights and practical advice, empowering participants to hone their craft and pursue their literary ambitions more confidently.

Beyond the scheduled events, LiterASIAN offers a unique networking and community-building opportunity. Writers and readers can connect, share experiences, and build relationships beyond the festival. This sense of camaraderie and mutual support is a hallmark of LiterASIAN, reflecting its mission to cultivate a supportive environment for audiences to talk about Asian Canadian literature.

The festival also serves an educational purpose, raising awareness about the contributions and experiences of Asian Canadians through literature. By bringing these stories to the forefront, LiterASIAN challenges stereotypes and broadens the understanding of Asian Canadian identities. It celebrates the multiplicity of voices within the community, highlighting stories that might otherwise remain unheard.

The success of LiterASIAN has really been 30 years in the making: years of building to what it is today since it was founded 30 years ago.  In my many years involved in making LiterASIAN, I’ve realized it’s more than just a literary festival; it is a celebration of culture, identity, and storytelling. Through its diverse programming and community-focused approach, it plays a crucial role in promoting Asian Canadian literature and fostering a vibrant, inclusive literary community.

The Dreaded Golden Handcuffs of Academia

“Not All Staying is the Same: Unpacking Retention and Turnover in Academic Libraries” by Samantha Guss, Sojourna Cunningham and Jennifer Stout is a fascinating piece that explores some of what the golden handcuff by delving into the intricate dynamics of why academic librarians choose to stay in their positions despite being dissatisfied or unhappy.

The authors extend beyond the conventional exploration of reasons for job satisfaction and fulfillment, dissecting the complexities of what drives individuals to remain in roles where their needs are not met or where they experience toxicity or discontent.

Part of the conundrum is that the academic librarian job market is challenging to navigate, characterized by job scarcity and fierce competition for positions. Additionally, geographical constraints and familial responsibilities often limit the mobility of librarians, making it difficult to pursue opportunities elsewhere. Career advancement within the academic library sphere may necessitate relocating or changing organizations, posing further challenges, especially for dual-career couples.

The concept of "job lock" highlights how employees often feel constrained to remain in their current roles due to various factors, including non-portable benefits, limited job availability, and emotional connections to their workplace and colleagues. Vocational awe and passion for the profession also contribute to librarians' reluctance to leave, despite facing exploitation or dissatisfaction.

Often, the triggers that prompt librarians to consider leaving their jobs come down to toxic work environments, bullying, and low morale. Toxic leadership and organizational culture are identified as significant factors driving turnover in academic libraries. While many studies focus on reasons for leaving, this research investigates the transition from voluntary to involuntary staying, where librarians remain in their roles despite experiencing discontent or toxicity.

Through qualitative interviews with academic librarians, the authors uncover the journey from voluntary to involuntary staying, shedding light on the coping mechanisms employed by individuals to navigate challenging work environments. Functional coping strategies, such as seeking validation and setting boundaries, are contrasted with dysfunctional strategies, including disengagement and resentment. The nuanced interplay between individual and organizational perspectives on coping mechanisms is explored, emphasizing the complex nature of retention and turnover in academic libraries.

This piece provides valuable insights into the factors influencing academic librarians' decisions to stay in their positions, despite facing challenges or dissatisfaction. This piece certainly resonates with me. An academic librarian colleague once raised his wrists showing his imaginary shackles and said he was wearing the golden handcuffs, explaining the discord of the job but too comfortable with the stability to quit their tenured position. As I grapple with how I am doing in my own career, I don’t see the shackles as heavy anymore. I enjoy the work tremendously, and I’ve learned to grow with the position and the institution. Things change all the time, and if we don’t change as well, we stay stagnant and hence the “job lock” becomes more unbearable.