Exploring and Navigating Power Dynamics: A Case Study of Systemic Barriers to Inclusion and Equity for Black Women in Social Work Education

Abstract

This paper explores the complex power dynamics of UK social work higher education through an autoethnographic account of a Black woman course leader’s experiences over a period of two years, focusing on issues related to race, internalized oppression, and class. Drawing on Critical Race Theory (CRT), narrative analysis, and lived experience, it examines how systemic inequities manifest through three interlinked themes: (a) academic contrapower harassment (ACPH), (b) internalized oppression and toxic team dynamics, and (c) the interplay of harassment, institutional failure, managerial inaction, and the marginalization of social work as a discipline. This study illustrates how the intersectionality of multiple identities—namely, race, gender, and professional identity—impacts career progression, well-being, and institutional inclusion. This study examines the tensions between social work’s ethical foundations and performance-driven academic environments, advocating for systemic and policy interventions to stimulate institutional reform and cultivate a more equitable culture that enhances educational outcomes and, ultimately, improves social work practice.

1. Introduction

Today, despite the stated intentions of government and institutions to enact reform based on the principles of equality, diversity, and inclusion,1 Black women in academia continue to face multiple and compounding forms of discrimination, including exclusion from key decision-making processes (Ali 2016; Arday 2018; Weekes et al. 2024), microaggressions (Hook et al. 2016), (Bryan 2001; Pyke 2010), and professional isolation (Croisdale-Appleby 2014; Showunmi 2023). These challenges are exacerbated by institutional responses to grievances that are frequently inadequate, delayed, or dismissive (Azhar and McCutcheon 2021; Williams et al. 2022), leaving employees vulnerable to further harm.

As a Black British-born Caribbean woman working in higher education, despite being the most academically and practice-qualified individual in my department, I personally experienced such discrimination, in the form of microaggressions, tokenization, and assumptions about my capabilities based on my race, enacted through mechanisms such as team dynamics, managerial interactions, student hostility, and institutional processes. These experiences have hindered my career progression and reflect the systemic inequalities prevalent in academic spaces, illustrative of broader patterns of racialized, gendered, and professional marginalization (Croisdale-Appleby 2014). This autoethnographic case study methodology, grounded in my lived experience, examines these dynamics, highlighting the persistence of systemic inequities related to race, gender, and professional identity within UK higher education.

The analysis and conclusions of this case study are informed by a combination of conceptual perspectives. Critical Race Theory (CRT) spotlights the significance of race and racism in structuring social systems (Delgado and Stefancic 2017), and supports the use of a personal narrative as a legitimate form of knowledge production, particularly for those whose voices are often excluded from dominant discourses. Another key analytic lens (Lampman et al. 2016; Flaherty 2018; Christensen et al. 2020; White and Christensen 2020) is Academic Contrapower Harassment (ACPH), a phenomenon where students direct harassment toward academic staff, which is especially relevant in a consumer-driven educational landscape that often prioritizes student satisfaction over staff wellbeing. Further, the concept of internalized oppression helps to explain how marginalized individuals can, under systemic pressure, perpetuate harm within their own communities (Hwang 2021).

The findings of this case study are not presented as abstract issues, but as deeply felt and materially consequential aspects of my everyday professional life. By positioning myself as both the researcher and Subject, I aim to illustrate how power dynamics operate not only through policy, processes, and hierarchy but also through interpersonal interactions and institutional inaction. Together, the frameworks illuminate the complex, interconnecting forces at play in my experience of academia: a space where the principles of intersectional equity and inclusive practice are often undermined by institutional apathy and entrenched discriminatory norms (Crenshaw 1989).

This paper seeks to better understand how these forms of marginalization are reproduced and sustained. It aims to contribute to the development of more inclusive institutional mindsets and structures, ultimately supporting reforms that deliver genuine inclusion and equity, particularly for Black women in academia.

2. Methodology

This study draws upon an autoethnographic methodology, using personal narrative to explore how systemic inequities are experienced and sustained within academic institutions. Through reflection on my own professional journey, the case study critically examines the structural, managerial, and interpersonal mechanisms that have shaped my experiences as a Black, female academic in social work higher education. By focusing on my own experiences rather than comparing multiple experiences, this approach enables a personal yet theoretically informed exploration of power dynamics and marginalization. It is an approach that draws on the effectiveness of the technique employed by P.J Williams in her book (The Alchemy of Race and Rights 991), which uses autobiographical vignettes to expose how law erases or distorts Black experiences.

The guiding research question is as follows: How do structural and institutional factors shape workplace inequities, particularly in relation to race, gender, and power dynamics? To address this, this study applies narrative analysis to my lived experiences, identifying recurring patterns and themes that reveal broader social forces at play. Narrative analysis not only captures what happened but also focuses on how it felt and what it reveals about underlying power structures within academia (Priya 2021).

Critical Race Theory (CRT), as outlined above, provides the theoretical framework for the study. It offers a lens through which to explore the limitations of dominant institutional narratives and to foreground the voices of those often silenced in academic discourse (Delgado and Stefancic 2017; Barnett and Hilton 2023). CRT helps make sense of the structural inequities encountered in my professional environment, particularly those related to race and power.

The identification of themes was informed by patterns that emerged repeatedly through reflective engagement with personal episodes. Three key themes, which are discussed in greater depth below, were selected by combining closely related experiences to ensure focused and meaningful conclusions. These themes are (1) Academic Contrapower Harassment (ACPH), (2) internalized oppression and toxic team dynamics, and (3) the interplay of harassment, institutional failure, managerial interaction, and the marginalization of social work as a discipline. These themes serve as conceptual anchors in the analysis that follows, providing a structure for examining how various forces collectively shape exclusion and resistance in the workplace.

This approach, rooted in subjectivity and reflection, allows for a detailed and critical account of professional experience, without generalizing or abstracting from it. It enables the framing of lived realities as the basis of analytical insight and institutional critique, aligning with CRT’s emphasis on experiential knowledge as a vital source of understanding in social research. Such an approach is particularly suited to this study because it allows in-depth, multi-faceted explorations of complex issues in their real-life settings (Yin 2009, 2014). Spry (2001) identifies this critique of the ‘situatedness of self’, which is a process of describing and analysing personal experiences. Denzin (2009) and Taylor et al. (2023) argue that such approaches enhance the understanding of cultural experiences while reinforcing the legitimacy of subjective narratives in academic research.

3. Findings

This section examines three interrelated themes that emerged through reflective narrative analysis of my professional experiences in social work higher education. Each theme illustrates how structural and institutional forces manifest in everyday academic life, shaping workplace interactions and professional identity. In keeping with the autoethnographic methodology, the themes are first examined through descriptive accounts, drawn directly from lived experience, and then critically reviewed using relevant conceptual frameworks. This approach is intended to convey not only what occurred but also how these events impacted me, and to offer insight into how such experiences reflect broader patterns of marginalization in academia.

3.1. Academic Contrapower Harassment (ACPH)

A central feature of my experience in social work academia was the persistent undermining of my authority by students, through behaviors that align with the concept of ACPH and colleagues (Wayne 2019). Traditionally, students are seen as holding less institutional power than educators; however, ACPH describes scenarios where students exercise disproportionate influence to challenge, disrupt, or intimidate staff (DeSouza 2011; Lampman et al. 2016).

Shortly after I assumed my role, I was subjected to a series of behaviors that, while initially appearing as classroom difficulties, quickly escalated into formal challenges to my authority and professionalism. These behaviors began with relatively low-level disruptions, with students complaining about grades, snatching handouts during class, making derogatory remarks, and refusing to participate in discussions. While none of these incidents, in isolation, appeared extraordinary, the frequency and tone of these behaviors created an atmosphere of tension and hostility. The situation intensified when one student, having been formally reported for academic misconduct (plagiarism), retaliated by filing a complaint against me. This was not only an internal complaint but was also escalated to an external referral to the regulatory body.

The impact of this development on me was considerable. Despite clear evidence of the student’s academic misconduct—later upheld by an Academic Misconduct Hearing—the complaint against me triggered a prolonged investigation. What was perhaps more damaging than the complaint itself was the institutional response. Throughout the process, there was a notable absence of meaningful support from leadership. There were no offers of reassurance, no visible effort to question the credibility of the complaint, and little recognition of the impact this process was having on my wellbeing and professional standing. The experience left me feeling vulnerable, isolated, and exposed to reputational harm. While I took precautionary steps such as asking colleagues to sit in on every lecture with said student, such that they acted as witness to my interactions, these efforts did little to offset the broader institutional reluctance to challenge student behaviour or defend other staff members facing harassment; illustrated by my manager stating there were no resources to support this course of action.

This situation illustrates what research identifies as the disproportionate targeting of educators from marginalized groups in cases of ACPH—particularly women and Black educators—whose authority is more frequently questioned or contested (Social Work England 2022). The broader institutional context of this incident further amplified its effects. In a higher education environment, increasingly influenced by consumerist values and market-driven priorities, students are positioned as customers whose satisfaction is paramount. This shift has had serious consequences for academic integrity and staff welfare. As Shaffakat et al. (2024) observe, universities are often more concerned with student retention and reputation management than with upholding principles of fairness or academic standards.

Within this climate, the reluctance of managers to push back against student complaints reinforces a culture in which students are rarely held accountable for disruptive or damaging conduct. My experience was characteristic of this dynamic. Managerial responses appeared more focused on mitigating potential reputational damage than on investigating the complaint with diligence or objectivity. This tendency aligns with critiques of grievance handling within higher education, where institutional bias often favours the complainant, especially when the staff member in question is from an under-represented group (Ugiagbe-Green and Ernsting 2022).

The emotional and psychological toll of this process was considerable. The persistent dismissal of my concerns by management and the failure to recognise the legitimacy of my experience resulted in growing psychological distress and a profound sense of professional isolation. Pearson and Athota (2018) note that such effects are not uncommon, with targets of workplace harassment frequently reporting long-term impacts on mental health, confidence, and professional identity. This dynamic also resonates with Williams’ (1991) critique of how power is exercised in racialized contexts. As she notes, power does not always flow from top to bottom; individuals in ostensibly “lower status” positions—such as students in the case of ACHP—can still weaponize racial hierarchies against Black professionals. My experience reflected this reversal, where my authority was undermined not merely by formal hierarchy, but informally, colleagues sided with the student by not challenging behavior and scapegoating me, alongside racialized power implicitly endorsed by institutional inaction.

These experiences emphasise the complex interplay between student power, institutional priorities, and identity-based vulnerabilities in academia. ACPH, as demonstrated in this case, is not simply about student complaints or disagreements; it is about the ways in which power is redistributed in a system that increasingly devalues academic authority while failing to protect those most at risk of being undermined.

3.2. Internalized Oppression and Toxic Team Dynamics

While student hostility posed a significant challenge, the difficulties I faced were compounded by harmful dynamics within the academic team itself. One of the most disheartening and isolating aspects of my experience was the emergence of hostility from Black colleagues, behaviour I identified as a manifestation of internalized oppression (Bryan 2001; Khoo 2010; Pyke 2010). Rather than forming a source of solidarity or mutual understanding, these relationships were marked by suspicion, exclusion, and, in some cases, overt aggression. These dynamics were often personal in nature, but reflected broader structural issues around race, identity, and hierarchy in academic institutions.

A particularly painful instance involved a Black colleague accusing me of favoritism toward a White team member, claiming, “You’ll soon see what she’s really like,” and calling the colleague a “liar.” When I challenged this accusation—defending my White colleague’s professional integrity—the exchange escalated, and I became the target of further resentment. In another deeply troubling incident, two African-born Black colleagues referred to me using the term “house n****r” during a meeting. The use of such a racially charged and historically loaded slur shocked me and underscored how internalized oppression can perpetuate the same hierarchies and exclusion that racialized individuals face externally. This behaviour reflects what Hwang (2021) describes as lateral hostility, a defensive mechanism arising when individuals internalize societal prejudices and redirect them toward peers perceived as threatening or non-conforming. In this context, my refusal to conform to group allegiances based on shared identity became a source of tension and aggression.

Despite these attacks, I consistently acted in accordance with my professional values, refusing to align myself with colleagues based on shared ethnicity when their actions were clearly professionally or ethically inappropriate. I maintained my commitment to fairness and equity, even when this came at personal cost. Attempts to raise these issues with management, however, were largely ineffective. Managers seemed ill-equipped or unwilling to grasp the complex dynamics at play, particularly the idea that discrimination can also occur within marginalised groups. Their failure to offer meaningful support or structural intervention left the burden of navigating these fractured relationships entirely on me. This managerial failure reflects a tendency to frame prejudice narrowly, i.e., as only operating between majority and minority groups, thereby erasing the nuanced ways internalized oppression reinforces institutional inequities. The experience also clearly illustrates the pressure on Black professionals to suppress or fragment aspects of their identity to fit within dominant institutional cultures, as described by Williams (1991).

Compounding these experiences was the toxic team culture into which I had been recruited. These dynamics, though not new, were long entrenched within the institution. The team was marked by longstanding interpersonal divisions, resistance to change, and a lack of unity, features commonly associated with toxic workplace environments in academia (Keashly and Neuman 2010). Meetings were frequently confrontational, and staff interactions were shaped by cliques, historical grudges, and power plays. Professional boundaries were often ignored, and attempts at constructive dialogue were undermined by distrust and defensiveness (Wayne 2019).

As a result of this, I sought to shift the culture toward one of greater cooperation and accountability. I initiated team-building activities, including away days, and held one-on-one meetings with colleagues to resolve tensions. Yet these efforts were not met with appreciation or reciprocity. As Kircher et al. (2011) observe, without institutional recognition of underlying structural imbalances, even the sincerest efforts to build a collaborative culture can be misinterpreted as threats to existing hierarchies. In my case, all attempts at resolution were perceived by some as personal criticism. Rather than improving relations, they sometimes intensified resistance and led to further marginalization. This dynamic highlights how efforts to lead or mediate within a toxic environment are often read through the lens of existing power dynamics, especially when initiated by individuals from marginalized backgrounds. The perception of my actions as disruptive, rather than restorative, reinforced the racialized and gendered framing of leadership in academic institutions.

This convergence of internalized oppression and toxic team dynamics, described above, demonstrates how structural inequities can be reproduced within marginalized groups and how institutional inaction compounds their effects. Rather than challenging unprofessional or discriminatory conduct, managerial responses were either to support the only White staff member or in favour of maintaining the status quo, leaving me isolated in my efforts to promote fairness and cohesion. These dynamics reinforced both my sense of professional vulnerability and the broader institutional failure to create an inclusive, supportive working environment.

3.3. The Interplay of Harassment, Institutional Failure, Managerial Interactions and the Marginalization of Social Work

Throughout my time at the university, I experienced a pattern of harassment and institutional failure that not only undermined my professional standing but also reflected broader systemic issues within academia and social work education. These experiences unfolded through a combination of hostile interpersonal interactions, inadequate grievance handling, managerial dishonesty in relation to the presentation of data for a regulatory inspection, and the persistent devaluation of both my contributions and the academic subject I represented. The cumulative effect of these patterns was the erosion of my professional authority and wellbeing, and a deepening sense of institutional neglect.

One early and formative incident occurred when I was (falsely) accused of shouting at a colleague. I was summoned to an impromptu meeting—without any prior notice or opportunity to prepare—and reprimanded based on this totally unevidenced claim. I was later able to produce email evidence that directly contradicted the accusation. However, rather than acknowledging the dishonesty behind the allegation, management sought to downplay the incident, minimizing the damage (to myself and the team) it had caused and offering no apology, or acknowledging any accountability. This lack of institutional support left me feeling exposed and emotionally distressed. As a result, I turned to a colleague outside the team for support, an action that itself underscored the hostility I faced from within my immediate work environment. The incident echoed findings from Lewis (2004) and Khoo (2010), both of whom emphasize how false accusations, when handled without due process, can intensify workplace victimization and psychological strain.

This experience was not an exception. As the environment became increasingly toxic, I filed a formal grievance outlining the discrimination and lack of managerial action I had encountered. However, rather than engaging with the substance of my concerns, managers responded by warning that counterclaims might be made against me, in an attempt, it seemed, to discourage me from pursuing the issue. The investigation by HR took six months to complete, and it ultimately dismissed my grievance. Instead of proposing any meaningful resolution, management framed the incidents as misunderstandings and subtly shifted the blame onto me. Their response failed to acknowledge the discriminatory nature of what had occurred, reflecting a wider institutional tendency to victimize those who raise concerns, rather than interrogate the systems and behaviours that give rise to them. The experience left me with a clear sense that the university was attempting to create a basis for constructive dismissal, reflecting what Keashly and Neuman (2010) describe as institutional gaslighting, in which structural failings are reframed as interpersonal miscommunications, absolving the organisation of responsibility.

In addition to this, I encountered repeated marginalization in my interactions with managers. Despite my qualifications and professional experience, I was frequently excluded from key meetings and decisions. On one occasion, I was warned to “be mindful” of how I treated a White colleague, even though I had a solid working relationship with that individual. The implication that I might be hostile based on racial alignment was unfounded and offensive. I had explained to managers that my alignment with certain colleagues stemmed from shared UK-born, working-class experiences, not simply race. Their refusal to understand this nuance revealed a deeper institutional ignorance about how identity is experienced and performed. As I shared during a grievance meeting, “they assumed that because we were all Black, we were on one side,” conveying the way in which management tends to view team dynamics through a simplistic and reductive lens, by dismissing the complexities of cultural and professional affiliations (Croisdale-Appleby 2014; Crenshaw 1989; Social Work England 2022).

My professional expertise was also routinely disregarded. As Course Lead, I had shared responsibility with the Professional Lead for ensuring the programme met the standards set by Social Work England. In this role, I identified several critical shortcomings, including the absence of modules on Human Growth and Development (Lifespan), Readiness for Direct Practice, poor recruitment procedures, and inconsistent staff accountability. I therefore conducted an audit of the course, and my findings were supported by both an internal peer and the programme’s external examiner. Yet, despite this evidence, my concerns were ignored by senior leadership, and no remedial action was taken. Instead, management delayed action until just before the three-year reapproval inspection, scrambling to address the issues in superficial ways. Even then, my name was added to documents I had neither authored nor endorsed. When I objected to the additional of my name without consent, I was told by my manager, “I put your name on it because you’re the social worker and the Course Lead.” This disregard for professional integrity typified the institution’s approach, favouring optics and expediency over professional practice and true accountability.

These incidents culminated in the course ultimately being closed by the university. After the inspection, both I and the Black Professional Lead were excluded from post-inspection meetings with White managers and regulators, and the decision to shut down the programme was taken before the official report had even been received. This action was shrouded in a lack of transparency and led to staff redundancies. It was a painful affirmation of the power dynamics that shape institutional life, and of the job precarities faced by Black women operating within it. The episode mirrored broader critiques of systemic racism and misogynoir within higher education, where institutional power is rarely exercised in ways that protect or aid the progression of marginalized staff (Ugiagbe-Green and Ernsting 2022).

These events also contributed to what I now acknowledge as racial trauma, an accumulation of mental pressures rooted in the intersection of racism, gender, and professional discrimination. The combination of microaggressions, exclusion, and the repeated dismissal of my concerns constituted what Khoo (2010) has called “academic mobbing.” These attacks, often subtle and both managerial and peer-driven, undermined my mental wellbeing, professional identity, and my ability to carry out my role efficiently. Despite my efforts to do so, the absence of meaningful institutional accountability left me increasingly disempowered. I came to understand that my experience was not simply the result of difficult personalities or isolated incidents, but the outcome of structural conditions that consistently devalued both me as a Black woman and the discipline of social work more broadly. This mirrors Williams’ (1991) reflection on how ethical values, based on fairness, rights, and justice, are frequently distorted when filtered through systemic racism.

This marginalization of social work by the institution was not incidental to these events. It reflected aspects such as the limited resources allocated to the programme, the sidelining of social work faculty in strategic discussions, and the resistance I encountered when trying to advance necessary curricular changes. Social work, despite its explicit commitment to social justice, was treated as peripheral and burdensome. As others have noted (Twale 2018; Ixer et al. 2022), social work’s emphasis on equity, critical reflection, and community engagement often places it at odds with institutional cultures rooted in hierarchy and bureaucratic expediency. My experience illustrates this tension. Rather than challenge systems that undermined both my identity and my discipline, I was expected to comply with them. This reflects a broader reality in academia, where Black women often face ethical dilemmas due to institutional pressures that conflict with their personal and professional values and commitment to equity as well as the individualism of universities, which is in stark contrast to the Ubuntu principles embedded in African-centredness of being Black and team work of social work (Mugumbate and Nyanguru 2013; Social Work England 2022; Chance 2021). These tensions compel them to navigate the difficult balance between meeting institutional expectations and maintaining integrity while challenging discriminatory practices. Such conflicts can lead to emotional and professional strain, making it difficult to assert their perspectives without fear of retaliation.

4. Discussion

The findings of this study highlight how embedded interlocking systems of oppression continue to shape the professional realities of Black women in academia (Combahee River Collective 1977). By describing my professional journey, involving harassment, institutional neglect, professional undermining, and intra-racial tensions, I show how my experiences mirror those documented across broader research and provide situated, first-person evidence of the structural and cultural forces that perpetuate inequality in social work academia.

The sustained failure of institutional processes to either recognize or address my concerns exacerbated the challenges I faced. These experiences are not simply anecdotal or circumstantial; they reflect wider patterns of racialized and gendered marginalization that have been repeatedly documented in the literature (Keashly and Neuman 2010; Bramlett-Solomon et al. 2025). Although many universities have formally adopted EDI/DEI agendas, evidence of their effectiveness remains limited and incremental. My experience supports the view (Bramlett-Solomon et al. 2025) that, if it exists at all, progress in EDI/DEI has been slow and small-scale, particularly when it comes to addressing the lived realities of marginalized staff.

One of the most consistent patterns that emerged from my narrative was the marginalization embedded in managerial interactions. Despite my qualifications and formal responsibilities, my contributions were repeatedly dismissed or undermined, and my relationships with colleagues were often mischaracterized through a reductive racial lens. These experiences are echoed in studies of racialized workplace bullying, discriminatory comments and actions (Ogbe 2022) and managerial bias (Tight 2023) and illustrate how microaggressions function as mechanisms of exclusion that reinforce hierarchical power relations. The long-term exposure to such dynamics has been associated with burnout, psychological distress, and professional stagnation (Donovan et al. 2013). In my case, these effects were compounded by the failure of leadership to recognise the intersectional complexity of my identities or to address the consequences of their own bias.

The university’s response to my formal grievance further exemplified how exclusion is structurally maintained. What should have been a protective process became, instead, a cause of further harm, with my concerns minimized and responsibility subtly redirected onto me. Although grievance systems are often presented as a tool for improving trust and communication (Sheridan et al. 2022), the broader literature casts doubt on their capacity to protect marginalized employees, particularly in academia (Williams et al. 2022; Narayan 2024). My experience reinforces this concern. The drawn-out, obscure processes (still not resolved at the time of writing, 18 months after lodging) and the absence of accountability not only intensified the original harm but also contributed to a broader climate of distrust. As others have noted, when HR departments prioritise institutional reputation over equity, they inadvertently legitimize discriminatory conduct and discourage future reporting. My experiences also illustrate what Williams (1991) describes as the dual burden placed on Black women in professional settings, i.e., being rendered either hyper-visible or entirely invisible, yet always expected to absorb emotional strain without acknowledgment or support.

Another key finding was the impact of ACPH, a phenomenon in which students challenge or undermine academic staff, often through entitlement reinforced by institutional inaction. My encounters with student hostility and largely unfounded complaints aligned with findings from Shaffakat et al. (2024), who argue that ACPH disproportionately affects educators from marginalized groups. In my case, the university’s reluctance to support me, even when student behavior clearly crossed professional boundaries, emphasizes the vulnerability of marginalized educators. These dynamics are especially acute in social work education, where staff are expected to offer emotional support alongside academic instruction, further exposing them to this form of harassment.

My experiences also point to the powerful role of toxic team dynamics. As other studies have shown, exclusionary team behavior significantly affects retention and progression among Black women in academia, as well as other professional environments (Rabelo et al. 2021; Wright et al. 2007; Stewart-Hall et al. 2023). Within my department, entrenched hostility and unresolved conflict often went unaddressed, instilling a culture of isolation and mistrust. My attempts to foster collaboration were frequently misconstrued and even led to further targeting, evidence of how marginalized professionals may be penalized for attempting to reform dysfunctional workplace cultures. As Stewart-Hall et al. (2023) note, meaningful progress in such environments depends on the willingness of leaders to confront these tensions and to hold team members accountable for maintaining professional standards of conduct.

An equally significant theme was the role of internalized oppression in compounding workplace harm. Intra-racial tensions and hostility from some Black colleagues were among the most evident and painful aspects of my experience. As Bryan (2001), Pyke (2010), and Hwang (2021) note, internalized oppression can lead individuals from marginalized groups to police one another, reinforce dominant hierarchies, or distance themselves from shared struggles. These dynamics are often fuelled by competition for limited opportunities and the pressures of conformity within white-majority institutions (Croisdale-Appleby 2014; David 2014; Tappan 2006). In my case, such behaviors undermined solidarity and exposed the limits of assumed cultural affiliation. The emotional toll of this was significant, reinforcing my sense of separation and raising important questions about how institutional cultures foster division rather than cohesion. As Zawadzki and Jensen (2020) observe, internalized oppression not only affects interpersonal relationships but can cause long-term disengagement and emotional withdrawal among minoritized staff.

Lastly, but importantly, my narrative sheds light on the institutional marginalization of social work itself. Despite its stated commitment to social justice, social work was repeatedly treated as peripheral to the university’s priorities, underfunded, undervalued, and often excluded from strategic conversations. This reflects a broader pattern noted by Jones et al. (2009), Kircher et al. (2011), and Almond (2023), who document how social work’s critical and reflective ethos is often at odds with more bureaucratic and commercially driven institutional norms. My experience of being asked to rubber-stamp documents, being excluded from regulatory follow-ups, and ultimately witnessing the programme’s closure all point to the fragility of disciplines that challenge the status quo. This professional side-lining deepened my sense of isolation and further limited opportunities for progression and influence (Collins and Parry-Jones 2000).

Despite the above, attention was given to possible ways forward. In “DEI Deconstructed,” Zheng (2022) highlighted a way forward, namely, the necessity of measurable outcomes to drive systemic change for marginalized groups, where current data reveals persistent underrepresentation, pay disparities, low promotion and retention rates for these demographics. Zheng’s framework advocates for a data-driven approach. For example, universities are systematically collecting and analysing data specific to Black women to inform DEI strategies and assess their effectiveness. Key to this process is nurturing a trusting environment and establishing cohesive networks of mentors that include diverse roles within the organization. This collaborative approach allows marginalized individuals to co-create DEI priorities, ensuring their experiences shape decision-making processes. By moving from passive commitments to active monitoring and continuous improvement, institutions can implement targeted interventions—such as equitable promotion pathways and mentoring schemes—while establishing transparent benchmarks for accountability. Studies such as those by Weekes et al. (2024) support Zheng, suggesting that organizations can cultivate a more inclusive environment for Black female academics, addressing the frustrations associated with unmet EDI promises.

5. Conclusions

This case study set out to explore the structural and institutional factors that shape workplace inequities, particularly in relation to race, gender, and power dynamics in UK social work higher education. Through an autoethnographic account grounded in my lived experience, it has examined how these forces interact to marginalize Black women in professional academic spaces. The findings contribute to a growing body of work that leverages personal narrative as a legitimate and powerful means of understanding how systemic inequities manifest in day-to-day institutional life.

The three themes that emerged—ACPH (which has to date not been researched in social work education), internalized oppression and toxic team dynamics, and the interplay of harassment, institutional failure, managerial neglect, and the marginalization of social work—each revealed distinct, yet interlinked, mechanisms through which structural exclusion is enacted and sustained. The experiences related were not presented as isolated incidents, but as cumulative and interacting effects that shaped my professional identity, wellbeing, and capacity to lead. Further, though grounded in a single person’s journey, the analysis was informed by established theory and research, helping to emphasize the existence of patterns that are common—though often overlooked—in academic settings.

The reflections in this study suggest that systemic inequity persists not just through overt discrimination, but through subtler mechanisms: the weaponization of grievance processes, the passive neglect of management, and the failure of institutions to meaningfully support those targeted by harassment or exclusion. ACPH highlights the vulnerability of staff members whose authority is increasingly challenged in student-centred institutional cultures, especially when those staff are from marginalized backgrounds. Similarly, internalized oppression and team toxicity clearly illustrate how racial dynamics can undermine the confidence, wellbeing, and career progression of individuals within marginalized groups, reinforced by institutional failure to intervene or respond appropriately. Finally, the persistent devaluation of social work as a discipline further limits the influence and visibility of those working at the intersection of social equity and professional education, often placing them at odds with institutional priorities.

Overall, the implications of the study’s findings extend beyond individual experiences and suggest that several major structural and policy reforms are required to address the systemic barriers faced by Black women in the workplace (Spillett 2024). First, culturally responsive leadership is critical; leaders must be equipped to understand intersectional identities and to respond with empathy and accountability. Second, there must be transparency and equity in grievance handling, with clear protection for complainants and consequences for discriminatory behavior. Third, social work as a discipline should be recognised and resourced appropriately, in line with its contribution to critical, socially engaged pedagogy. Additionally, organisations must create structures that discourage internalized oppression and promote collective empowerment—structures that include ‘features’ such as mentorship networks, inclusive decision-making, team mediation processes, and capacity-building workshops. Without these changes, academic institutions will continue to reinforce the very inequities they claim to want to eradicate (Spillett 2024; Shaffakat et al. 2024). Lastly, organizations must collate data, actively monitor processes, and enact continuous improvements to build trusting environments that alleviate frustration and disillusionment (Zheng 2022).

As a final note, it is important to acknowledge that this case study has some significant limitations. As an autoethnographic case study, it is based on the narrative of a single professional and therefore may not fully capture the diversity of challenges faced by other Black women in different institutional contexts. Further, the use of a single account means that the findings are not generalizable in a statistical sense, as with large-scale quantitative studies. However, the approach does have a significant strength in its capacity to be based on the analysis of lived experience and reveal how systemic conditions operate through everyday encounters. Future research might build on this work by exploring similar experiences across departments or institutions, by examining institutional responses to staff grievances in greater depth (Bramlett-Solomon et al. 2025; Sheridan et al. 2022), or by identifying meaningful solutions, as Zheng suggests, that go beyond platitudes and rhetoric.