S3, E5: Escaping the Vocational Awe Trap w/Fobazi Ettarh

In this episode we are joined in conversation by scholar, academic consultant, librarian and educational game designer, Fobzi Ettarh, who notably coined the concept of "vocational awe" in 2018. Ettarh shares how vocational awe operates at both the micro and macro levels, contributing to problematic hiring, onboarding, and retention practices in the library profession, and illustrates how this concept directly ties to workplace inequities and burnout.

Additionally, Ettarh provides actionable ways to escape the trap of vocational awe by prioritizing mental health and rest, achieving work-life balance, reframing how we are showing up for community, and urging administrators to lead by example.

Date of interview: July 17, 2024
Host(s): Ericka Brunson-Rochette & Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas


Additional Info. & Links:

Vocational Awe-  “the set of ideas, values, and assumptions librarians have about themselves and the profession that result in beliefs that libraries as institutions are inherently good and sacred, and therefore beyond critique.” (Ettarh, 2018)

• "Vocational Awe and Librarianship: The Lies We Tell Ourselves"  (January 2018 article from, In the Library With the Lead Pipe)
• Ettarh's Webpage/Blog
• Follow Ettarh on Twitter @Fobettarh
• Latanya Jenkins' story 
• ALA Memorial Resolution Honoring Latanya N. Jenkins

Transcript

 [Intro Music Playing] 

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Hello, and welcome to OVERDUE: Weeding Out Oppression in Libraries, a podcast produced by the Oregon Library Association's Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, and Anti-Racism Committee. I am Ericka Brunson-Rochette, she/her pronouns, committee member and Oregon librarian.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

And I am guest host, Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas, pronouns they/them, he/him. And I'm a former librarian, community member, and lifelong library user.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Great. And we are so excited today to be joined in conversation by scholar, academic consultant, educational game designer, and overall library extraordinaire Fobazi Ettarh. Fobazi Ettarh's research is concerned with the relationships and tensions between the espoused values of librarianship and the realities present in the experiences of marginalized librarians and library users. In 2018, she coined the term and defined the concept of vocational awe, which describes the set of values, ideas, and assumptions librarians have about themselves and the profession that result in beliefs that libraries as institutions are inherently good and sacred and therefore beyond critique.

In her article, Vocational Awe: The Lies We Tell Ourselves, she describes how vocational awe can lead to burnout in a sense that one's own self-care is less important than the work being done. Although written before the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, Ettarh's words have resonated with many library workers throughout the nation in the current moment, as we strive to serve our patrons and our profession as best as we can amidst the competing demands of home, work, and health. Her remarks in equity and inclusion and libraries are just as timely and important.

In 2019, in an interview with Cathy Hannabach, she spoke of the resistance that marginalized library workers face when advocating for better working conditions and talked about what a changing world might offer in the way of alliances and social progress. When describing what a better world would look like to her, Fobazi Ettarh said, in part, "A place where change is embraced, where people work as a collective rather than working in opposition to each other and to one's own interest, a place where conflict isn't seen as a four-letter word but as a fulcrum to a better time, a better organization, a healthier world and place.

Ettarh's critical work on libraries, labor, and identity has been published In the Library with the Lead Pipe and edited collections, including the Critical Library Pedagogy Handbook and Knowledge Justice: Disrupting Library and Information Studies through Critical Race Theory. She has given invited talks at numerous professional and scholarly conferences and events, including the Library as Place Symposium and keynotes at the Association of College and Research Libraries and Library Journal Directors Summit. Her research has been covered in numerous outlets, and she consults in library and corporate contacts on labor, identity, and diversity. She is also the creator of the open access video game, Killing Me Softly, a game about microaggressions. We're so glad to have you join us today, Fobazi.

Fobazi Ettarh:

Thank you. And thank you for having me.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Oh, we are so excited for this conversation. The committee has put together a pretty robust list of questions, so we're just going to hop right in with our general questions today. And the first one I've got is can you explain the concept of vocational awe and what inspired you to coin the term?

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yeah. Ironically enough, vocational awe, the definition was kind of an accident. I was getting ready for a panel at a conference, IACAL, so Identity, Agency, and Culture in Academic Libraries I'm pretty sure is what that spells out to, but, you know libraries and their acronyms. On this panel, I was talking about work-life balance and sort of the lack thereof when it comes to libraries. And I have been thinking about the idea of the sacred and how that language of the divine and the religious continues to come into play within libraries. And so I was talking to my panel mates about a time recently where I had heard a librarian refer to their job as a sacred duty, and so I had said in response to my panel mates that it seemed like there was some sort of vocational awe when it comes to the work of library as librarianship. And yeah, it was just kind of a throwaway phrase.

And I guess I had thought it already existed, and that's why I'd said it, and so did my panel mates until they looked it up and realized that the only thing online that had mentioned it was me. And so that's that panel. We ended up talking a lot about the term because it really does play so well within the culture of libraries. And yeah, that's how it all snowballed from there. I started thinking more seriously about the term, what it would mean and how it would actually play out as a framework.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Thank you for sharing that. And what an appropriate  accident it was. I feel like we could all find ourselves in a place where we can so accurately and poignantly describe something that we all can observe and see but really can't put our finger on where the cause is or what is creating those kind of environments. We're all very thankful for you for stumbling upon that accidentally.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

And I guess to move us along, talk a little bit deeper about vocational awe, our next question is how have you seen vocational awe manifest in the daily lives of library workers?

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yeah. Vocational awe is interesting in that it works both at the macro and at the micro. And so when we talk about vocational awe in the actual daily lives of workers, we see it play out at all levels of the professional process. There is the job applications. Vocational awe plays a huge role in the writing and descriptions that are within these job applications, right, asking for someone who is extremely passionate, who is willing and able to go above and beyond for the job. And also, we see it in the fact that in many cases, they don't actually put a salary or a range of salaries, even. They expect you to go into the application process completely blind to how much you will get paid. And seeing as we live in a capitalistic system and how much we get paid in many cases determines our actual worth. To hide that, to assume that wouldn't matter that whether or not you know what the salary is, the assumption there is that libraries and librarianship is so important to you and to your life and identity that you don't need to know how much you get paid because you're not in it for the money, you're in it for the love of the game, as the saying goes. And so we're already starting off the professional process being tied to this idea that love and passion are almost more necessary than the actual job duties.

And then we go into the job itself where in many cases, there is very little to no onboarding process. Again, this assumption that you're in it for the service, you're in it for the passion and you can figure it out. You can get your hands dirty really quickly without necessarily needing support that an onboarding process would give you.

And then when you're in the job itself, this idea again that you shouldn't need to advocate for yourself, that whatever the library is giving you, whether it's financial support, whether it's support in terms of staffing, whether it's support in terms of materials and collections, whatever it is, you can do more with less. That's always what's commonly said in libraries; doing more with less.

And so this idea is that you shouldn't feel the need to make a change to the existing library structure and culture but instead bend yourself to fit the structure, not bend the structure to fit you. And that is seen in terms of work-life balance, the idea that you should have... We haven't even gotten to work-life separation, quite honestly, let alone work-life balance, this idea that our library identity is a 24/7 thing. Going back to the vocation part of vocational awe, the act of it being a vocation makes it something that is, again, the divine, the religious.

And as a PK or a preacher's kid, I very well deeply understand that when we talk about religion, it is a 24/7 thing. You should be answering emails at 2:00 AM. You should be answering emails while on vacation because whatever you're doing outside of the library, ultimately the library is more important. And so yeah, those are just some of the ways that it plays out within the daily lives.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Yes, same here. And it's so hard because we can have these conversations time and time again, and I still fall trap to these same things. I see the damage that it does. And I tell myself every time I am going on vacation or taking some time away that this is going to truly be the time where I don't need to give of myself. Nothing catastrophic enough is going to happen if I don't respond to an email. And I have never fully gotten through any of my time off without at least checking in. And so even those of us who know this work, who have read your paper, who have had these conversations, still somehow the library and the library profession pulls us back in. My next question for you, actually it's a two and a half part question, is what are some of the common signs of burnout among librarians that you've observed? And how does vocational awe contribute to these burnout symptoms? And what can be done to mitigate its effects?

Fobazi Ettarh:

I think that when we're talking about burnout, it can be hard to distinguish what burnout is from just like having a bad day or even a couple of bad days. We all have days or even short stretches where work seems really intense and really tiring. And while it may lead to burnout, it isn't burnout in and of itself. Burnout, I try and remind people, is a bodily response. It means being physically and emotionally worn out. It means feeling useless and powerless and empty. These are very visceral words when we're talking about burnout.

And so when we think about some of the symptoms, it's helpful to ask questions like do you question the value of your work? Burnout, in many cases, you've gotten to the point where it feels like whatever you're doing doesn't matter anyway. And so tied to that, it's this, ask the question like, do you drag yourself to work and then when you're at work have trouble getting started? I know for me, I would know that I would be starting to get burned out or had reached burnout when being in the physical building gave me an underlying level of stress and anxiety. It felt like I had placed not necessarily a lot of weight, maybe even just 10 pounds, but I put 10 pounds on my shoulders. And then it would stay on my shoulders throughout the day no matter what I did until it was time to leave the building, and even if I was leaving the building just to get lunch. And I would leave the building and take my first full breath that I had taken up until that point. That shows the depth of the weight that it puts on your body, not just emotionally but physically as well.

And what that leads to, having that extra weight, being that empty, is that it leads to things like being super impatient with your coworkers, with your job duties itself, with anything and everything. Things that are maybe little in the scheme of things now feel like a catastrophe, now feel like the worst thing in the world. And it leads you to feel like your skills, your abilities are ultimately useless and that entire institution is ultimately not something that can be saved, at least by you.

And so how vocational awe plays into that is this idea that passion is what was being considered in terms of efficiency. Not the hard skills that come with the job duty, but how passionate you are in the act of doing them. How collegial are you? How many times do you, again, come early and stay late because you just love doing your work so much? That's the idea, at least from the administrator side.

Going back to that, the definition of vocational awe, it's this idea that whatever we're doing is inherently good and sacred and cannot be critiqued. And so everything we do then becomes the most important thing, even to the point where I've had people tell me that they're answering emails during labor. That is what vocational awe leads to, ultimately, this idea that you cannot take a step away at any moment because the library as an institution is the most important thing.

And when you don't have any break, when you don't have any separation, you are unable to rest and recharge. There's a reason that we're supposed to sleep however many hours a day. Because our brain needs that time to take a break, to have our bodies rest, to have our bodies stop thinking about what we need to do, what needs to get done, what has to happen in X, Y, and Z amount of time. Even if we think about the cycle of nature, winter is the time where the plants, the leaves fall off because, again, everything needs that chance to rest and retreat and have that moment of recharging. But vocational awe says that any moment to yourself is a moment that you are not serving the greater good. And that ultimately is what leads to the burnout, that inability to actually have a chance to rest and recharge.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Wow, Fobazi, thank you for sharing that and for so aptly describing that true weight and heaviness that burnout really causes. Everything that you express sparked these deep memories and instances that I have personally had in this profession where things just feel so heavy. And that somehow makes me feel like the more that I do, the less worth I have. That feeling that nothing I can do or give is ever going to be enough, even if I were to look down and see that I have given every single piece of myself, that maybe it's still me that's the problem; that I should have had more to give.

And in thinking about when you said that everyone and everything needs a break, everything needs a retreat, it reminded me a lot of the amazing Tricia Hersey, the founder of the Nap Ministry and author of Rest is Resistance, that we are not able to get actionable things done. We're not able to see or achieve progress if we do not rest. But how do you do that in spaces and systems that equate passion to ability or, more dangerously, passion to worth, where self-care and rest can be viewed as these selfish or disengaged or, quote, unquote "lazy" qualities?

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Yeah, thank you, Fobazi. And it's so funny, I was hearing you talk about those things and I was thinking about the ways that obviously that we all internalize vocational awe and the ways that I had internalized it and thinking about how sometimes my institution wouldn't put that pressure on me per se, I would put it on myself, but because I saw the importance in the work that I was doing and as a librarian, but then also with EDI as an additional task, that actually what I would get from institutions is, "Oh, no, rest or take the time." But it was as a means for the work not to get done. Instead of supporting and be like, "What work can we take off of your plate? Because we understand that it's important, we tell you that it's important all the time. How can we support?" It's like, "Take a rest," and then the work doesn't get done. But because you're working for your community, it's so much more personal.

I think for people of color, yeah, you've internalized that and you push forward. Even though you don't have the bandwidth, you just find a way to do it. Actually, that brings us to the next question too, which is how your work emphasizes the importance of equity and inclusion within libraries. And wondering if you can share some examples of resistance marginalized library workers might face when advocating for better conditions.

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yeah, Rodrigo, thank you for that question. And I definitely understand that pressure as a person of color, as a Black woman, especially when it comes to doing EDIA work and wanting so badly to help the community and knowing that in many cases you're the only one who cares, and so if you don't do it won't get done. And having the, "Oh, we support your work," it's ultimately empty without support to back it up, without giving, whether it be staffing or funding or whatever it is, it's just words.

And so in terms of some of the ways that resistance might happen, it goes back to, in many ways, how people of color are perceived. I'm going to be speaking in the American context because that's all I know, but say something like asking for help or asking for more support in whatever way that might look like, when a white woman, because libraries are majority white women, when they ask, it is not seen in any negative way. If anything, what I've seen over and over again is this quickness to support other women get to where they are. The idea is, "Oh, you remind me of me. Of course let me help you." It's a beautiful thing, it just doesn't reach out to other people; people who are not white women.

Instead, what is done is what you've experienced, Rodrigo, and what I've said where it's a lot of words but not a lot of action behind it. Allyship to them is an identity rather than an action. Allyship should be an action. "How can I help you take on what you need to do to make the culture more equitable or to increase the working conditions for all of us?"

Ultimately, too many white people see diversity as a welcoming to their table. And when you see it that way, "Oh, welcome to our table," we are ultimately reliant on their feelings about us at the table. When they feel great about us, maybe things get done, but as soon as you start ruffling feathers pointing out, "Hey, this is racist or this is homophobic," suddenly you're messing with their feelings of harmony. And instead of thinking of ways to make a more diverse table harmonious, they just want to expel what they consider the problem, which is people of color or other marginalized identities.

And so whereas a white woman saying, "Hey, this is wrong," is not seen in any racialized way, when I, as a Black woman, say, "This is wrong," I have to now battle the angry Black woman stereotype or the dragon lady stereotype if you're an Asian woman. There are all of these racially coded things that start entering the conversation when you, as a person of color, start to point out the things that are inequitable.

And it plays out in various ways, saying things like, "Oh, they're really intimidating, or they're really aggressive," passing over you when it comes to things like promotions because you're not seen as collegial enough or you're seen as a troublemaker. Sarah Ahmed said the case where in pointing out the problem, you become the problem. And so again, when we're talking about resistance in terms of trying to advocate, it ultimately comes down to the feelings of our white co-workers who, despite saying all the right things, have no true understanding of what support and community actually mean.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Yeah and I guess what I think is it's because it's like the library does serve them. They don't belong to a community that's trying to change things, so there's no personal stake in it, it seems.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Yeah, and I'm thinking about your table analogy, which I've heard a lot in libraries. "We are the table. Everybody come around our table. There's space for everyone." But it's the idea of the right to comfort of some people. You are welcome to the table, but only if you sit in a certain way or only if you can talk at my table in a certain way or maybe if you participate in only the conversations that I start at the table. Otherwise, this table is not for you, instead of finding ways to adapt the table to seat everyone.

I have our next question. And so it's another two-part question. I think all of my questions today are multi-part questions. What are your thoughts on the evolving role of librarians, especially in the context of mission creep and additional duties? And any advice for library administrators insofar as practical steps they can take to prevent burnout and support the well-being of their staff? I know we've talked a little bit about this already.

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yeah. In some ways, I understand that as the world continues to change, libraries have to change with it. We are, for example, no longer wearing monastic robes and going over scripts of religious work. Libraries change as the times change. Great. What isn't great is the impulse to take on every single space and every single role that can be done, whether it not it relates to libraries or not.

And so we see that when it comes to things like when I first was writing the vocational awe article, things like Narcan in libraries was a very big topic. Many libraries had started to administer Narcan in libraries and offer trainings. And it was seen as heroic. And it's very hard to be the person to say, "Hey, yes, that is heroic, but we, as librarians and library workers, should not be doing that. That is way over the line in terms of relating to library work at all." And the response was, "But you would rather let someone die than have the training to potentially save them?" And that's a very emotion-coded, visceral statement meant to stop conversation, which in many cases it did because, again, what do you say to that? "Yes, I want them to die"? But the answer isn't, "I, as a library worker, should be the one saving them." The answer should be, "How can I make sure that we have access to the resources?" In this case, EMTs, paramedics, MAT clinics that can come and help when needed. Why is it that the response isn't, "Let's figure out who we can bring in to help our communities"? And instead, it's, "How can we, as the workers, do these trainings that are usually maybe half a day and then subsequently be in charge of someone's potential livelihood?"

In so many cases, we, as librarians, as library workers are furious when K-12 teacher is like, "Oh, we don't need a librarian. We can stick an English teacher in the library," or in academia where it's like, "Oh, the professor can just incorporate searching and search strategies into their class. We don't actually need to bring a librarian in." We don't like when that happens to us, so why do we feel entitled to the professional work of other jobs, whether it be social work or EMT work or whatever it might be?

And so I think I understand the impulse in some ways. It's to show that we are connected to our communities and to show that the library is a place of value, a place that needs funding, especially when it's based public libraries and municipal funding every year, or even in academia where certain departments get more money because they are a money-making department, when in many cases libraries are a money-losing department. You're so desperate to show your worth to say, "No, but look at what we're doing," that we have instead stretched ourselves way too thin.

And so as an administrator, what we can do to try and prevent burnout that comes with a lot of this job creep is to actually support your workers in saying, "No, this is outside of the scope of libraries. We don't need to do this." A staff member will not feel comfortable voicing that, and so it's up to you as the administrator to, one, get to know your workers. I know that the higher up you go, the more work you have to do, the more meetings you have to have, the more people you have to talk to, stakeholders, donors, so on and so forth. But at the end of the day, your workers are what keeps the building running, and so they are the most important people that you need to be interacting with. And so as you know your workers, you'll start to see the ways job creep affects their departments personally.

And then you can say, "Hey, I know that we have a giant backlog in the archives, but that backlog has existed since before I was here, and let's be real it will exist after you guys are gone. And so let us not be so frantic to try and get through the backlog and think about a reasonable pace to go through this." Not 12-hour days, not, "Oh, we need to get through X amount of folders within a semester or a year." What is a reasonable pace to start to do the backlog work while also making sure the current work gets done and you have work-life balance?

It can be something as simple as reminding your workers that mental health counts as health. And so if you need a mental health day, take that sick day. A sick day, we shouldn't be asking, "Oh, what is that sick day for?" Is it for your joints that are hurting? Or is it because you're having a mental health bad day? No one should be asking that anyway. And so reminding people that mental health counts as health too is one way to show support.

Another way is to set and reinforce the boundaries that say, "Answer emails during work time." At 5:01, if someone emails you, do not answer them until 9:00 AM the next day, or whatever your work hours are. And making sure that you, as the administrator, also do that. Because, again, lip service, saying the words without any actions behind them is not the way to gain support amongst other people. And so yeah, it doesn't have to be giant, huge steps. In many cases, those little steps with the reinforcing no emails during outside of work hours or reinforcing, "Hey, you use up all your vacation days." Unless you truly want to cash them out, and that's fine, but otherwise there's no reason for you to have 180 days of sick day... or of vacation days. Actually go and use them and enjoy being outside of work, things like that.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Thank you for sharing those bite-size and actionable steps and reminders that administrators in those power positions can take. I think sometimes it can seem overwhelming or daunting to find the ways to really push for and promote self-care and to create those limits and boundaries. If everybody's work style is different. If everybody's coming from just different areas where maybe they have strengths or maybe they've got different things going on in their personal lives, finding an approach that is one size fits all is not going to work. And it's not going to work in any profession. It doesn't just go for libraries. What I heard you say is that really putting time into being thoughtful and being intentional with defining expectations and really delineating those boundaries. And what really spoke to me the most was having those people in positions of power reflect that themselves, really setting that example by doing it themselves. Appreciate that.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Yeah, and I think you've already begun to answer the next question, but maybe you want to add some more to it, but we just want to know how can individual librarians maintain their passion for the profession without falling into the traps of vocational awe?

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yeah. I think that one of the common questions that I... Or comment, I guess, rather that I still get is, "Are you saying that I'm not allowed to love my job?" And of course I never want to say that. We spend most of our lives, for better or worse, at work. And so it should always be a place where you feel good within the space. It doesn't have to go all the way to passionate, but at least good, feeling good within the space. And the ways you do that is, again, remembering that, as a person, you need multiple things to survive.

Just like going back to nature as a metaphor. If we're thinking about gardening, we don't want to be doing only one single thing. You want to be watering the plant, and then also making sure it gets sunlight and also making sure that sometimes it gets shade. It requires various things for our plant to grow, and we also require various things to grow.

And so vocational awe wants you to put all of your energy and time and spirit into work, into the libraries. In order to break free of that cycle, we need to remember that, again, rest is incredibly important. If you have to think of it from the purely neoliberal capitalist sense, we need rest so that we can have a long career and not burn out and have to have a lot of turnover. Vocational awe ultimately says that everyone is a cog in the machine. And one part breaks, you just throw a new cog in there and it can keep going. But as we find out time and time again, when that person who's been there for 15 years leaves, you realize how much institutional memory they have taken with them. Memory that cannot just be replaced by putting someone who is passionate in the role. And so remembering that it's a marathon, not a sprint. That you are taking this rest now so that you can continue to be a capable and effective worker not just for two years or three years or even five years, but for 15 years, for 20 years, for 30 years. And that having that rest not only gives you health to keep working, but it helps your brain think of new and creative ways to do work.

Especially when we're thinking about libraries and the fact that we are so tied to our communities. How can we know our communities if we're not actually out in the community? And so just reminding yourself that while being at work is important, being out in the community, being out with your friends, with your family, all of those things help us be a better, happier person. And a better, happier person is a better worker. If you really, again, want to think about it in the most neoliberal sense, a tired worker is not a great worker. A burnt-out worker isn't a great worker. And so you are doing this not only for yourself but for the people around you.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

My goodness, Fobazi, can you lead us all? I will follow you anywhere.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Thank you for that, Fobazi.

Fobazi Ettarh:

I still fall into the trap.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

I think we all do.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Yes, definitely.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

The systems that we were raised in, we all were raised in them, so there's a lot of things to unlearn.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Thank you for the comments. I appreciate how you always bring in the context of capitalism. Because I think that oftentimes we talk around that thing, but that is such a strong force that it's good for me to try to remember, yeah, we can think of it that way, but probably a better way to think about it that'll help you sustain yourself long-term is in these other ways of resting for yourself and for the community. And I appreciate your comments a lot.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Fobazi, what advice do you have for BIPOC librarians who are stuck between a rock and a hard place? In other words, how might BIPOC librarians go about establishing a better work-life balance when the system dictates they must work twice as hard just to be seen as producing equal output or less than as their non-BIPOC colleagues?

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yeah, this is so important and yet so difficult to answer. I think that going back to the conversation that we had a little earlier with Rodrigo and that pressure that we, as people of color, feel to make sure that our communities are not only being heard but valued on top of this very real fact that we do have to, in many ways, work twice as hard to get even a crumb of what our white colleagues get just for existing.

And so I do want to reiterate that at the end of the day, work does not love us. Work won't love you back. And should you leave either through sickness or even death, your institution will... Maybe they'll write a nice, little note. Maybe your colleagues will do a informal service in the break room for you, and that'll be it. And life will continue. Your job position will be filled or not filled, depending on budgetary needs. And you'll have worked yourself to the bone for ultimately is very little emotion wise, satisfaction wise.

And so while it is true that we do have to work twice as hard to get half as far, it's again important to remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint. If anything, it's more important for us to remember that than our white colleagues because we are often the only ones caring for our communities. We want to make sure that you're still here, that you're still able to engage with these communities that you love so much.

I still get emotional talking about this, but my friend and my mentor, Latanya Jenkins, was a librarian for Temple University in Philly. And she worked above and beyond for her community. Philly is a very Black city. And we couldn't go to lunch anywhere without someone coming up and being like, "Latanya." She was so loved. And because of a honestly Draconian sick leave policy that says that if you use more than three sick days in a semester that you start having disciplinary meetings, that she was forced to come into work after her chemo sessions when she got sick. And she was still fighting for better work conditions when she passed. And I fully believe that if she hadn't had to fight so hard to try and get work to cut her a break... She had put years into Temple. She had won so many awards. And it didn't matter when it came to... As soon as she stopped producing to the level that they liked because she was sick, they cut her off, basically. And she spent the last couple of years stressing over this instead of putting that energy towards fighting the cancer. Yes, she may have passed regardless, but we'll never know if she had worked for a place that valued all of those contributions that she gave the university and had a better work leave policy, we just don't know.

And it seems like an extreme example, but it really isn't because, again, the system dictates that we already have to do so much more work to be seen as successful. And we already have to endure all of the microaggressions that our white counterparts don't have to deal with. And so I think that while it's extremely hard to do, again because of all those internal and external pressures, it is that much more important for us to take a break and disconnect from the system, whatever system it might be, so that we can continue to live and be helpful and happy to not just our colleagues who at any given moment will throw out a microaggression at us, but to the communities that actually love us: our friends, our family, our church, whatever it might be. Yeah, that's what I have to say about that.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Thank you. Thank you for sharing. And also, I'm sorry for the loss of your friend and mentor. I remember reading about Latanya's situation, and it was just like a punch to the gut. And I know that you said it was an extreme example, but you're right, it is not an extreme example, it's a realistic example. It's something that I think is happening. I think it happens in this profession a lot to vocational awe, but it is happening at obscene proportions to library staff of color. And those stories need to be heard, and these examples need to be shared not only to have the legacy of people who have been doing incredible work passed on, but so folks really understand how much of ourselves we're giving.

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yeah. There's the saying, "Your body keeps the score," and so we can push and push and push and push, and we think that we are succeeding at doing more with less and pushing through, but all that's really happening is that your body is continuing to be ground down by all of that that you're doing. And eventually your body cannot take any more and it will stop you when whatever way that is. We would much rather stop than have our body be the ones to stop us.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Yeah, that's so real. Thanks for sharing that, Fobazi. Such a personal story. Yeah, thanks for sharing. And I guess maybe to end things on a lighter note, our final question for you today is what keeps you motivated and passionate about advocating for change in the library community?

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yeah, thank you for this question. Ultimately, I do love libraries. It might seem ironic that the person who created vocational awe loves libraries, but I do. I actually knew I wanted to be a librarian in middle school. And who actually does what they wanted to do in middle school? But yeah, I volunteered in libraries in my middle school and my high school. I went to college and was an English major on the literature track because I knew I wanted to be a school librarian, and so I wanted to make sure I was up-to-date on the trends in young adult literature. And I went basically straight from undergrad to library school and at Rutgers and did the school library track. My mom's an English teacher. If you're talking about preaching to the choir, I have been the choir since I was 12 years old.

And so I think that's partly why it's easier for me to remember that it's a marathon, not a sprint, because I had been working toward the goal of being in libraries for... I think you graduate grad school if you go straight through at 22 or 23, I think. And so I knew I wanted to be a librarian at 12, so that's a long time before I actually was able to step into the library in a professional sense.

And so I think that that knowledge has helped me remember that as much as vocational awe and librarianship want you to think that everything is the most important thing and it has to get done right now, otherwise it's a catastrophe, that it isn't. There are very few library disasters that need immediate help. And usually, those are caused by mother nature, flooding or a fire or something like that, in which case hopefully you're calling a firefighter or having facilities help. It's not usually the librarian who is putting out a library fire, something like that. And so there aren't library emergencies. We are the ones bringing it to the level of an emergency that it does not necessarily need, and so I just try and remember that.

And also thinking about what does it mean to truly love something. Loving something or someone doesn't mean saying yes to their every single whim, their every need. If it wasn't libraries, we would think that it's an absurd thing to do. If we were talking about a child and we said, "Oh my gosh, everything they do, I have to do it right away, right then. I have to make sure that all of their needs are met, even if it's not something that they necessarily need right now. I have to make sure every want is met, every desire." We would talk about how that would make the most spoiled and terrible child. And so why do we think that having an institution, which is ultimately made of people, have every single whim and need and desire met be a good thing? True love and true caring for something and someone is understanding that they have flaws, but critiquing, saying, "Hey, that was wrong. What's some ways we can make this right?" It's through that that true growth actually happens.

And so just thinking about libraries, just remembering that when other people are saying, "Oh, I love the library, and that's why I have to give all of myself to it," that at the end of the day that isn't a healthy kind of love. And when I say that I love libraries, my love includes advocacy, it includes change because we all need to continue changing and growing and becoming. And hopefully if more and more people understand that, then libraries will not only be able to become better, more equitable places, but it will be able to handle changes in culture a lot better than it currently handles it now. Yeah, that's how I continue to stay if not cheerful, at least willing to continue to work within and for libraries.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Yeah. Thank you for that, Fobazi. I feel like my definition of love definitely has this component of wanting things to improve. And it makes me think of this way that somebody framed boundaries. Setting boundaries isn't an attempt to end a relationship. You're trying to have the relationship continue in a healthy way, so setting those boundaries for yourself or wanting that improvement in the library is love being the thing, right? Totally.

Fobazi Ettarh:

Mm-hmm.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Yeah. And thinking of all of those things that that love can encompass, I heard you say advocacy and community, but it... And I don't want to speak out of turn, but it also feels like you're saying that love includes yourself, putting yourself first, putting self-care first so you can turn around and put parts of yourself and feed it into those things that you love.

Fobazi Ettarh:

Yes, exactly. Right. It's the idea that you put the air mask on yourself before you start helping your children. You don't just put it on the child first because then you are out of oxygen and now have passed out. And yes, now the child has oxygen, but you are unable to help them with the next step of evacuating or whatever it might be. And so that's why they say to put the mask on yourself before you help others. We need to make sure that we are good so that we can help others. And so yeah, I definitely agree that that love encompasses yourself and putting yourself and self-care first not to the detriment of others, but so that you are better equipped to help others.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Absolutely. Wow. I know that I'm not speaking just for myself when I say that we are so glad that your middle school ambitions came to fruition and that you are a librarian. This profession is without a doubt incredibly fortunate to have you in it.

Fobazi Ettarh:

Thank you. Thank you very much. Yeah. Again, I do chuckle because I think the year before, I had wanted to be an astronaut, and so the fact that I... I feel like when I told you I wanted to be a librarian when I was 12, they were like, "Okay." Yeah.

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

Maybe you can be the first librarian in space. You never know. We are so thankful that you were able to join us today for this amazing conversation. And I know that our listeners out there are definitely going to have some practical actions and amazing takeaways to help them start really prioritizing themselves and understanding that putting that love and that self-care into each of us as individuals is going to make us all that much better when serving our communities and serving our libraries.

Rodrigo Gaspar-Barajas:

Yes. Thank you, Fobazi, for your time. It's been great.

Fobazi Ettarh:

Thank you for having me. It has been honestly such a pleasure to be a part of this

Ericka Brunson-Rochette:

OVERDUE: Weeding Out Oppression in Libraries would not be possible without the generous support from the Oregon Library Association and the State Library of Oregon whose mission is to provide leadership and resources to continue growing vibrant library services for Oregonians. We would like to take time to acknowledge historical injustices. We recognize Oregon was established as a white sanctuary state with the intent to exclude African American and Black people on ancestral lands stolen from dispossessed Indigenous peoples. We recognize and honor the members of federally recognized tribes and unrecognized tribes of Oregon. We honor Native American ancestors past, present, and future whose land we still occupy. This acknowledgement aims to deconstruct false histories, correct the historical record, and disrupt genocidal practices by refocusing attention to the original people of the land we inhabit, the slave trade and forced labor that built this country, and to the oppressive social systems interwoven into the fabric of our national and regional heritage. We ask that you take a moment to acknowledge and reflect as well.

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