Abstract
This article explores the experiences of a woman of colour and senior lecturer navigating belonging in academia through the lens of creativity. Drawing on the power of narrative, it examines how microaggressions, structural exclusion, and racialised power dynamics shape the everyday academic experience, while also acknowledging moments of connection, agency, and care. Poetry, storytelling, and imaginative reflective practices are positioned as acts of resistance that disrupt institutional norms and invite new understandings of belonging. Creativity is shown not only as a tool for personal expression, but as a collective method for challenging exclusion and fostering shared, relational spaces. While individual efforts can be empowering, the article calls for a reimagining of academia that moves beyond tokenistic inclusion toward meaningful structural change and collective, co-created belonging.
Introduction
Belonging is a fundamental human need, yet within academia, it often feels elusive—particularly for those navigating the complexities of multiple marginalized identities (Carter et al., 2023). As a woman of colour with years of experience in higher education, my academic journey has been, and continues to be, shaped by biases, microaggressions, cultural misalignments, and exclusionary practices that undermine the very concept of a sense of belonging for faculty members like me.
While much of the existing research on belonging focuses on students (e.g., Archer et al., 2020; Gurin et al., 2002; Thomas et al., 2017; Hurtado et al., 2002), the experiences of academics remain largely underexplored. But this discussion is crucial because an academic's (who is also an educator) ability to foster a supportive and inclusive environment for students to belong is deeply connected to their own sense of security, validation, and acceptance within the academic community (Dost & Smith, 2023). When one struggles to find belonging, their capacity to nurture it in others is profoundly affected.
Despite numerous challenges, my experiences have led me to embrace creativity as a means of reflection, resistance, and reclamation. Creativity, in its many forms, has allowed me to process invisibility, exclusion, assert my presence, and reimagine what belonging could look like in an academic landscape that often feels unwelcoming. Through poetry, storytelling, reflective writing, and pedagogical approaches, I have found ways to navigate my place within higher education by challenging norms, fostering connection, and advocating for meaningful change.
This article explores the role of creativity as a tool for reshaping the discourse on belonging. By centring creative expression as both a personal and institutional strategy, I examine how it not only helps individuals make sense of their lived experiences but also has the potential to transform academic spaces into more inclusive and affirming environments where one can truly belong.
The Concept of Belonging
A sense of belonging is the profound feeling of being accepted, valued, and connected within a community, environment, and/or space. It is the assurance that one's identity and contributions are recognized and respected in turn creating a foundation for one to thrive in both personally and professionally (Henkel, 2012). In the context of higher education, belonging extends beyond mere inclusion—it is about fostering environments where every individual feels they are an integral part of the institution's fabric, with their presence and perspective deeply appreciated (Morgan, 2024). A strong foundation of mutual respect and inclusion therefore is a prerequisite for cultivating a sense of belonging.
Almarode et al. (2024) rightly note that as human beings, we flourish when we have opportunities to connect, build relationships, and feel part of a community. Belonging then is essentially about feeling comfortable, feeling safe, feeling recognized, feeling included and valued, and feeling at ease in one's surroundings (Covarrubias, 2024). It is rooted in emotions and attachment. To belong is to feel you are exactly where you are meant to be, and are acknowledged and accepted, as an integral part of a space or group (Antonsich, 2010). However, the concept of belonging is far more complex and can vary significantly depending on individual experiences and perspectives. For instance, some people experience non-belonging due to factors like nationality or geographic location, which then highlights the layered and dynamic nature of belonging (Saltus et al., 2022).
Belonging then, is multifaceted for academics; it encompasses emotional, professional, and intellectual dimensions that are deeply interconnected (Allen et al., 2021). On a personal level, belonging means feeling emotionally safe and valued for who one is—not just as a lecturer or academic but as a woman, person of colour, whose identity informs their perspective and teaching. It means knowing that the background, experiences, and cultural identity that one brings are seen as assets rather than anomalies (Dai & Hardy, 2023).
For example, belonging means not feeling out of place in meetings or academic discussions dominated by colleagues who share little in common with ones lived experiences. It means being able to bring one's whole self without the fear of judgment or dismissal based on race, gender, or ethnicity because belonging continues to be profoundly influenced—and often hindered—by the intersections of one's race, colour, and gender. These identities do not exist in isolation but are deeply intertwined, shaping how individuals are perceived, treated, and valued (Crenshaw, 1991), and in turn, in how they belong within institutional spaces.
On a professional level, as an academic, belonging signifies recognition of one's expertise, contributions, and potential. It means having access to opportunities for growth and leadership that are not hindered by unconscious biases or systemic barriers (Prince & Francis, 2023). It also means being treated equitably by colleagues and students, with one's role as an academic acknowledged and respected. Professional belonging extends to collaborative spaces. It is the ability to contribute meaningfully to discussions, projects, and conferences without feeling sidelined or tokenized (Malhotra, 2022).
In higher education, intellectual belonging is particularly significant. It involves the freedom to pursue research, teach, and innovate without the constraints of cultural stereotyping or societal expectations (Stanonis, 2016, p. 142). It means knowing that individual ideas and methodologies are seen as legitimate, regardless of how they might challenge traditional or Eurocentric paradigms. In a profession that thrives on intellectual exchange, belonging ensures that voices are not just heard but valued. Belonging then, is not merely about personal comfort; it is integral to professional success and institutional growth because research has consistently shown that individuals who feel a sense of belonging are more engaged, motivated, productive, and have a strong sense of wellbeing (Haim-Litevsky et al., 2023; Malhotra, 2022).
Contested Belonging: Racialised Power and the Everyday Work of Academic Survival
Belonging with an Asterisk
Belonging is often framed as a basic human need, foundational to thriving in academic life (Allen et al., 2021). Yet for many faculty of colour, belonging comes with an asterisk: it is conditional, partial, and constantly negotiated. Academic spaces frequently operate through unspoken norms about who “naturally” fits. These norms are racialised, gendered, and classed, shaping who is welcomed without suspicion, who is assumed competent, and who must continually prove their right to be there (Duarte et al., 2023).
Microaggressions, subtle, often unconscious expressions of bias, are one of the primary ways these exclusions are maintained (Wong et al., 2014). A raised eyebrow, an overlooked idea, a mispronounced name — each moment on its own may seem minor, but over time they accumulate into a persistent sense of not quite belonging. These acts send a message: you are visible, but not fully seen; invited, but not fully included. Belonging, then, is not something granted once, but something fought for daily in the margins of institutional life.
The Weight of Being Questioned
Among the most pervasive challenges faced by faculty of colour is the constant questioning of their authority and expertise. Research shows that women and racialised faculty are significantly more likely to have their legitimacy challenged by students, peers, and administrators (Banaji et al., 2021; Rainey et al., 2018). These experiences are not just about hurt feelings; they shape career trajectories, emotional well-being, and long-term engagement with the academy.
Such doubt is rarely directed at white, male faculty in the same way. The image of the “ideal academic”, objective, authoritative, detached, is deeply rooted in whiteness and masculinity. Those who do not fit that mould become what Ahmed (2012) terms as “affect aliens,”. Misidentifications are not accidental; they are shaped by long histories of exclusion and normative assumptions about who holds knowledge (Stewart et al., 2021). They also manifest in formal metrics: student evaluations, for example, consistently show racial and gender bias, which can impact promotion, job security, and self-confidence (Daskalopoulou, 2024). Belonging is not just about inclusion in space, it's about recognition of authority. When that authority is routinely questioned, belonging becomes nearly impossible to sustain.
Be a Dear and Take Notes
These dynamics extend into professional settings, where racialised and gendered expectations continue to operate beneath the surface. I have been in meetings where I was asked to take notes or relay information — not because I volunteered, but because I was assumed to be the organiser or assistant. “Be a dear and take notes” (Banda, 2024, p. 93) was said lightly, but it carried a heavy weight. It signalled who was expected to lead, and who was expected to serve.
Faculty meetings, away days, and committee work often replicate white cultural norms around communication, hierarchy, and “professionalism” (Gray, 2019). What is considered appropriate tone, assertiveness, or dissent is frequently racialised. Even within shared governance structures, decision-making power is not equally distributed. Ideas shared by marginalised academics are often met with silence, only to be validated when rephrased by someone more central to institutional norms. These seemingly small moments chip away at a person's professional identity, reinforcing that one's role is to support, not shape, academic life.
Fractured Alliances
It would be comforting to imagine that faculty of colour always find community in each other, that shared experiences naturally foster solidarity. But institutions are not neutral spaces, and neither are the relationships within them. Structural scarcity, in leadership roles, funding, and recognition, often turns colleagues into competitors (Bhattacharyya et al., 2024). When opportunities are limited, so too is trust.
This is not a failure of individual character but a result of systemic design. Sensoy and Diangelo (2017) describe how institutional conditions create pressure for underrepresented faculty to distance themselves from one another in order to survive professionally. When only a few seats at the table are made available, collaboration becomes risky. The result is isolation, disconnection, and missed opportunities for collective resistance. This fractured terrain makes belonging even more complex, not only are you marginalised by the institution, but sometimes estranged from those who might otherwise be allies.
Polished Promises, Closed Doors
Despite public and institution commitments to equity, diversity, and inclusion, leadership in academia remains overwhelmingly white and male (Heslop-Martin et al., 2024; Arday, 2018). Institutional discourse may use the language of belonging and inclusion, but decision-making power often lies in informal networks shaped by whiteness and class (Mirza, 2017). The practice of “shoulder tapping”, where individuals are informally invited into leadership roles, benefits those already seen as safe, familiar, and culturally aligned (Sensoy & Diangelo, 2017).
Academic awards are another space where inequities persist. Recognition often goes to those who perform accepted forms of academic labour, visible outputs, high-impact publications, or performative collegiality, rather than those engaged in relational, community-focused, or creative work. The processes for selecting award recipients are often opaque, shaped by subjective assessments of “excellence” that reflect dominant norms (Miegroet & Glass, 2020; Lagisz et al., 2024). These polished promises of meritocracy and inclusion mask the structural realities of who holds power, and who remains outside, knocking.
Beyond exclusion from leadership roles, faculty of colour frequently contend with perceptions that they were hired primarily for diversity purposes rather than for their expertise. This “tick-box” mentality diminishes their professional contributions and reinforces the idea that their presence is performative rather than meaningful (Hartlep et al., 2025). Such attitudes perpetuate imposter syndrome; a combined sense of inadequacy and inauthenticity (Breeze et al., 2022, p. 4) which further erodes a sense of belonging in academic spaces.
Language Under Siege
Academic institutions, often touted as spaces for intellectual freedom and equality, can paradoxically foster feelings of exclusion (Heffernan, 2023). This remains true and the politics of belonging are shaped not only by institutional culture but by broader social forces (Amer, 2024). Recent attacks on DEI in higher education, particularly in the U.S. under Donald Trump's leadership, have made visible the fragility of inclusion as a concept. Though these developments are unfolding across the Atlantic, their discursive and ideological influence travels. UK institutions often echo U.S. trends in how they frame, fund, and resist equity work.
DEI has become a contested terrain, framed by some as a necessary step toward justice, and by others as a threat to neutrality or academic freedom (Corredoira et al., 2022). From my standpoint as a woman of colour in the UK academy, these global shifts have not made me feel safer; they have exposed how precarious belonging can be. When critical pedagogies, marginalised scholarship, and staff support structures are under threat, the message is clear: your presence is conditional, and always under review.
Disappearing Acts
When exclusion becomes routine, many faculty of colour withdraw from spaces where they are routinely sidelined. Research shows that experiences of exclusion at conferences, faculty meetings, and institutional events contribute to disengagement and career stagnation (Wong et al., 2014). These are not just missed opportunities; they are forms of professional invisibility that erode confidence and limit advancement.
Avoidance becomes a strategy of survival. It is emotionally safer not to attend, not to speak up, not to share. But over time, these absences accumulate, and the institution quietly reabsorbs the space that was once yours. This is the slow violence of exclusion, not through overt denial, but through the steady erosion of voice, presence, and possibility (Nixon, 2011, p. 3).
Hope as Method
Belonging in academia cannot be reduced to policy language or symbolic gestures. It must be enacted through cultural, relational, and structural change (Blake et al., 2022, p. 8). This section is not only a critique but a call — to engage more deeply with what real belonging looks like for faculty of colour. We need research that does not just document harm, but uncovers what healing looks like. What makes people stay? What practices nourish community and solidarity? It is time to move beyond repeatedly cataloguing the same exclusions (Jamil, 2022). I want to know where belonging is working — where it is felt, shared, and sustained. Because imagining better is not enough. We must build it, and it is here where I speak from.
Where I Speak from: Background and Institutional Landscape
My experiences navigating the academic landscape are informed by my unique cultural and professional backgrounds. Born and raised in England to a mixed heritage Middle Eastern and South Asian family with a strong military background, I have been immersed in a variety of social contexts throughout my life. I have also traversed the British educational system, and this journey has shaped much of my academic identity. Fluent in three languages, I possess a diverse linguistic and cultural perspective that influences how I perceive and engage with the world of higher education.
Professionally, I work within a large, urban, teaching-intensive post-1992 UK university, recognised for its commitment to diversity and widening participation. The institution primarily serves a local, commuter-based student population, many of whom are first-generation university students, mature learners, and individuals from Black, Asian, minority ethnic, working-class, and migrant backgrounds. These intersecting identities give rise to a rich but complex educational environment—one in which dominant assumptions about academic success and belonging are regularly contested and redefined.
Within this setting, I am based in the Department of Education, where I teach across undergraduate and postgraduate programmes. My scholarly work focuses on pedagogy, participatory methodologies, and arts-based inquiry, with particular emphasis on creativity in early childhood education and student voice in higher education. Drawing on feminist, post-qualitative, and art-based frameworks, I examine how both students and educators navigate the affective, relational, and structural dimensions of academic life.
This article has been many years in the making—over fifteen, in fact. There have been times when I started writing and then walked away, unable or unwilling to continue. And yet, the themes it grapples with have remained urgent, evolving alongside institutional movements around anti-racist pedagogy, decolonisation, and broader commitments to Equality, Diversity, and Inclusion (Hall et al., 2023). These institutional efforts are vital, but they also intersect in complex and at times contradictory ways, challenging conventional understandings of what it means to belong.
What follows is a fragment of my academic life and identity. I share it openly, knowing it may unsettle or provoke discomfort. But as Dyson (2024: xviii) reminds us, “we must scrutinise our forms of belonging and how they either invite or alienate others.” It is in this spirit of scrutiny and shared vulnerability that I write, adopting a narrative lens to illuminate how belonging is lived, felt, and negotiated. Personal stories, as Squire (2014) and Josselson (2010) argue, offer powerful ways of expressing the complexities and nuances of lived experience.
The Power of Narrative
Stories matter. My story matters—not as a singular or exceptional account, but as part of a broader conversation about what belonging actually feels like in practice. It is here that the power of narrative offers a window into the layered realities of those who, like me, often find themselves asking: Do I belong here? This paper therefore contributes to the dismantling of the dominant and “grand narratives” (Lyotard, 1979; Given, 2008) of academic belonging. A narrative that too often renders whiteness, middle-classness, and neutrality as invisible norms. By foregrounding the lived experience of a woman of colour negotiating her place within academia, it challenges dominant assumptions about who belongs, and on what terms. Narrative is not a supplement to theory or policy; it is theory, policy, resistance, and possibility.
In sharing this narrative, I am not offering an anecdotal aside. Rather, I am enacting what Cairo (2021) calls holding space — using story as a method to centre marginalised voices, bridge across difference, and unsettle entrenched power structures. As Adichie (2009) cautions, the danger lies not in the single story itself, but in the dominance of certain stories, those repeatedly heard, legitimised, and institutionalised, to the exclusion of others.
Narrative, especially when situated and embodied, has the capacity to do what policy cannot: to reach beyond abstraction, to activate empathy, and to illuminate the affective textures of institutional life. A single story, told truthfully and unapologetically, can serve as a rupture, an opening, a reorientation. In this sense, my narrative does not seek to represent all experiences, nor does it apologise for its specificity. It claims its power because it is particular, situated, and emotionally resonant, because it invites readers to see the institution differently and to feel the contradictions and possibilities of belonging through another's eyes.
Creativity as a lens for Belonging
I have infused the power of narrative with creativity, because in its many forms, it has offered a unique and transformative lens through which the anatomy of belonging can be explored, understood, and nurtured within academic and professional settings. At its core, creativity encourages self-expression, personal narrative, and the breaking down of boundaries (Gauntlett, 2007), qualities that are essential in fostering a deep sense of belonging. By framing the journey of belonging as a creative narrative, my lived experiences are brought to the forefront, offering deeper insight into the emotional, social, and psychological factors that shape a sense of inclusion or exclusion (Hutchinson et al., 2007) – do I belong here?
This approach allows for a more holistic understanding, moving beyond statistical data or generalized observations to highlight the subjective, personal struggles, and triumphs that are often overlooked (Goodson, 2013). Through a creative lens, the intricate realities of identity, race, culture, and academic pressure can be explored in a way that emphasizes the importance of personal agency and resilience (Black & Garvis, 2018), making the abstract concept of belonging more tangible and relatable to others who may share similar experiences.
When individuals are given the freedom to express their thoughts, identities, and experiences through creative means, they are more likely to feel validated and recognized within a community (O'Connor, 2014; Sannino & Ellis, 2013). Whether through poetry, storytelling, visual arts, music, or performance, creative practices provide a safe and empowering outlet for marginalized voices to share their lived experiences as ‘ways of exposing and disclosing’ (Loch & Black, 2016, p. 120). They become tools to reclaim and assert their presence in spaces where they battle belonging when overlooked, silenced, and made invisible.
Poetry as a Tool to Articulate Belonging
This article started with a poem because poetry served as a powerful creative medium for expressing complex emotions that were difficult to articulate through conventional academic discourse (Hoult et al., 2020). Poetry allows individuals to transform abstract feelings, such as invisibility, isolation, and resilience, into vivid, tangible expressions. For those navigating the challenges of belonging, poetry provides not only a means of personal catharsis but also a way to foster solidarity with others who share similar experiences. It allows for an exploration of emotions that might otherwise remain unspoken and bring to the fore ‘hidden factors of belonging at play’ (Hartlep et al., 2024: xxi).
The act of writing itself enables an individual to externalize internal struggles, giving them form and weight. In the case of academics, poetry can serve as both a personal and collective response to challenges. By distilling experiences into poetic form, the writer gains a sense of control over their narrative, reshaping pain and frustration into something that demands recognition (Hovey et al., 2018). Moreover, poetry transcends the limitations of conventional academic discussions on equity and inclusion.
While research and policy discussions often focus on systemic barriers, poetry offers a deeply personal insight into the lived realities of those who experience these barriers firsthand. It invites readers to engage not just intellectually but emotionally, allowing them to connect on a deeper level with the writer's experiences. In doing so, poetry can disrupt the distancing effect of academic language, foregrounding feeling, vulnerability, and complexity as legitimate forms of knowledge. It can speak to what is often left unsaid in formal discourse — the silences, tensions, and affective costs of navigating institutional life. The following poem is one such example.
In my role, I have often found myself rendered invisible in the very spaces where I am expected to hold authority, guide students, and inspire others. This invisibility is not just about being overlooked or disregarded; it is a deeper, more insidious experience, where my sense of belonging is continuously undermined by racial and gendered assumptions (Rainey et al., 2018). Despite holding the necessary qualifications, experience, and achievements that qualify me for my position, my identity as a coloured person frequently challenges the legitimacy of my authority in ways that feel personal and systemic.
From the beginning of my career, till present day, I faced scepticism and phrases such as “Are you really the lecturer?” or “You can’t possibly be teaching this subject” “you speak such fluent English” became commonplace. These remarks were not just doubts about my expertise; they reflected assumptions about who ‘belongs’ in academic spaces. The poem therefore encapsulates the struggle for visibility within academic spaces, reflecting how belonging is not always granted but must often be asserted and reclaimed. The recurring theme of invisibility—“a shadow in a sea of faces”—illustrates the emotional toll of constantly being overlooked, misidentified, or ignored.
The frustration at being questioned—“Are you the lecturer?”—highlights the legitimacy gap faced by many marginalized academics, whose authority is frequently challenged based on race, gender, or other aspects of identity. Yet, the poem does not end in resignation. Instead, it conveys a quiet but powerful resistance. The assertion “Yet still, I persist, I stand, I teach.” speaks to the resilience of those who continue to assert their place in academia despite systemic and interpersonal barriers. The final lines are a testament to resilience, to belonging, emphasizing that belonging is not merely about being acknowledged by others but about claiming one's rightful space.
This use of poetry has demonstrated that belonging in academia is not just a structural issue but also an emotional and psychological experience (Rickett & Morris, 2020). While institutions focus on policies aimed at improving diversity and inclusion, the actual sense of belonging is cultivated in the everyday interactions, recognitions, and affirmations that shape an academic's identity. Poetry also highlighted the gap between policy and experience, making it clear that true belonging must address not just representation but also recognition and respect as a situated practice (Gravett & Ajjawi, 2021).
Situated practice, drawing on Freire's (1970) concept of dialogic recognition, means engaging with people's identities and experiences as valid and generative. For example, through inclusive authorship practices, equitable workload distribution, valuing different forms of scholarship (including community-engaged or creative work), and creating space in meetings for reflective and relational dialogue by responding to contributions with curiosity rather than correction, and rather than it being purely operational concerns.
Attention must also be paid to how power operates — who is interrupted, who must explain themselves, and who is heard as authoritative. These subtle acts reflect what Bourdieu (1991) terms symbolic violence: the everyday reproduction of hierarchy through language and habitus. Mentorship, allyship, and co-authorship across difference offer meaningful recognition when rooted in care and reciprocity, not tokenism. In this way, belonging becomes a practice grounded in listening, witnessing, and valuing the presence of others in all their complexity.
Furthermore, poetry can serve as a bridge between personal reflection and collective dialogue. When shared, it has the potential to create spaces of empathy and understanding, encouraging others—both within and beyond academia—to reflect on their own roles in fostering or hindering belonging. It also challenges institutions to go beyond surface-level commitments to acknowledge the deeply felt realities of those who struggle to belong (Carter et al., 2023). Ultimately, the poems exemplify how creative expression can be a form of resistance, validation, and reclamation of space. It affirms that belonging is not simply granted by institutions—it is asserted by those who refuse to remain unseen.
Storytelling as a Creative act of Resistance and a Pathway to Belonging in Academia
Storytelling is a powerful tool for challenging exclusion, reshaping narratives, and reclaiming visibility in spaces where voices are overlooked (Anderson et al., 2024). In academia, storytelling becomes an act of resistance, one that affirms identity, builds solidarity, and creates a counter-narrative to institutional norms (Baxter, 2020). Stories not only validate one's own struggles but also provide recognition for others who may feel similarly isolated. Phillips and Bunda (2018) highlight how storytelling disrupts dominant knowledge systems that prioritize detached, objective scholarship over the lived realities of those navigating academia from the margins. They offer a powerful means of reclaiming space, shifting discussions from abstract debates about equity to deeply felt, human experiences (McAdams & McLean, 2013). By doing so, storytelling fosters a more authentic dialogue about belonging, one that moves beyond tokenism and into meaningful engagement.
Professor Daali, a vibrant young parrot with feathers the color of a sunset, was bursting with excitement. Her first day as a lecturer at the prestigious “Jungle University” had arrived. She'd meticulously prepared her lecture on the fascinating flight patterns of the Amazonian macaw, even practicing her delivery to a captive audience of crickets. Then, disaster struck. Quokka, a small marsupial with perpetually raised eyebrows and a skeptical glint in his eye, surveyed Professor Daali from head to toe. “Are you sure you're the lecturer?” he drawled, his voice dripping with doubt. “You don’t look like one?” “How old are you?” The lecture hall, filled with a diverse array of students – from sleepy sloths to energetic squirrels – fell silent. Professor Daali's feathers ruffled. Her voice, usually strong and melodious, faltered. “Y-yes, I am,” she stammered, feeling a pang of self-doubt. Weeks turned into months, and Quokka's question continued to echo in Professor Daali's mind. “Do I truly belong here?” she'd ask herself as she nervously shuffled into faculty meetings. She felt like a misplaced monkey in a penguin colony, constantly second-guessing her every decision. Then came the fateful departmental meeting with Professor Growl, a grumpy old grizzly bear known for his gruff demeanour and unwavering opinions. Professor Daali, emboldened by a recent reading on the importance of diverse perspectives, spoke up about the lack of representation in the curriculum. “We've always done things this way,” Professor Growl rumbled, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his paw. But Professor Daali, a parrot with a stubborn streak, refused to be silenced. She gently, but persistently, continued to advocate for change. Soon, she found an unlikely ally in Catrina, a sleek black cat with a sharp intellect and a quiet confidence. Catrina, intrigued by Professor Penelope's passion, began to support her efforts. Gradually, other faculty members, from the wise old owl to the curious chameleon, started to join the conversation. Professor Daali, nurtured by this growing support, discovered a resilience she never knew she possessed. Her voice, once timid, grew stronger, more confident. And then, it happened. In another departmental meeting, Professor Growl, to everyone's surprise, declared, “We need to explore ways to make our curriculum more inclusive.” Professor Daali smiled, a sense of accomplishment washing over her. It wasn't just her voice anymore; it was the collective voice of the faculty. She had found her place, her voice mattered. Professor Daali learned a valuable lesson: resilience wasn't about never experiencing doubt. It was about facing those doubts head-on, showing up, and remembering that you belong. The next time Quokka raised an eyebrow, or any other student questioned her, Professor Daali would take a deep breath and stand tall. She was here, she belonged, and she was making a difference.
While universities often promote belonging rhetorically, storytelling exposes the gap, shedding light on the realities that may remain obscure (Saltmarshe, 2018). The allegorical story above captures the complexity of belonging in academia. Professor Daali, a young parrot eager to begin her lecturing role, immediately has her authority questioned—an experience that mirrors the reality faced by many academics from underrepresented backgrounds. The character of Quokka, with his persistent scepticism, symbolises the subtle biases that undermine legitimacy, while Professor Growl, the grizzly bear, embodies institutional resistance to change.
Through perseverance and the support of allies like Catrina, Professor Daali gradually asserts her place, transforming self-doubt into confidence. Her journey demonstrates that belonging is not defined by the absence of doubt, but by the persistence to claim space in the face of it. The eventual transformation of Professor Growl—from dismissive to supportive—reflects the cultural shifts that become possible when voices for equity and inclusion are consistently raised. This narrative underscores storytelling as a powerful tool for academic empowerment. It highlights the need for collective action, mentorship, and resilience in cultivating environments where diverse perspectives are not only present but genuinely valued. It reinforces the idea that true belonging is not simply bestowed, it is forged through persistence, collaboration, and the refusal to be silenced.
Importantly, storytelling is not only a form of resistance; it also builds connection. Stories can transform experiences of non-belonging into opportunities for empathy and collective understanding, fostering a more authentic academic culture (Schachtner, 2020). By incorporating storying into academic spaces, educators can bridge the distance between authority and relatability, demonstrating both vulnerability and strength in ways that resonate with students. Sharing narratives about confronting stereotypes, bias, and imposter syndrome helps students see themselves reflected in their educators, fostering mutual trust and understanding (Phillip, 2024).
In this way, storytelling enables students to engage with learning not only intellectually, but as a personal journey of identity and self-empowerment. It becomes a pedagogical tool—affirming the experiences of underrepresented academics while encouraging students to honour their own narratives. When students witness faculty members openly navigating questions of belonging, they too are inspired to challenge limiting perceptions and claim their space within higher education.
Reflection and Imagination: Turning Experience into Insight and Reclaiming Belonging
In academic spaces, where systemic biases often dictate who is seen and valued, reflective practices offer a means of uncovering the hidden hierarchies that shape belonging, and turn experiences into learning (Boud et al., 1985). Individuals can identify patterns of bias and exclusion that may otherwise go unnoticed where reflection can reveal the subtle, everyday ways in which belonging is reinforced for some while remaining tenuous for others. For example, observing how colleagues instinctively form exclusive networks in meetings, or how certain voices are consistently amplified over others, uncovers the unspoken hierarchies that govern academic spaces (Solórzano & Yosso, 2002). This awareness is the first step toward change, it allows individuals to see beyond isolated incidents and recognize the systemic structures that perpetuate belonging.
Journaling, and creative thinking allow individuals to make sense of these experiences by moving beyond the immediate (Lowe et al., 2013). The journal entry that follows is about being seen as administrative staff member which illustrates how such assumptions are not just casual oversights but carry deeper implications about who is perceived as belonging in academic spaces. These moments can be deeply disheartening, reinforcing feelings of invisibility and undermining confidence. However, reflection transforms these experiences from sources of frustration into opportunities for understanding and action. Reflection is not just about recognizing non-belonging—it is also about reimagining what belonging could look like in a more just and authentic academic environment.
The conference hall, a sea of faces, a symphony of voices, yet I felt adrift, a solitary boat on a vast, indifferent ocean. The incident, the casual dismissal, the assumption of my role, it wasn't just an insult, it was a shattering of expectations. I, who had poured my heart and soul into my research, who had meticulously prepared my presentation, was reduced to a mere functionary, a cog in the invisible machinery of the conference. But then, as the waves of disappointment threatened to capsize me, a flicker of defiance ignited within. My reflection turned inward. I began to imagine a different narrative. In this imagined world, the conference hall wasn't a static space, but a dynamic ecosystem. Every interaction, every exchange, was an opportunity for connection, for understanding. I envisioned a scenario where my colleague, instead of making assumptions, had approached me with curiosity, with a genuine desire to learn. “I'm new here,” he might have said, “and I'm still learning the ropes. Could you perhaps direct me to the nearest copy machine?” This simple shift in perspective, this acknowledgment of shared humanity, could have transformed the encounter from one of exclusion to one of collaboration.
Another experience involved a colleague who, despite several attempts to correct him, continued to call me by a name entirely different from my own. His insistence, even after multiple clarifications, led me to directly address the issue. I pointed out that this behaviour reflected racial bias and the tendency to group me with other middle eastern women, erasing my individuality. These experiences are a stark reminder that biases in academia are not always overt, but rather manifest in subtle, everyday ways that continuously undermine professional identity and a sense of belonging in these spaces.
The use of imagination as creative thinking allows individuals to challenge the assumption that exclusion is inevitable and instead envision alternative ways of interacting, collaborating, and structuring academic spaces (Cantó-Milà & Seebach, 2024). In the journal entry, the act of imagining a different response, one where curiosity replaces assumption, demonstrates how small behavioural shifts can transform exclusionary dynamics into inclusive ones. This imaginative reframing not only contests the norms that sustain marginalisation but also creates space for alternative possibilities.
Imagination, in this sense, becomes a tool for agency. Rather than passively enduring exclusion, individuals are encouraged to take initiative—experimenting with tangible, everyday changes that foster a greater sense of belonging. This is the first step toward making inclusive academic environments a lived reality.
The journal entry is not merely a reflection on the past. It is an exercise in cultivating a different future. It illustrates that belonging is not simply a matter of adapting to the structures of academia, but of reshaping them to reflect more inclusive and equitable visions of community. The shift from disheartenment to determination captures an important insight: that experiences of non-belonging, though painful, can ignite a desire for transformation. I move from experiencing marginalisation to reclaiming agency, recognising that my voice and actions can contribute to transforming academia into a space where diverse identities and perspectives are genuinely valued (Obexer, 2022). This realisation enabled me to respond assertively when the same exclusionary behaviour occurred again.
This perspective also challenges the idea that belonging is something passively granted by institutions. Instead, it frames belonging as an active process—one that involves resistance, imagination, and ongoing engagement. It is not about conforming to existing structures but about working to reshape them so they are more inclusive for future generations of scholars (Salazar Montoya, 2024). Ultimately, the journal entry reminds us that belonging is not a fixed state but a dynamic, continuous process, one of reflection, redefinition, and resistance. It affirms that meaningful inclusion cannot be achieved through policy alone; it requires intentional, creative, and sustained engagement in the everyday practices of academic life.
Creativity in Building Communities for Deep Belonging
Dyson (2024: xv) notes that “we deeply belong to vibrant communities,” reminding us that belonging in higher education is often shaped by the communities we build. Creative approaches to community-building offer powerful ways to challenge isolation and foster environments in which individuals—students and colleagues alike—feel seen, heard, and valued. Whether through mentorship, storytelling, or collaborative cultural initiatives, creativity becomes a tool for disrupting exclusionary norms and cultivating a more inclusive academic culture.
Building community in academia requires more than casual interaction; it demands intentional, sustained efforts to forge meaningful connections (Aarnikoivu & Le, 2024). Mentorship, for instance, plays a particularly vital role for students from underrepresented backgrounds. Research shows that when students see aspects of themselves reflected in their mentors, they are more likely to experience a sense of belonging and academic self-efficacy (Wright-Mair, 2020). But effective mentorship extends beyond guidance—it involves creating spaces where students can safely express their identities and experiences without fear of judgement.
Equally, fostering collegial connection necessitates challenging traditional academic hierarchies and promoting open, empathetic dialogue. While the culture of academia often centres on individual achievement and competition, creative approaches to community-building prioritise collaboration, care, and mutual support (Zhang & Goh, 2022). Simple but deliberate practices—such as shared cultural experiences, story circles, and communal reflection—can help shift the ethos of academic life.
In this way, creativity becomes more than an expressive outlet; it becomes a quiet yet powerful form of resistance. It enables the formation of academic communities that are not only intellectually rich but emotionally inclusive—spaces where belonging is not an abstract ideal but a lived, collective practice. What follows are two creative approaches—one centred on students, the other on faculty—that illustrate how community can be actively and imaginatively cultivated within higher education. Each offers a tangible example of how belonging can be nurtured through relational, inclusive, and creative practice.
A Tapestry of Cultures: Weaving Creativity into the Curriculum
To celebrate the vibrant tapestry of cultures within my student body and foster a deeper sense of belonging, I designed a “Cultural Heritage Day” as an integral part of the curriculum. This wasn't just a passive sharing of information; it was an invitation to weave creativity into the learning experience. I began by setting the stage for creative expression. Instead of a dry lecture, I transformed my presentation into a storytelling session. I shared anecdotes about my South Asian upbringing, weaving in personal reflections on how my cultural experiences shaped my worldview. I brought in vibrant textiles, the aroma of freshly brewed chai, and the rhythmic beats of traditional Persian music, inviting students to immerse themselves in the sensory experience of my heritage.
But the true magic unfolded when I invited students to become the creators. Some students composed original poems or short stories that explored their cultural identities. Others curated captivating presentations, incorporating multimedia elements like photographs, videos, and even short musical performances. One student, a talented artist, created a stunning mural that depicted the diverse cultural landscape of our classroom. The result was a vibrant and dynamic celebration of cultural diversity. Laughter, lively discussions, and genuine curiosity filled the air. Students, who might have initially felt hesitant to share, found their voices and embraced the opportunity to showcase their unique perspectives.
One of the most painful and complex dimensions of my academic life is navigating the subtle biases and microaggressions that often come from the very students I strive to support—students of colour who, like me, have faced exclusion and marginalisation. Paradoxically, these students sometimes echo the same stereotypes and assumptions that have historically constrained them. In the lecture space—where I should be recognised and respected as an academic—I have often found myself overlooked or questioned, particularly by those who share my racial or ethnic background.
These moments leave me grappling with difficult questions about legitimacy and belonging: Did they not see me as a credible academic? Did they doubt my right to be there? Such questions compel reflection on how race, authority, and belonging intersect in higher education. Even within marginalised communities, deeply embedded stereotypes can shape perceptions of who is allowed to lead, to teach, and to belong. I am therefore left sitting with the emotional weight of teaching in contexts where I am not always recognised as a fully human, complex subject.
This is why the “tapestry of cultures” was more than a creative exercise—it was a powerful intervention. It showed how art and cultural expression can bridge divides and reimagine academic space as one of connection and community. One of the most effective ways to foster belonging in higher education is through the deliberate embedding of cultural recognition and expression (Blake et al., 2022). The tapestry initiative exemplified how creativity can transform classrooms into spaces of celebration and shared meaning.
Rather than treat belonging as an abstract value, the project made it tangible—an immersive experience inviting students to share cultural narratives in visible and embodied ways (Sung & Gounko, 2023). Through storytelling, music, sensory engagement, and student-led creative projects, the classroom became a dynamic cultural hub. Students who had been hesitant to express their identities found new avenues—poetry, art, multimedia, performance—through which to speak. This process not only validated their experiences but affirmed that their unique perspectives were essential contributions to the learning environment (Leroy et al., 2021).
This kind of creative engagement challenged the idea that academic spaces must be neutral or detached from identity. Instead, it affirmed what many educators know: belonging and learning are deepened when students bring their whole selves. By embedding creativity into pedagogy, educators can build connection, resist exclusionary norms, and create spaces where all students feel they belong (Bunting & Hill, 2021).
Just as creativity can foster belonging among students, it can also be a transformative tool for building community among faculty. Story telling for colleagues illustrates how it can be used to cultivate empathy and solidarity. In a profession where faculty often feel isolated in their struggles, sharing personal narratives can shift the dynamic from one of silent endurance to one of collective support (Hurd & Singh, 2021/2020). The following story circle was not about presenting research or offering solutions but about fostering genuine connection through shared experience. As Strayhorn (2024: xxiv) notes, ‘if stories sit at the heart of belonging, then it is through stories and storying that we can unearth and explore the core essence of belonging’.
Weaving Connections: the art of Storytelling in Academia
To break the ice and foster deeper connections among my colleagues, I introduced a “Story Circle” – a space for shared vulnerability and creative expression. The concept was simple: each of us would take turns weaving a narrative from the tapestry of our academic journeys, sharing a challenge, a triumph, or a pivotal moment.
But this wasn't merely a recitation of facts; it was an invitation to engage in the art of storytelling. We were encouraged to infuse our narratives with emotion, imagery, and personal reflections. The goal wasn't to offer solutions or advice, but to create a safe space for empathy and understanding, where we could truly listen to the unique rhythms of each other's experiences.
As the stories unfolded, a powerful sense of shared humanity emerged. One colleague, with poignant honesty, described the invisible barriers they faced as a minority in their field, their voice often unheard amidst the dominant narratives. Another, with a touch of humour, recounted a “Eureka!” moment, a breakthrough in their research that had challenged their assumptions and opened new avenues of inquiry.
I emphasized the importance of finding solidarity in shared struggles, highlighting how the act of storytelling could transform these shared experiences from sources of isolation into catalysts for collective action. By the end of the session, a palpable sense of camaraderie had blossomed. We had not just exchanged information; we had shared pieces of ourselves, our vulnerabilities, and our triumphs. The story circle became a testament to the power of storytelling to bridge divides, foster empathy, and create a more inclusive and supportive academic community.
By encouraging colleagues to infuse their narratives with emotion, imagery, and reflection, the storytelling process moved beyond intellectual discourse to engage with reflections of the realities of academic life (Collini, 2012). Faculty members shared moments of exclusion, breakthrough, and self-discovery, finding common ground in their struggles and triumphs, which underscored the importance of creative, non-hierarchical spaces for engagement.
The concept of deep belonging, as proposed by Dyson (2024), emerged here as a profound and enduring connection within a group, forged through shared experiences and common aspirations. It provided the group with narratives of resilience and determination that inspire and reignite the struggle. Additionally, deep belonging offered protection and prepared members to face hostile environments, or to confront moments when they question their worth or place as academics. Academic spaces often focus on formal meetings and structured discussions that leave little room for vulnerability. In contrast, the story circle embraced storytelling as a communal practice, presenting an alternative model where faculty could fully engage, bringing their authentic selves to the conversation, strengthening connections, and nurturing a culture of deep belonging.
Both the tapestry of cultures and story circles approaches underscore the transformative power of creative approaches in cultivating inclusive academic communities. They go beyond mere representation, demonstrating that true belonging is fostered through active participation, authentic expression, and meaningful connection (Allen et al., 2021). Creativity served as a bridge, enabling individuals to move from the periphery to the centre, shifting belonging from a passive state to an engaged experience where every voice is acknowledged, respected, and valued. By fostering spaces where storytelling, cultural expression, and shared narratives thrive, these approaches not only empower individuals but also strengthen the collective fabric of the academic community, ensuring that belonging is not just present but deeply integrated and celebrated.
Creativity as Resistance with the Burden of Change
Despite its transformative potential, the burden of using creativity to carve out belonging often falls disproportionately on those already navigating multiple layers of marginalization. For many, like me, creativity can become a tool of resistance, a means of making sense of my experiences, and a way of pushing back against exclusionary structures while simultaneously fulfilling academic responsibilities. These are powerful ways to challenge dominant narratives, yet they also require emotional, mental, and intellectual labour, labour that is often neither recognized nor compensated.
This expectation, that marginalized academics must continually resist, create, and advocate in order to be seen, reveals a fundamental flaw in how higher education approaches the idea of belonging. The responsibility to foster belonging should not rest solely on those most affected by its exclusion. The expectation that one must prove their worth, justify their perspectives, and carve out spaces for themselves reflects a complacency that treats belonging as an individual achievement rather than a collective responsibility. When the burden falls disproportionately on those already excluded, it reinforces the very inequities that belonging efforts claim to address.
I have had to navigate this reality firsthand, constantly finding creative ways to channel and cope with the microaggressions, biases, and cultural stereotypes that shape my experience and make me question ‘do I belong here?’. Further, through self-censorship, over-preparing to counter scepticism, or expending emotional labour to educate others, I have been forced to construct my own sense of belonging. This often comes at a cost, mental exhaustion, diminished authenticity, and the pressure to assimilate rather than thrive as one's full self.
Poetry, storytelling, and imaginative reflective practices then became acts of resistance that challenged not only institutional norms but also conventional notions of belonging. Rather than framing belonging as assimilation into dominant academic cultures, such as adopting the language, behaviours, and values of the dominant culture, creative practices foregrounded belonging as relational, affective, and becoming. Rooted in difference rather than sameness, it was where marginalised voices were not merely included but centred as knowledge producers (Hooks, 1994).
Belonging then, is affective, situated, and co-constructed. It is relational and an emergent process, grounded in mutual recognition, shared vulnerability, and the freedom to speak in one's own voice. Haraway's (2016) concept of becoming-with shifts belonging from static membership to a co-created and ethical encounter, where shared practices and mutual recognition shape more inclusive forms of connection. Viewed this way, creative practices are not just expressive tools, but epistemological interventions that reimagine belonging as emergent, contested, and co-authored, something felt, lived, and continuously made.
Final Reflection: the Weight of Belonging, the Work of Becoming
Belonging should not be something academics fight for or prove that they deserve. It should not be contingent on our ability to endure, adapt, or add value through our difference because “we simply cannot do this work without being who we are” (Loch & Black, 2016). True belonging is not a given nor a personal project; it must be cultivated, nurtured, and actively protected. There must be a commitment by all those involved - institutions, leadership, colleagues, and students must take an active role - actively dismantling the barriers that necessitate such individual resilience in the first place. Until this shift occurs, creativity will remain a necessary but exhausting tool of resistance, where those who experience non-belonging will continue to bear the weight of their own inclusion. And this is not just unsustainable—it is unjust.
Belonging flourishes when people feel seen, heard, and valued—not just as participants but as co-creators of the spaces they inhabit. It emerges in the relationships we build, the stories we tell, and the ways we make room for difference while honouring connection. When belonging is recognised as a dynamic and evolving practice, and what it means for academics, it can move beyond surface-level initiatives and towards deeper, more meaningful engagement. However, for many, the journey toward belonging is still fraught with barriers, where I also recognise that belonging is a widely felt concern across academia. The persistence of imposter syndrome for example, even among those with tenure or institutional success, speaks to the emotional and existential toll of academic cultures that often prioritise competition, individualism, and disembodied forms of knowledge. Therefore, centring creativity and collective expression would benefit everyone and should not be limited to those facing visible or named marginalisation.
However, while the feeling of not belonging may be widely shared, the conditions that produce that feeling are not
And it is here where creativity provides a way to challenge these obstacles, reclaim narratives, and imagine new possibilities by allowing for alternative ways of understanding and experiencing belonging. It challenges the unspoken, the invisible, and the silence. It empowers, disrupts, troubles, and creates new possibilities because belonging itself is not a static state; it is dynamic, messy, evolving, and deeply personal. In this spirit, I leave you with the following.
Footnotes
Author Contribution(s)
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Data Availability Statement
No new data were created or analysed during this study. Data sharing is not applicable to this article.