Radical Self-care and Tutoring/Tutor Training: Prioritizing Rest and the Core Mission

Repurposed from material originally written for a journal audience, this essay focuses at times on administrators, professional tutoring staff, and student tutors.

Following the 2024 U.S. presidential election, influencer Nikki Free used AI to create a digital image of Black women sitting on a rooftop, beverage in hand, watching the world burn. There is no shock and awe on the women’s faces. No frantic gestures for help or attempts to quell the fires. Just straight backs and relaxed shoulders, legs bent calmly over the ledge, dignified afros and braids framing nonchalant glances, as flames shoot out of skyscrapers and black smoke billows in the distance. This scene tells the story of Black women’s resignation after our warnings went unheeded. We sounded the alarm of a second Trump presidency—mobilized, fundraised, and got out the vote (92% of Black women voters in favor of Harris), but the world refused to listen. So now, we’re “stepping back” (Free).

As a Black woman in the “moms and aunties” demographic that most resonated with the viral image (Foley), I share Free’s sentiments: “Many Black women are feeling exhausted—disappointed, let down, and tired of always being the moral compass for a nation that seems to reject us at every turn.” For our own survival, we must prioritize “the power of rest, healing, and self-preservation.” And yet, I also agree with Roxane Gay’s post-election critique in which she scolds “American tolerance for the unacceptable.” It is “shameful and cowardly,” she contends, to “yield even a little to Mr. Trump’s odious politics” and to “abandon the most vulnerable communities to assuage the most powerful” (“Enough”). I find myself caught between these non-negotiables: “self-preservation” and safeguarding the values that make us and writing centers more rather than less humane. Prioritizing my physical, mental, and spiritual wellbeing while maintaining diversity, equity and inclusion efforts in the center is not (and should not be) mutually exclusive, but Black women continue to carry disproportionate burdens in the ongoing fight for justice. We do the work that others have often been unwilling to champion, advocating for freedoms for all while the oppressions we suffer compound (Jordan). I am also aware that my presence as one of a few BIPOC center directors in the country and one committed to antiracism and inclusion create a kind of double jeopardy that widens the target on my back. With dueling imperatives in mind, I offer these strategies for holding radical self-care and resistance in tandem.

In Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto, Tricia Hersey, founder of The Nap Ministry, takes aim at capitalism and white supremacy, which sponsor grind culture. She argues that “exhaustion is not a normal way of living,” and we should “resist anything that does not center [our] divinity as a human being.” Creating space to rest—to slow down, nap, sleep, meditate, connect to Spirit, unplug, disconnect from trauma cycles, to understand our worth independent of our labor—enriches our ability to “imagine, invent, and heal.” Informed by womanism and Black liberation theology, Hersey’s rest manifesto has inspired my renewed commitment to rest as radical self-care. Rather than allowing the machinations of the current administration or the machine of academia to keep me in a perpetual state of unrest and dis-ease, I am finding ways to invest daily in my own thriving. Prayer walks and sacred readings, eating with intention rather than on-the-go, physical and mental rest attuned to what my body and mind need for optimal health are awakening my “dream space,” the place where I heal and imagine creative ways to attain the futures we deserve.

I encourage center directors and tutoring staff to consider how you can embrace rest as radical self-care in your own life and work. As the constraints and pressures that we encounter vary, one-size-fits-all practices may be ill-advised. There is one, however, that I believe we would all do well to embody—refuse to surrender your joy and wellbeing. The incessant, repugnant attacks are intended to keep us reeling, too overwhelmed, dispirited, and afraid to resist. A regular, unapologetic self-care practice can help us maintain equilibrium when external systems are in flux. Therefore, take inventory of the things that enrich or deplete you and then give yourself permission to make life-sustaining changes. You can start small. Five minutes of contemplation. A 15-minute walk. Watching the sunrise. Saying “no” when you really do not want to say “yes.” Whatever it is, do something that you enjoy, something good for you to remind yourself that you deserve care, that there is beauty beyond the chaos, and that caring for yourself is indispensable. When political and administrative pressures increase, ramp up your self-care. We need more rest, not less, to thrive in perilous times.

College students are notoriously bad at self-care, so student tutors may need help avoiding common pitfalls, like overscheduling, skipping meals, and working when ill. We can assure tutors that we expect them to take care and that they will be better tutors if they do. Provide snacks, or meals (if possible) when meetings overlap dinner hours, or invite tutors to bring their own. Encourage them to take time off when they need it and consider scaling back or modifying center programming when tutors seem stressed or are struggling to keep up. We might also try starting tutor meetings with play or wellness activities and/or holding tutor gatherings dedicated to playfulness and rejuvenation. Last year, I was surprised to find a handful of tutors enthralled in a word-guessing game when I arrived to set up the space for a meeting. Some of them I had never seen so gleeful or animated, so I encouraged them to keep the game going as more tutors arrived. Their merriment was infectious. Other tutors were eager to join in, and that energy carried over into a lively discussion of tutoring pedagogy.

In some ways, radical self-care is easier to achieve and maintain than resistance in the workplace. With persistent effort, we can develop new self-care habits and make them an immutable priority, but there may also be changes afoot that we cannot control. Budget reductions, website realignments, and programmatic shifts can create a cascade of disruptions almost as wearying and unpredictable as the barrage of tariffs and executive orders. Yet, amid the uncertainty, tutoring and tutor training remain in my mind recurring sites of radical resistance and therefore times of refreshing. They are spaces of our creation and design, times when we can cultivate the capacities needed for more just and humane futures. When we tutor and when we train others to do the same, we can teach and learn ways of being together through language that reveal our better selves. We learn to recognize difference without colonizing, to engage ideas without coopting, and to imagine together future possibilities for writers and their words that expand our worlds.

Here is a scenario from my own tutoring, along with correlating principles, that I shared with new and returning student writing tutors. I invite you to consider their viability for your own practice.

A first-year, Black American doctoral student comes to you to figure out how to approach their next writing assignment or if they should even try. Discouraged and on the verge of quitting, they spread their papers out on the table and collapse into the chair next to you, exclaiming, “I’m so glad you’re here! I need help!!” You welcome them, assure them that you will indeed help, and encourage them to start at the beginning. Soon you learn that the student, who was highly successful in the public sphere and has substantial writing experience, is struggling to meet the writing expectations in their program. Copious in-line and marginal comments on their first two critical historiography papers left them questioning their writing ability and if they belong in the academy. How do you proceed?

In centers where morality and justice rule the day:

• Tutoring should be more relational than transactional.^[1] We invite people into community through language, celebrating the ways that conversations about writing can bring us together rather than push people out. We listen deeply to understand and to connect across points of divergence and convergence. (e.g. “Thank you for sharing your experience with me. I can see why this is so frustrating for you and empathize with the challenges of acclimating to an advanced degree program, especially when you are the only or one of a few students of color. I know what that feels like.” OR “I know what it feels like to question if you belong. Have you found community in your program, or does it seem like you are going it alone?”)
• Tutoring should be reciprocal. When writers share their ideas or drafts, they expose themselves to a measure of risk. At stake is their sense of identity and belonging in an institutional culture that may or may not hold the same culturally-situated meanings and linguistic practices. As a tutor, you can help mitigate the risk through a reciprocal exchange of ideas that enables you and your tutee to be self-reflexive. (e.g. “In my own doctoral program, I was initially concerned about feedback that I received on my writing. In one instance, it seemed that the professor’s stylistic preferences were not my own. In another, the professor was taking my ideas seriously and pushing me to go deeper. What do you think is happening here?”)
• Tutoring should challenge normativity. As we have discussed at length, there is no one right way to write, but there are preferences, biases, genres, and disciplinary and institutional norms. Consider what may be shaping your responses when you review drafts. Does the impulse to “correct” override the desire to engage in conversation about rhetorical and grammatical choices? Do you provide rationales for your recommendations? In your reflection journal, consider what more you can learn by questioning what motivates you to respond as you do to writers and their texts. How can you best support writers whose language choices or rhetorical approaches may be countercultural? (e.g. “Based on what you’ve shared and my review of your writing, you seem to be a strong writer who is in the process of learning new genre-specific conventions. This is a common experience and something that we can work through together.” OR “Based on what you’ve shared and my review of your writing, you seem to be encountering a difference in stylistic preferences. Have you spoken with the professor about their feedback and your concerns? This situation can be challenging to navigate but also a good opportunity to begin shaping an academic voice of your own. Who are some of your favorite writers in your field and why?)
• Tutor training must be strategic. As tempting as it may be to focus solely on the paper and the looming deadline, remember that you are speaking to another human being. Just like you, they bring their ideologies and cultures, aspirations and feelings, notions of what writing centers do and do not do, sometimes trauma from linguistic bias, and hopes that pressing their way to the center will prove worthwhile. Engaging with the person behind the writing is one of the reasons why it is worth it for all of us. In an increasingly AI-generated world, we need more spaces for genuine human connection.
• Tutor training must be ongoing. We continue to return to real scenarios like this to disrupt deficit narratives. Presumptions about inadequate preparation for college-level study are more pervasive than we may realize and can distract attention from the systemic issues in need of redress. Additionally, there are interventions that tutors can make when they view the tutorial as a relational space. It begins with a willingness to engage the person behind the writing and to consider their experience alongside our own.

While I believe any tutor can respond thoughtfully and effectively to the aforementioned scenario, especially with intentional training, it is important to note that the student sought me out in part because of our shared cultural heritage. To the fullest extent possible, we must continue hiring and training tutors across the spectrum of cultures and positionalities so that everyone knows they are welcome in our centers, and no one tutor carries the burden of token representation. A diverse community of tutors attuned to the irrepressible beauty of equity and inclusion can shift the balance towards justice, one tutorial at a time. This excerpt from my plenary address for the 2025 Second Annual Hume Tutoring Symposium, a half-day conference hosted by the writing and speaking center for campus tutors across subject matters, underscores the point:

We are engaging in conversations about wellness and self-care, multimodality, generative AI, and tutoring spaces and values at a time that for many is uncertain and fearful. The repeal of diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives; seizure of immigrants without due process; infringement upon freedom of speech; the rescinding of U.S. fellowships and grants, as well as foreign aid; mass layoffs and firings; the dismantling of Medicaid, HeadStart, and other programs serving those with the greatest needs—all these actions and more are part of a political soundscape playing in the background of our one-to-one sessions. We and our interlocutors may be directly impacted by these matters and/or carrying the emotional weight of impending upheaval. It is my hope that forums like this can provide some stability, a supportive community and shared wisdom that encourages us to continue our important work despite the very real challenges ahead. At our core, we are people who value interconnection. Our one-to-one dialogues and collaborations are recurring opportunities for enacting the best of humanity. They are sites of engagement where we can champion respect and appreciation for difference, curiosity and openness to learning with and from others, reciprocal vulnerability and shared authority, and mutual awareness and responsibility for our impact on others.

This year’s attendees included students enrolled in the writing tutor training seminar. Their tutor interview, seminar preparation, and now the tutoring symposium position them to understand writing tutoring as a radical space of transformation (for them and their tutees). Envisioning tutoring and tutor training as world-changing endeavors can be intimidating, but I remind them as I remind myself: we need only to plant seeds. Sustained transformation happens over time through a host of experiences. We are one critical part of that process.

Relationships are hard. Being connected to others requires a level of engagement and vulnerability that is sometimes too much. Too personal. Too demanding. Too risky. Too fill in the blank. Yet, as much as they may require of us, relationships can also be reinvigorating. In relationship with others, through shared experiences, mutual consideration, reciprocal risk-taking, and genuine care or affection (to name a few!), we open ourselves to transformative possibilities, to deeper, better understandings of ourselves in relation to others that can be world-changing. Though I may retreat temporarily for self-care, the promise of change keeps me coming back.

Works Cited

Free, Nikki. Black women on a rooftop watching the city burn. Instagram, 22 Nov. 2024.

Foley, Aaron. “This Viral Image Shows How Tired Black Women are Following the Election…But There’s Still a Divide.” The Root, 26 Nov. 2024. Accessed 6 July 2025.

Gay, Roxane. “Enough.” The New York Times, 17 Nov. 2024. Accessed 6 July 2025.

Hersey, Tricia. “Introduction.” Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto. Narrated by the author. Audible, 2022.

Jordan, Zandra L. “Womanist Way-Making in Writing Center Administration: Reflections on Marginalization and Resistance.” Disruptive Stories: Amplifying Voices from the Writing Center Margins, edited by Elizabeth Kleinfeld, Sohui Lee, and Julie Prebel, University Press of Colorado, 2024, pp. 199–214.

[1] I was pleased to hear the 2025 IWCA-NCPTW keynote speaker Karen Moroski-Rigney make a similar claim. In her address, “Metamorphosis: Changing Together,” Moroski-Rigney asserted that writing centers, the people, places, and things that constitute them, are relational. It’s the ways that we “think, connect, and show up for one another [that] make a writing center a writing center.” Moroski-Rigney emphasizes belonging and access as essential parts of what we do in writing centers and therefore reasons that “we belong to one another” rather than to a space. For me, the cornerstone concept is community, and belonging is inherent to one’s sense of group membership.