The Hidden Curriculum of Identity: How Ethnic-Racial Self-Knowledge Fuels Academic Success and Personal Growth in Higher Education
Shandra Jones never imagined she’d be walking across the stage to receive her Ph.D. at the same time her teenage daughter would be preparing to graduate from high school. The timing, unplanned but serendipitous, symbolized a generational moment of reckoning—one where education, identity, and family converged with purpose. For Jones, who had spent nearly a decade navigating elite academic institutions and conducting rigorous research into equity in education, the journey to that graduation stage was not only academic. It was intensely personal. And in the broader world of higher education, her story points to a growing realization: student success is not just about academic readiness or test scores. It’s deeply tied to a student’s ability to see, understand, and affirm their own identity in spaces that haven’t always valued that understanding.
Growing up in Prichard, Alabama, Jones came of age in a tight-knit, predominantly Black working-class neighborhood. Her mother, a single parent who narrowly earned too much for government aid, stretched every dollar to keep the household afloat. From the outside, this might have looked like a limitation. But inside the home and within the neighborhood, there was a powerful, if often invisible, source of strength: the communal knowledge, cultural wealth, and emotional intelligence that shaped her earliest understandings of what it meant to be capable. These assets weren’t on a college application, but they laid the foundation for a lifetime of resilience.
Years later, after a successful stint in student affairs and college administration, Jones returned to academia, enrolling in a Ph.D. program not to collect another credential, but to answer a question that had followed her since undergrad: why do students from similar backgrounds experience such drastically different outcomes in higher education? The students she grew up with were smart, driven, and full of dreams, yet so many of them never had the chance to thrive in the ways she had. That question gnawed at her. It wasn’t about ability. It was about something else—something more nuanced.
The answer, she discovered through years of study and a nationwide survey of college students, lies in what she calls a “portfolio of assets.” This portfolio includes the cultural, ethnic, racial, and socio-emotional tools we bring into college—things like a strong sense of identity, familial support, resilience developed through adversity, and a clear understanding of where one comes from. And it turns out, these assets matter far more than we’ve traditionally acknowledged when it comes to student success. Especially in elite or predominantly white institutions, students from marginalized backgrounds often find themselves navigating an invisible curriculum—a constant balancing act of code-switching, identity negotiation, and fighting to be seen.
Jones’s research revealed a compelling truth: students who are given the space and resources to explore and affirm their ethnic-racial identity tend to perform better academically, have stronger mental health outcomes, and feel more socially integrated on campus. This finding resonates deeply in an era where the business of higher education is increasingly intertwined with student mental health, retention strategies, and the long-term return on investment of a college degree. Institutions that want to enhance student outcomes—and, by extension, protect their own reputations and endowments—should be paying close attention.
But these insights aren’t just about policy reform or curriculum change. They touch something more personal, more human. Jones recalls moments during her own time as a first-generation college student at Stanford when she felt the weight of otherness in seminar rooms, in residence halls, and even in conversations with peers. She knew she was smart enough. She had made it. But the unspoken question often lingered: do I belong here?
She saw similar struggles in the students she worked with in financial aid and admissions—brilliant young people who could solve complex equations or deliver moving personal essays, yet still questioned their place because no one ever taught them how to integrate their background into their academic journey. This dissonance, over time, can erode confidence, contribute to imposter syndrome, and even push students out of college altogether.
That’s why Jones believes the work of higher education must include more than instruction—it must include identity cultivation. Students should not be asked to leave parts of themselves at the door when they step into a classroom. Instead, colleges should actively create environments where students are encouraged to examine and celebrate the full breadth of who they are. This doesn’t just benefit marginalized students. It benefits everyone. A student who understands their identity is more likely to make intentional choices about their major, their career path, and the communities they serve. That kind of clarity is invaluable in today’s increasingly global and diverse workforce, where emotional intelligence and cross-cultural literacy are essential professional assets.
This shift toward holistic, identity-affirming education is gaining traction in part because it aligns with the growing demand among families and students for institutions that provide not only academic rigor but also psychological safety. Affluent families—many of whom are navigating elite admissions landscapes—are increasingly aware that a school’s true value lies not only in rankings but in the well-being and long-term flourishing of its graduates. With tuition fees soaring and the student debt crisis prompting serious reflection on the value proposition of a college education, elite universities are being held to a higher standard. Families want assurances that their investments will lead to success—not just in earnings, but in happiness, purpose, and social impact.
Jones’s postdoctoral journey reflects this deeper commitment. After finishing her degree, she moved to Durham, North Carolina, to take a leadership role at Self-Help Credit Union, a nationally respected institution that channels financial resources into underfunded communities. In this role, she is blending rigorous research with practical, community-centered solutions—bringing her academic expertise on identity and equity directly into the realm of economic justice. Whether helping first-time homeowners or supporting entrepreneurs from marginalized communities, her work continues to center on empowering people to recognize and use their assets. And that, in essence, is what higher education at its best should do.
The irony, she notes with a smile, is that her teenage daughter has watched this journey unfold in real-time. The long nights of dissertation writing, the cross-country travel for conferences, the deep conversations about race, identity, and purpose—these weren’t abstract concepts in the Jones household. They were dinner table discussions. As her daughter prepares to head off to college, she carries with her a lived example of what it means to pursue knowledge not as an escape, but as a return—to self, to community, to purpose.
In Jones’s view, the future of higher education hinges on whether institutions can recognize what their students are already carrying with them. The industry has long focused on what students lack—gaps in test scores, weaknesses in writing, deficiencies in preparation. But the real innovation lies in flipping that narrative. What if, instead of remediation, we invested in revelation? What if orientation programs helped students reflect on their cultural narratives? What if advisors asked about home life and community assets? What if faculty were trained to recognize and nurture the unique forms of intelligence that don’t always show up on a syllabus?
These changes are not just idealistic. They are economically wise. As institutions compete for top talent and strive to improve graduation rates, embracing the full humanity of students—especially those from underrepresented backgrounds—can be a strategic advantage. High-net-worth individuals and donors increasingly want to fund programs that have measurable impact on diversity, equity, and inclusion, particularly those that are rooted in research and aligned with long-term workforce trends. In an age where corporate social responsibility and ESG initiatives are influencing everything from hiring practices to investment portfolios, universities that prioritize identity development and student belonging are likely to attract both philanthropic and corporate partnerships.
In essence, the landscape of higher education is shifting. The traditional metrics of success—grades, job placement, starting salary—are no longer sufficient. Students and families are demanding more: emotional well-being, meaningful connection, and a sense that education honors not just the mind, but the whole person. Jones’s work reminds us that when we acknowledge the richness students bring with them—and equip them to use those gifts—we do more than educate. We liberate. 🎓💼🌱