This reporting deserves a Pulitzer. Now that’s out of the way, Chana Joffe-Walt and the Serial podcast is a must-listen.
While I sit in my rage, my fear of personal hypocrisy, and memories of my own education and the parallel worlds of Black and brown children alongside mine and my sons’ I cannot help but feel this odd sense of inevitability, hopelessness, and also drastic change and revolutionary, explosive change. But maybe that’s just life now; maybe many of us waver between hope and despair. But if we don’t get this right, if we don’t solve this, it is my prophetic conviction we’re headed toward doom. What this series reports is a history, the heart-pumping, breathing in and out contextual poetry of history. How did this happen? How did we get here? What might happen next? And my hopelessness is rooted in the 40% of white Americans right now who have done everything and continue to fight this war the rest of us don’t want, we reject, and we swing and miss, swing and miss, swing and miss, and strike out.
Let’s get this right.
Understand that this isn’t some other white woman speaking. This is me. These are my wealthier friends who struggled with where to send their children. This is me when my husband and I bought our first (and only house) and moved to where the reports said the schools were good. The schools, and the community, is still predominately white. Did I subconsciously think about race? I can’t honestly say. Knowing how I feel now, and knowing my own past with living overseas, I think it was a drawback because it was too homogenized. It’s my family member who lived in a very wealthy area and whose PTSA drew in thousands of dollars for already privileged children of very wealthy parents.
I’ve told this story before. I lived in Tehran for about a year, and then moved during 7th grade to a white Denver suburb. I went to a large, predominately white high school. The students had affluent parents, and many drove BMWs, Mercedes, etc., to school. I had one friend who lived in a bona fide mansion. My boyfriend’s family belonged to the Denver Country Club. Later he would tell me the reason he didn’t marry me (one reason, anyway) was because his parents wanted him to marry the daughter of their other wealthy friends. He did, they later divorced, and I am still wondering what happened to that Cinderella path. Bippity, boppity, boop. I moved my senior year to a suburb of Wilmington, Delaware. Yes, that Delaware. With Joe-Biden-as-Senator-Delaware. The high school was said to be “formerly one of the best in the state, but since busing has deteriorated.”
Understand moving my senior year was traumatic: I left the boyfriend, left my friends, left my rank as a senior to move to a state that was not nearly as beautiful as Colorado. Sorry, Delaware, you’re just not. Okay, the beaches are pretty wonderful, but yeah.
And this is where memory may falter: I don’t really remember how I felt about being around other students of color. I really don’t. I think I just thought they seemed annoyed at being there, and of course many of the other white kids were racist shits. The entire framing of the school and the experience there was surreal to me. My English teachers at the other school put me through my paces, while my senior English teacher had given up. The whole thing seemed weird, and whatever opinions I had about race, integration and school were wonky and wrong. But it seems like that’s many white people’s views: they were just wrong.
It’s in the voices of the white people on the podcast –the guilt, shame, and false naivety.
And think about Episode 3: poaching students. What the hell is this? Is every damn thing a sports arena?
“It’s like a secret they didn’t tell us.” Nadine Jackson, Episode 3
When my younger son was in middle school, he, well, was having a rough time. Following in the shadow of his highly achieving brother, school was a struggle. At one point, I wanted him to come to where I was teaching–it was objectively better. Better because the teachers wanted to be there, the programs, the freedom for project based learning, better math and science, all the way around. I’m still friends with many of the teachers who taught when I did, and while the school has many problems, it always comes down to the adults in charge. Though a Title I school, which in this context means the students’ families have financial obstacles. (I say it this way because I am raging over how our nation handles money, but that’s a story for another time.) My son would have thrived there, but he decided to stay locally because of some of his close friends, friends he still has to this day. Was I trying to replicate some kind of global or world experience for him that his mostly white school couldn’t do? Maybe. I wasn’t successful. And when I see social media posts by my white neighbors, I see they’re content and satisfied with the status quo. And even vote for a dangerous man to keep it that way.
But more integrated schools have greater flexibility: I and the counselor worked out a structure that “honors” classes were open and available to all. Contrasting, the mostly white middle school in my same district used a triage of tests because so many of the white parents wanted their children tracked in honors. And, I taught my core ELA classes with the same Honors content, and told them so. It wasn’t more work, it was offered to all, and the only difference was pacing. That’s it. We didn’t get it right when inclusion came around, and again, not the fault of the students. Inclusion was not introduced well, at the expense of many students. By the time I left, they brought back honors, but only one teacher was allowed to teach it, one of the admin’s darlings, and she would not accept late work. Period. I think she’s now teaching in my sons’ district. Interesting how that works, isn’t it?
Another memory is when our neighbors, who have a son between my sons’s ages, said how “scared he was to go” to my school during sporting events. I told him that was ridiculous, the kids were great, and I loved teaching there. But I knew it was code for “I”m scared of the Black and brown kids there.” And the power and white supremacy goes unchallenged.
My sons’ schools had active PTSAs: money, events, socials, and expensive supply lists. My teaching school had two years of an active PTSA because a white mom ran it when her daughter went to the school-within-school on campus. Now, some white women know how to get money and resources for their buildings, and keep it going. But it feels too fragile and unsustainable when the white savior is centered.
I’ve tried to get three buildings on board with ProjectLit, and they look at me askance, with polite, cold “no’s.” I’ve had to tamp down my enthusiasm many times.
Now — recently my older son and I had a great conversation about the white savior trope in teaching. He is interested in becoming a teacher, and wants to do a great job. I am keeping a weathered eye on his perfectionism, but will only assist if he asks. And in our conversation about saviorism I had the opportunity to say out loud what lives in my teaching soul. Students don’t need saving. They have parents who love them. They want the best for their child. That’s it. No need to ‘save.’ Just provide the best education you can. Keep learning. Listen. Honor the human in front of you, and be humbled–parents send their hearts to school.
But in terms of the inequities between schools, white, wealthier parents you are on notice: listen to the podcast and do your homework. Shed your defensiveness. We all make mistakes and missteps. I’ve only worked in Title I schools, and I’ve seen these programs, initiatives, etc., come through constantly. Going on 15 years, it’s 15 years of this. It’s decades of this for this nation.
Enough.
Take time to find out who’s on your local school boards, whether you have children in the district or not. Find out the demographics of the schools in your area. Find out the building sizes, and how many students go to each school. For example, my former middle school has almost 900 students for a building intended for 600. There is another that has empty classroom. Busing doesn’t work, so what does? Maybe we need to overhaul how schools are ranked? Demand that money be spread equally to the schools,
Keep reading, but more importantly, reach out. Donate, no strings, no agendas.
I read a Tweet yesterday about “canceling Lincoln.” No one is ‘canceling Lincoln.’ But I am asking teachers to do a much better job and overhaul the curriculum and framing of the Civil War.
Here are some links from the school year 2018-2019 (8th grade Humanities) and Zinn Education Resources:
Teachers: I used this document as a shared reading piece. The students came to their own conclusions: no, Lincoln did not free the slaves.
This thread by Jared Yates Sexton is also a good place to start with thinking about Lincoln’s role and shifts in philosophy.
Even as Lincoln worked to abolish slavery, he was meeting with luminaries like Frederick Douglass and telling them he didn’t believe white and black people could live together.
Douglass shocked him by telling him freed slaves just wanted to be Americans.
In 1865, Black people all over the South were saying this Union officials: Do not abolish slavery and leave us landless and disenfranchised. Do not force us to work for our former masters and call that freedom. Do not allow the law replace the master. 1/3
Contextual framing is required for teaching our history. We must teach the concepts of paradoxes, of conflict, and abstract thinking skills so students, and us teachers, too, can hold conflicting thoughts, ideas, and facts in our minds in order to construct a broader, more accurate view of history. This is the challenge in our times of transactional, binary “leadership” and thinking. We think in terms of winners and losers, and we must move and evolve to consider what harm is caused, consequences, and how fear, greed, culture and needs impact us.
Just a few facts:The US was 3rd to last in the Americas to abolish slavery.
The Emancipation Proclamation came abt partially because enslaved people were self-liberating by the thousands. Don’t let them tell you we just waited to be free.#JuneteenthDay
Just a correction- an army ship arrived, they told enslaved people it would be best to stay with your masters and work out payment, there were celebrations, but there were also massacres, the next year in an act of defiance and a celebration Juneteenth was born
— jennthetutor 🎓 👩🏾🏫 🧩 #testoptionalnow-ESQ/JD (@jennthetutor) June 19, 2020
Although news of emancipation came at different times during that Texas summer and autumn 1865, local blacks gradually settled on June 19 (Juneteenth) as their day of celebration. Beginning in 1866 they held parades, picnics, barbecues, and gave speeches in remembrance of their liberation. By 1900 the festivities had grown to include baseball games, horse races, street fairs, rodeos, railroad excursions, and formal balls. Two distinct trends emerged with these early celebrations. First the oldest of the surviving former slaves were often given a place of honor. That place of honor rose direct proportion to the dwindling numbers of survivors with each passing year. Secondly, black Texans initially used these gatherings to locate missing family members and soon they became staging areas for family reunions.
In other words: The Emancipation Proclamation was signed January 1, 1863. Enslaved peoples did not hear of the news until over two years later. And the white general and military want a medal for that. But at least Al Edwards tried to make it an office Texas state holiday. When I read some articles about it, the levels of critical thinking skills to parse out some of the underlying racism and white supremacy to all my brain power. Our nation did not honor the blood taken during the Reconstruction. We have a chance to make things better, right, and just. If you believe in a higher power, and that higher power speaks to you, listen.
“On January 1, 1980, Juneteenth became an official state holiday through the efforts of Al Edwards, an African American state legislator. The successful passage of this bill marked Juneteenth as the first emancipation celebration granted official state recognition. Edwards has since actively sought to spread the observance of Juneteenth all across America.“
If you, white person, don’t know much about Juneteenth it’s never too late. Imagine our nation and its ability to heal, and tap into its more generous and loving side, if Juneteenth had been made into a national day of remembering, asking for forgiveness, and most importantly: reparations.
I’ve just signed a petition about this bridge to dignity as seen in SELMA. It is named after a KKK grand wizard and confederate warlord. Edmund Pettus Bridge should be the John Lewis Bridge. Named for a hero. Not a murderer. Join this call. It’s past due. https://t.co/EZqu7ic0bU
Bree Newsome climbed up a flagpole and took down the racist, Confederate flag of South Carolina in 2015. I was teaching 7th grade Humanities that year, and her actions were shared with my students.
Newsome’s move, for many, was nothing short of cathartic. Weeks before, white supremacist Dylann Roof gunned down nine parishioners and injured three more during Bible study at the Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina. The day before Newsome climbed the flagpole, former President Barack Obama gave a moving eulogy for South Carolina state senator Rev. Clementa Pinckney, one of the shooting’s victims, in which he called for the removal of the Confederate flag from the statehouse grounds, describing it as “a reminder of systemic oppression and racial subjugation.”
The debate over whether or not to take down statues of the Confederacy began to heat up, and information and background history of when and why those statues were erected shared, but still the debate waged on. And nothing was done. We forgot about this work.
Just this past week, a mother of one of my favorite people, and she is a loving, Christian woman who is on his side, loves his bravery and voice, and shares his convictions, stepped out in one way –she believes the taking down of the statues is a form of censorship. Now, I am sensitive to the word ‘censorship.’ (This morning a colleague said, unequivocally, that “racist texts need and should be burned.” She didn’t cite specific works. She said it would be an anti-fa act. I said it is also a fascist act. One of the paradoxes of our times. But the book burning post is for another day.)
Instead of debating or making a case whether or not taking down statues is censorship, I had this epiphany this morning, and I am going to explore further. It came to me while listening to the news about Britain putting barricades around statues to protect them from protestors:
I do not know everything about history. I know quite little, actually, and this lack of knowledge affords me this opportunity to think about the statues and monuments I’ve encountered. If I see a statue of a man on horseback dressed in military gear, I assume he’s a famous person who has performed some act of bravery. The statue is shorthand and communicates an agreed-upon statement. If there is a statue of someone that means they did something worth getting a statue for. Right? I mean, we don’t honor horrible people, do we? We honor brave, kind, intelligent, worthy people who save lives, heal others, tell stories, or share a greater gift with the rest of humanity, right? There are statues that are works of art, fountains, monuments, that bring beauty and joy. But think: when looking at them, what assumptions do we make?
When we see Confederate military statues, or statues such as James Marion Sims, we assume heroic deeds. And that is where the true censorship happens. It happens when the voices of those enslaved, tortured, harmed, killed and exploited are silenced. The censorship happens when we don’t know whose land we’re on. And in the cruel legacy of Sims, medical students still think BIPOC don’t feel pain the same way white people do. Still. To THIS DAY. Or what treacherous and heinous acts they performed. If we do keep colonizers, slave owners, and religious zealots statues present, why not put up a huge sign that tells the whole story? Would you have known what Sims did if you just walked through the park, saw his statue, and went about your merry way? Or Columbus? Would you have known about the Taino he slaughtered? If we’re going to keep Christopher Columbus status should we put the hands of the slaughtered around his neck? And how is Georgia planning on blasting off Stone Mountain? (Look it up.) Because that one is large and horrifying.
Now, of course, I would prefer that the statues just come down. Go in a museum basement somewhere. Or melted down and made into beautiful bells and chimes. For every statue that’s taken down, if we need to replace them we have thousands waiting who truly did do wonderful things. Brave things. Acts of courage and generosity. People half-joke about putting up statues of Dolly Parton. What about Harriet Tubman? What about Ida B. Wells?
And I wouldn’t mind seeing his work in every city across this nation:
Our current institutions are in dire need of systemic overhauls, and education top of the list. Please read and keep Ilana Horn’s thread and work close to your work and research. I am. If you’re a teacher who’s work in a school during the past ten years you may have heard or read, or even supported some of the behavioral management programs. And the trend is to have a white man create, package and sell these programs. This post is going to upset some educators and colleagues, but the intent is to provide information and background, with the hope of impact being you change and help change your own classroom policies, know how to push back, and keep districts accountable.
Here are some I’ve encountered, and others I’ve read:
Teach Like a Pirate by Dave Burgess: I read this book on my own a few years ago, and it didn’t sit right with me. I am already a creative teacher, and I found the ‘pirate’ thing gimmicky. He also fan-boy’d Tony Robbins, and yeah. No. Thanks. So, I put it aside, and moved on. I am kind of repulsed by a grown man who wears a pirate-style bandana on his head and a black t-shirt. I tried to go through the #TLAP hashtag on Twitter and can’t find precise criticisms, but a whole lot of fans who gush over this work. But the criticisms tend to run toward this: It’s teacher-centered. And since 80% of teachers are white women, that’s problematic.
PBIS: PBIS stands for “Positive Behavior Interventions and Supports.” It’s based on a Tier System. Every school I’ve worked in (now at three) has used PBIS, or when I’ve gone in for interviews have been asked about my knowledge and expertise with this system.
It’s a glorified “Change your clip” chart. And these are only my observations, because life at school goes so fast, any chance to discuss and create a sustainable method falls apart. The problems with PBIS is it’s a token economy: it rarely gets to the place for students to get to internalized positive behavior motivation. I have witnessed years of students ‘gaming’ the token system, too. One year in particular, kids kept the tickets that were intended to be traded for prizes and snacks, hoarding them as the treasure or trading them on the open market. It was actually quite genius. Students know inauthentic, tokenized systems of oppression. And the more important factor which lead to lack of success and meaningful change: there wasn’t the support for students. The physical, real-time qualified adult bodies to support students. My dream: instead of school safety officers we have a counselor and adult support for every 30-50 kids, including classroom teaches, counselors, and administration. We don’t overcrowd schools in the first place. We don’t use harmful, hateful violent curriculum (looking at you, programs that use racist, colonized canon). And we stop the systems that promote meritocracy. PBIS is that.
“To be honest, after reading over 100 pages of the book (there will be a follow-up blog when I finish reading the entire book), I have to say it’s incredibly shallow and simplistic – yet the scary part is the dictatorial demand to keep everything shallow, uniform and simplistic. And as mentioned above, Lemov’s beliefs about “teaching like a champion” are beginning to co-opt what true educators really understand about teaching, child development, and engaging learners. This book is a great primer for reducing learning to uniform and robotic student behavior which is easy to “track” (Lemov’s word – not mine) and manage, in order to get the results that you want. And the results that they want are high test scores. Lemov is clear in stating that this work is gauged via state test scores.
Every parent want their child to be able to go to school and feel free to learn, free from obstructions, bullying, racism, distractions, and fear. They want to know when their child comes home after the school day they have friends, healthy relationships based on mutual respect from adults, have grown their brains, bodies, and joy. And we humans are messy. We have bad days. We experience grief, anger, frustration, and a hundred ways to express these emotions based on our upbringing, context, culture, and desires. We get stuck with labels. I don’t have the answers. Every year I’ve made mistakes. I do know there are better ways to do this. I was a troublemaker in school.
I am specifically talking to White people because we are the ones who created the problem and we are the ones who need to work towards rectifying what we have done. Plus I can only speak to the groups I am a part of and understand.
Still, others may be young and just entered the field of education. You have been raised in a White bubble (like myself) and through the purposeful guidance of our communities and family, you have not fully grasped the magnitude of the problem that permeates school. Now is the time to listen before you act. Listen to queer Black feminists and the leaders in social justice within the world of education such as Val Brown and Dr. Rosa Perez-Isaiah. Listen to professors of sociology like Dr. Tressie McMillan Cottom. Once you have listened follow the people who have been doing the work for years. Nothing you are thinking of is new. Activists have been working toward collective liberation for years. You as well are just coming into the fight in the 10th round. And we need you.
And to my fellow white teachers, whether you teach English/Language Arts, History, Science, Math, an Elective, Music, etc.–we need to talk about language and literacies. Everyone, and I mean everyone, code switches. No one speaks the ‘standard’ or “formal’ language all the time. So if you’re using language or policing BIPOC students’ language as a mean to silence them, stop. Thanks.
This is an area of study I must do more research: since becoming an ELL teacher with my ELA endorsement, it’s important for my students for me to do my best and do better.
The emotional, spiritual, education, and economic costs of racism are complex, chaotic, and connected. But there are verifiable receipts to these costs, and if I was a better statistician or social mathematician perhaps I could write with more scholarly credibility. But I do know the data are available, and historically white people have ignored these costs to others, themselves, and future generations. It costs billions to clean up fractured lives, and it can’t possibly cost as much to build sustainable, equitable lives for us all. Think about the amount of money and conscious choice it takes for Republicans to maintain their racists infrastructure of voter suppression. Think of the economic health of our nation if we ended racism and racist practices in law, civil interactions, and upheld our principals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
This post provides links to articles and data regarding the economic cost of racism.
Read these articles and consider using them in a Socratic Seminar, argumentative reading resources, etc. Ask students if they think racist policies and practices in this country have affected them, either by privilege, benefit or disadvantage.
Why should students know their rights? What if their rights are violated? What does that cost them in time, emotional and mental health, money, and opportunities? How do students advocate for themselves and others safely?
Anti-racist work for white educators: prioritize understanding how this looks like in your own classes and your relationships with students:
Finally, consider the economic costs of trauma. Racism and violence cause trauma. While trauma and injuries are not always connected with racism and racism violence, it is clearly a portion of the costs represented in the $671 billion dollar figure.
There are real, calculated costs to racism. Racism and systemic racism props up wealthy white people. It maintains their vast wealth. It maintains their infrastructure of police protections and brutality. If we continue to work toward a more just nation and world, always consider the money: who benefits, and who seeks to maintain the status quo. And speak directly to that with your voice, power, votes, and information.
I will try to write this as simply as I can. But it is long. Push back as needed.
My first job, and one where I stayed for twelve years, was a middle school located in South King County, Washington. Being at a school for that long is an honor: I became part of the teaching and family community, and being a consistent, collaborative voice was one of my greatest joys. I am still a fan, mentor, supporter, and friend of many former students who have families and lives of their own. It’s not unreasonable for me to understand since I spent more time (and often money) on my students, putting my own sons at equal or second distance through the love of my job that I would gather years’ worth of memories, notes, and communal shared respect and love. I did, however, notice a change or shift, and it’s taken me the past two years of reflection to recognize what may have been happening. I noticed during about the last two years I was there, that Black male students were hurt. So much so, often power struggles escalated to the point of being concerned for my and their safety (not from me, but from other safety officers).
From 2019-2020 (I left after the 2017-2018 school year, and may have changed the average years of teaching)
There are a few key points to share:
There were few BIPOC teachers on staff at any point in time
We did have occasionally BIPOC assistant principals and principals, but mostly white women in administrative roles
We had teams, and then we didn’t. These teams, when functional, (and the ones I was on were functional) were one of the best supports for students in our cohorts we had–hands down.
A cross-content team worked together to contact parents, confer with students we felt were in academic or emotional danger, and provide supports and shared expectations. The teams were comprised of white, Hispanic, Black, female and male teachers by default.
When we didn’t have teams, as in the last two years I was there, we had little or no support. And the support we did have was limited. We had a team of white women administrators, and that’s a story for another time.
Anyway, I began to notice Black male students were struggling. Many students were, but two in particular had a very difficult time. None of my solid classroom engagement strategies or “management” (which is a problematic word) seemed to help. And even though the current administration dabbled in culturally-relevant teaching and offered what I’m going to term as “CRT Lite” any change of substance or conversation was nonexistent.
During the penultimate year, one student of the two seemed to hate me. He was from another district, and he complained to his mom and other community advocates that I was racist or picking on him. And that was his truth. So one of the family volunteer advocates, a Black woman in the community who knew him and other BIPOC students well, asked if she could come in and observe me. Now, if I had chosen, I could have said no and had admin and union support alike. But that’s not who I am or my practice. She said she was there under the pretense of observing him. She observed me in my class a few times, and then in a quiet voice, told me, in honest surprise, that I was a good teacher and was ‘helping him.’ Well, yes.
Keep that in mind when I share this next part: the next year, my last year in that building, we had one student who also really struggled. But his story, and his actions are traumatic and painful for himself and others. My admin wanted me out, and they got their wish. I moved to another district, a building with mirror demographics of that school I was leaving. I thought it would be great: the admin practically leapt across the interview table, hired me on the spot, and off I went. I got a call from another principal in the district and when he heard I accepted the position at XYZ school, just scoffed and said, “Good luck!”
This school was in a challenging transition. They had a young, white principal who hadn’t received her admin credentials yet. She had been a teacher at a charter school for about three years. School discipline reform, much needed and long overdue, was still in its shaky beginnings. We had a restorative justice person who was forced out of the building mid-year. There were many highlights, one of which I was introduced to Zaretta Hammond’s Culturally Responsive Teaching and the Brain. However, I didn’t have anyone to collaborate on this new learning with because my previous colleagues who shared neuroscience and education work were still at my previous school. This loss of institutionalized knowledge and feelings of isolation grew. And I didn’t realize how much losing connection with my previous school’s community would affect me: but more importantly: how this loss of connection affects students.
Through that year, I had some traumatized students. Behavior is communication. And I realized, just now, that what they saw in me was a threat. A very real, present threat: another white woman teacher, just like every other white woman teacher they’d had. I was the enemy. And they treated me accordingly, and they were justified. They were justified because unless I worked very hard to check my privilege, power, and bias, they were not going to feel safe to learn.
Some facts:
The school’s population is almost 900 students in a building designed for maximum capacity of 600.
Important: I could not find data on BIPOC educators.
They came to me with having been shamed, humiliated, and judged by white lady teachers for nearly all of their schooling. Many BIPOC students have to fight all their lives to be heard, respected, and receive equitable and rigorous education. They came prepared to fight, and their movements, actions of leaving classrooms, was their way of expressing what their words couldn’t say. And if they did use words, it was often expletives and tears. They carried in their young bodies the harm of white teachers from day one. How could they see me, Mrs. Love, when I was just another middle-aged, white face? The same race as the president. The same race as police and their principals and the security following them through stores.
This isn’t easy to write. And I have a big ask. White teachers: please–do this internal work. It’s not comfortable, and it’s never ‘done.’ Fight for decolonizing curriculum. Fight for inclusion. Fight on behalf of your students and their families and never, ever expect a reward, thank you, or pat on the back. Do not fall into the savior trope. And yes: take it personally. Because if your student is screaming at you they have the fierceness and bravery of more lifetimes than you can ever imagine. This does not mean you need to dissolve your own dignity or self-respect. But please; do not give the ‘respect’ lessons first: self-respect and dignity matter more. Black lives matter.
And finally: we need to flip the table. I am angry that Jane Elliott’s work wasn’t in my teaching Masters coursework. That work on social justice isn’t the first things we work on as future and current educators. That we don’t confront the questions of if we’re teaching predominately white students or Black and students of color, how is it the same, and what matters?
Whereby I confront my fears and try to work through them.
Note: this is about white people’s fear, and measurement of fear: the existential fear of BIPOC is real, systemic, and daily. As white people work toward equality and abolitionist actions, we must look toward our privilege, beliefs, faith, and values. If we have privilege, and white people most certainly do, what ways can we confront our fears toward action?
What are you willing to die for? We all die. In fact, it’s our mortality that may be at the heart of our conflicts. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. What an incredible philosophy. Because the “willing to die” question could be the most personal, catalyst and human of questions? It comes with huge judgment and zealotry. It’s confrontational and ill-equipped for love. And for clarity: I’m talking about BIG LOVE, love from the universe, gods, goddess, and creation. Love that is patient and kind love. Asking someone what they are willing to die for asks too much, and I’m not sure it’s infused with BIG LOVE. Saints and sinners alike have their own thoughts about mortality, from sacrificial martyrdom to uninvited interruption of work and purpose.
“I don’t know what will happen now; we’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life–longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And so I’m happy tonight; I’m not worried about anything; I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,” King concluded.
I’m toggling between this platform and FB and notice a friend who’s at a #BLM protest in my little town. I am not there, and can’t risk bringing #COVID back to my family.
I had my own existential crisis and fear bargaining this past week. A dear friend and colleague posted a confrontation by one of her former acquaintances. This acquaintance turned out to be a racist, bully, and all-around garbage human. There have been plenty of groups who’ve been posting pictures of racists caught in the act, and the charge to “get ’em!” And I had to confront my own cowardice when one of those lives metaphorically next door. Most of the ones people post are those who lives miles and states away. Or, outing big corporations for their heinous acts. And since the internet has long given us a false sense of anonymity and safety, in these days of important and monumental shifts, will we begin to judge one another on how we use our physical (not metaphysical) lives to continue this change? I am confronting my own cowardice for not outing this woman. White nationalist scare me. I am in flight, fight, or freeze mode. And I had to work through my own power and privilege to determine how I can keep myself, my sons, and my husband safe.
In other words, if I am not okay with dying in a protest, what can I do that considers multiple factors that decenter my privilege or uses it for abolitionist causes? Zealotry of any kind makes me skittish. I did post the question on Facebook, and received many responses. One woman, the mother of one of my students, said to leave her be, pray for the racist, and go with grace. I’m still grappling with it, but that was where I left it. And in later conversations received a somewhat pedantic lecture on the Holocaust by another friend. And I think I would have been the person to hide people in my house kind of person. But I don’t know. I am here and existing now: so what am I doing now? Because anything I do walks the line between performative and silence. There will be criticism, no matter what. And so what? So how do I balance fear of physical, emotional, and spiritual safety when nothing is truly safe? We all die: so how do I make choices in my life?
What can I give: I have a gift for creating curriculum. I have a gift for friendship and love. I have a gift and talent for creativity and art. I attempt to write and communicate. When I have funds, I share them. I look for legitimate resources. I listen to new information and facts and adapt. And if there is a higher being, I recognize that these gifts are a blessing. And I will strive to keep my pride in check, and not be baited into conversations of ‘who’s more of a warrior.’ (And to be clear–it was my own pride that baited me, not anyone else.)
And I’m still learning from others, every day. Nearly every hour.
I am not an expert on abolition. I’m a student of abolitionism. But I can tell you this. As someone who has studied it pretty intensively for about 5 years now: a lot of these people who are using the word abolition right now, do not even know what it means.
— Abolition Is A Presence (@jaybeware) June 7, 2020
