Race is a topic without a handbook.
White supremacists marched through the streets of Charlottesville, a white man plowed through a crowd of protestors and killed a young woman, the leader of the free world appeared to defend the hate groups responsible, and a world searched for language to articulate its sorrow and find a sense of direction. And our diverse array of media jumped on the story. In 2017, photos, videos, and blog posts abound. Some of them - like the picture below - bring headlines into visceral focus.
However, with the proliferation of blogs comes the attraction for clickbait headlines. One post from this week's selection portends to preach Xian Franzinger Barrett's "7 Ways Teachers Can Respond to the Evil of Charlottesville, Starting Now." Another writer named Hillary Beard lays out, "The Dos and Don'ts of Talking to Kids of Color of White Supremacy." Readers searching for clarity on that most vexing of American topics, that thing about which we struggle most to communicate, are pulled into these seductive titles. At last, we think to ourselves, somebody's going to lay out in simple terms what I need to do!
If only it were so simple. These articles are somewhat useful: they provide suggestions to prompt deeper reflection about conversations around race, reminiscent of what other authors this term have suggested. Where Delpit argues, "We must learn to be vulnerable enough to allow our world to turn upside down" (p 47), Beard encourages us to "reflect on your experiences with bias and bigotry." Where Johnson explains that we "collude in silence" around race (p 8), Barrett encourages us to "prioritize voices of color in every classroom."
But these two articles, despite headlines that suggest immediate remedies, offer very little in the way of concrete strategies. For example, "Do role-play to help them practice what to say during stressful encounters," writes Beard. But I've never taught a role-play before! That could go wrong in so many ways. How do I set appropriate norms for the role-play? How do I anticipate whether something will come up that could trigger a traumatic memory for one of my students? What is the value of a role-play; does every student need to do one to learn, or is observing enough? The list of unanswered questions goes on and on. Indeed, any reader who stands to benefit from such relatively simple advice as, "Create classrooms that students feel safe to share in" (Barrett), is probably not prepared to implement any of the loosely defined suggestions that these articles propose without some serious coaching and support. We run the risk of causing much more harm than good if we run in, desperate to address these topics in some way with our kids, and not having the tools to do so with sensitivity.
At the end of the day, this is the nature of race. It's not easy to talk about, and there are no good handbooks to be easily read and deployed. I write this post not to complain that Beard and Barrett did a poor job of creating a handbook; I write to acknowledge the impossible task that would have been. Anti-racist education doesn't happen in isolated lessons. It can only happen through a lifelong commitment to reflecting on our practice, uprooting the racist ideas we have internalized, and finding ever better ways of shedding them.
White supremacists marched through the streets of Charlottesville, a white man plowed through a crowd of protestors and killed a young woman, the leader of the free world appeared to defend the hate groups responsible, and a world searched for language to articulate its sorrow and find a sense of direction. And our diverse array of media jumped on the story. In 2017, photos, videos, and blog posts abound. Some of them - like the picture below - bring headlines into visceral focus.
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| The photo we'll never forget |
If only it were so simple. These articles are somewhat useful: they provide suggestions to prompt deeper reflection about conversations around race, reminiscent of what other authors this term have suggested. Where Delpit argues, "We must learn to be vulnerable enough to allow our world to turn upside down" (p 47), Beard encourages us to "reflect on your experiences with bias and bigotry." Where Johnson explains that we "collude in silence" around race (p 8), Barrett encourages us to "prioritize voices of color in every classroom."
But these two articles, despite headlines that suggest immediate remedies, offer very little in the way of concrete strategies. For example, "Do role-play to help them practice what to say during stressful encounters," writes Beard. But I've never taught a role-play before! That could go wrong in so many ways. How do I set appropriate norms for the role-play? How do I anticipate whether something will come up that could trigger a traumatic memory for one of my students? What is the value of a role-play; does every student need to do one to learn, or is observing enough? The list of unanswered questions goes on and on. Indeed, any reader who stands to benefit from such relatively simple advice as, "Create classrooms that students feel safe to share in" (Barrett), is probably not prepared to implement any of the loosely defined suggestions that these articles propose without some serious coaching and support. We run the risk of causing much more harm than good if we run in, desperate to address these topics in some way with our kids, and not having the tools to do so with sensitivity.
At the end of the day, this is the nature of race. It's not easy to talk about, and there are no good handbooks to be easily read and deployed. I write this post not to complain that Beard and Barrett did a poor job of creating a handbook; I write to acknowledge the impossible task that would have been. Anti-racist education doesn't happen in isolated lessons. It can only happen through a lifelong commitment to reflecting on our practice, uprooting the racist ideas we have internalized, and finding ever better ways of shedding them.
Seth, THANK YOU! I felt the same way. I keep thinking about how can I help? how could I talk to my kids when I only have white kids in my team? How can I talk about helping others and creating opportunities to others without mentioning their privileges and the unfair world? I actually tried to do that this weekend and did not go well AT ALL.
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