Last Thursday, I had the privilege of participating in an anti-racism training seminar led by Goshen College professor Regina Shands Stoltzfus. Over the course of our brief four hours together, we touched on a variety of topics all related to a central theme: how do we encounter and interact with race, and how has race become institutionalized?
As Shands Stoltzfus posed questions to the class for round-table discussion, it became evident that our table was fortunate to have a fairly representative sampling of the diversity present in Goshen. Though we still had a white, middle class majority, there was also a Mexican-American and a student who had siblings adopted from Puerto Rico. The conversation focused mainly on our personal experience growing up: where had we encountered race? How did our family address the topic of race? What were some of the stigmas surrounding race? Though coming from many different backgrounds we realized there was one thread that held true for all of us: it took an experience encountering the “other”—members of another race—before we began to truly think about the position each of us held in American race relations. Even after that initial encounter, we still had to make a personal choice to engage in analyzing race, desiring to break apart the stigma of race in each of our own lives.
After analyzing the presence of racism in our own lives, we shifted our focus to analyzing the presence of racism in American institutions: how does the American government—blatantly or inherently—support racism? How does American law and policy support racial barriers? We watched a fascinating video which described governmental policies post-WWII, policies which are responsible for much of the racial segregation still seen today. Though it would seem as if an understanding of public policy and its effect on racial relations is something important enough to be taught in schools, it was a revelation to me. To summarize, banks could limit the amount of lending they did based on the racial makeup of a neighborhood. If a neighborhood was predominantly black, it was “redlined,” being deemed a no-loan zone. Causing racial segregation between the cities and the suburbs, this contributed immensely to the wealth gap, as much of a family’s wealth is tied up in their property. Acknowledging that this is still a problem today, our discussion groups addressed possible ways to approach the issue from the perspective of social justice, ways in which we—as privileged individuals within the system—could contribute to healing the system.
To end our time together, we watched a TED Talks video from Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Adichie, titled The Danger of a Single Story. Using literature as a metaphor, Adichie discussed how dangerous a stereotype can be, allowing one experience or one story to stand in for an entire group of people. Ending our time together on a positive note, this video was an affirmation of the work we had done today: recognizing that it was an important step forward, to acknowledge the presence of racism. However, that is not to say that there is not more work to do! On the contrary, I felt that this training helped me see places that I could step in and make a difference.
As I reflect upon the training seminar, connecting it to my previous experiences in life, I realized that I felt both affirmed and challenged. Having lived and studied outside of the United States a number of times, I have had the privilege of encountering cultures different from my own. These cultures were ones in which I was a racial (albeit privileged) minority. Experiencing life under those circumstances caused me to rethink my own interactions with minorities at home, here in the United States. So while articulating and sharing my personal history with race is not a new experience, I felt affirmed in my previous attempts to do so, that they were a worthwhile endeavor.
On the other hand, I was challenged in my learning, and gained a much greater understanding of the situation here in the United States. From incredible insights learned from the stories of my peers, to a greater understanding of the role in which our government has played in supporting and continuing racism, I felt like my focus shifted from an ethereal “there’s a problem” to a concrete “these are the problems.” The latter is much more useful when it comes to enacting social change.
Leaving the training I felt empowered. Yes, I may be a part of a broken system. In fact, the broken system is broken in my favor, so that I receive many benefits from it that persons of other races or genders do not. But part of my responsibility, as a person of privilege, is to use the power I do have to break down the barriers that gave me this power (without my earning it). Though it may be a difficult thing to do—to let go of something so beneficial to me—I owe it to those who have not had the same opportunities to try and solve the institutions. Even if it takes me years to get anywhere.
So, what does this have to do with my teaching?
We live in a diverse world that is only growing in diversity. I recently read in The Root, a blog about race, that—according to the most recent census data—this year was the first year in which a minority of babies under the age of two are white. Of course, 10 years from now this means that American schools will be even more diverse than they are today. As I think critically about the role we as teachers play in the education of our students, the importance of differentiation becomes all the more evident. There are many facets of inequality in our school systems. One example would be the disproportionate number of African-Americans and other racial minorities present in special education. Unfortunately, this is a complicated situation with no simple answer: are teacher expectations lower for these students? Are their home lives more detrimental to their growth and development? Is the school system simply not set up to work in their favor?
The web only becomes increasingly tangled as more factors are introduced. As teachers, how are we to address lingering problems in societal structures other than education? As if cooperating with administrators and legislators to improve school policy doesn’t seem like a large enough task, how is a teacher supposed to reconcile the remnants of racist housing policies that still affect the ability of many black individuals to earn enough money to comfortably support their families?
I can’t claim to know even half of the factors that contribute to the continuing racism in our society. But as opinions flare after the reelection of President Obama this past Tuesday, it is clear that racism is still a huge issue. But I believe that it is a teacher’s job to never stop learning. As the students learn, so does the teacher; this can include identifying more ways in which our current system is stacked against racial minorities. To combat these injustices, teachers need only to enact effective teaching practices—preparing all students for college and the professional world beyond—and critical, place-based education to prepare their students to be contributors to the creation of a more just society.
One could easily become discouraged by all of the complications and barriers involved in understanding racism today. But I believe that to become discouraged and give up is to take the easy way out. To say “this is a difficult situation, and it seems like there’s nothing I can do about it” is to say, it is not important enough to try. An effective teacher will look at these barriers and work, step by step, to figure out how to counteract an unjust system. Borrowing a concept from Adichie, I believe that as long as we deny defining a people through a single story—so long as we recognize the diversity of individuals and their experiences—there is hope for the future. As an educator, hope is integral to stoking the fire that burns within each of us, the fire that feeds our students the passionate learning they need to become successful contributors to the world.
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