Letter to the aggressive sidewalk peddlers in uptown Manhattan

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Have you ever been in a situation where someone said something offensive to you, but you couldn’t think of a great response until at least 2 hours later? Well, this is my response to a couple of “sidewalk peddlers” who have been increasingly aggressive in their tone towards me recently.

“So you don’t care about police brutality?”

The words seep in through my ears and twist around my brain.

My stomach grows heavy as concrete as I turn slowly.

My eyes land on the speaker and I restrain the urge to scream.

She stood there, natural hair in an afro, glasses atop her nose, as if expecting me to smile wide and join her in her fruitless attempt to garner support midday on a progressive Ivy campus. I resisted the urge to cock my head sideways and insult her effort.

I usually ignore the comments (“seasoned” Brooklynite that I am, brushing off the catcalls en route to the subway). But this was different. The situation, my emotional fatigue, her tone. I couldn’t gather the words fast enough, but soon came face to face with her.

If only she knew, I thought! That a black body lying prone, hands up, could have very well been my brother. My father. My student. The person I love simply because the police are threatened by the color of his skin as it glistens in the sun when he reaches for his driver’s license at the traffic stop.

If only she knew that I’ve organized with others at Howard when Trayvon was shot, when all of this came into focus. That I sought the comfort of my mother when Zimmerman was acquitted, and that I’ve been numb ever since. That the killing of black women isn’t the priority right now in this country and that I’ve been dismissed in conversations when I try to assert my right as a woman of color because of the fairness of my skin.

Excuse me for not wanting to donate my money, my mental energy, my exhausted emotional state to your organization. Excuse me for not being ready to address the trauma I face when I hear about yet another civil rights violation. Excuse me for not allowing your anger about standing on the sidewalk in 95 degree weather affect my resolve. Excuse me for not letting your guilt-inducing tactics sway me into wavering on my stance.

So I’m not ready to sit down with you near the end of my lunch break (after I’ve spent all morning creating ways to engage my black and brown students in discourse about their lives and before I scroll through my feed for the umpteenth time, trying the scores of images of black bodies in the street).

Because even though I’m not ready to take the action that might suffice in your eyes, I am in front of my black and brown students day in and out, collecting the strength to look them in the eyes and say that they are worth it. That they matter.

I want them to understand who they are and why their presence in their communities is important. I want them to feel valued and know that their voices can be loud enough to enact change. I want them to see things from another perspective, so hopefully they can understand that we are all more similar than different.

Microagressions and privilege: did that really just happen?

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I love to travel. Discovering new places both domestically and abroad has opened my eyes to different aspects of the human experience I would have otherwise missed had I never left my comfort zone. Besides the superficial benefits of getting to see famous landmarks and enjoy great food, meeting new people and gleaning their perspectives on life make for an enriching experience.

As a female traveler, there have often been instances where I had to take extra precautions or alter my travel plans in order to safely enjoy my adventures. In the U.S, this happens much less often than abroad, but traveling domestically always brings about the unwanted attention of those who can’t conceive why women would consider traveling alone.

On a recent trip to Pittsburgh, I experienced a typical sexist remark from a (drunk) football fan who probably thought paying me a “compliment” would boost my self esteem. (Note that this remark came during the brief 5 minutes out of the weekend where I was alone- we’ll save that for another post). Surprisingly, this instance of misogyny wasn’t the most disturbing expression of white male privilege that I witnessed while in the Steel City.

When I travel in the U.S or abroad, people are usually perplexed and intrigued by the color of my skin. In most cases, I’m privileged enough to escape any overt discrimination and, outside of the occasional catcalls from men, I get to really enjoy the cities that I visit because I avoid most overt negative attention. During this trip, though, there were a number of subtle racial microagressions that my travel companion and I experienced that seemed to compound as the trip wore on.

Seemingly insignificant slights at JFK during the check-in and security process hadn’t deterred my vacation mood. I did notice, however, the constant glares in downtown Pittsburgh, a city not necessarily known for welcoming diversity. Even though I was overjoyed at the constant stream of black and gold at every corner, the tension of feeling like “outsiders” when walking around the city crept into consciousness often enough.

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At Heinz field, as the Steelers game neared the end of the first half, my partner ventured out of our row, as several other people had already done during the game. On his way out, he heard the person sitting in the aisle seat mumble “you should go around next time.” Not thinking much of it, he returned to the row and the man remained seated. “Pardon me, sir I need to get to my seat.” The man remained seated and asked him, again, to walk around (we were sitting much closer to one side than the other). After a back and forth exchange that ended with the older white man begrudgingly stepping to the side, the element of this exchange that stuck out was the look of unwarranted”fear and anger” from the man.

He wore no Steelers gear, just a camouflaged jacket that’s often used by serious game hunters. He couldn’t have been younger that 75, and since so many other (white) fans had already left and come back to their seats, his reaction at this particular moment seemed bizarre.

If you’ve ever been to a football game, you understand that part of the experience is being squeezed into a plastic seat among thousands of other fans, thus having to let others in and out of your row whenever they want. Sure, this can be slightly annoying, but you get over it after a while if you have the slightest bit of empathy.

I find something very fascinating about this man’s reaction to having to stand up and let someone through the row. As a Steelers fan, this man supports a team that is comprised of 80% African-American players and is 1 of 5 NFL teams that boast a black head coach. Our camouflaged “friend” supports black players each and every week, yet his experiences with people of color  on a personal level suggest that he believes in deep seated racist ideologies.

The Problem with Calling it Out

 Microaggressions are naturally very difficult to explain or rationalize. Anyone who is unaware of cycles of oppression or discrimination would find it difficult to understand the humiliation of racial slights.

Let’s say that in a parallel universe, we had called out this man for his overtly racist comments and actions. Let’s say we, rationally, had confronted him in a calm manner and mentioned that he is now in 2015 and legal segregation is, in fact, over and done. The myths he was probably fed about black people were indeed false and miscegenation is no longer a crime. An ideal situation would dictate that he and his friends would have offered a prompt and sincere apology.

Anyone who has experienced a microaggression or any racial discrimination understands that this is out of the question for many reasons. This kind of peaceful outcome would require:

  • the white person to acknowledge his racist perspective

No one in the 21st century wants to be outwardly labelled as a racist. Even people who interact very rarely with people of color, and have little insight into what the experience is like, would balk at the idea of associating themselves with members of the KKK. Americans typically summon an image of white hoods on horseback when you mention the word “racism” because there haven’t been many opportunities to discuss race and racism openly on a national level before. If anything, Barack Obama’s election made it easier for white Americans to remove the notion of racism from their consciousness. If you had voted for him, there’s no way you could be considered racist. Even if you didn’t vote for him, it’s because you disagreed with his policies. Even if you doubted his American citizenship, it was because his dad was Kenyan.

  • Americans to acknowledge that racism still exists.

America seems like a colorblind society to anyone chooses to ignore the institutional and structural discriminatory practices of the U.S government. The U.S is a free country “for all” if you’re under the impression that all people acquired the right to vote in 1870. Politicians who are now in power are the sons (and daughters) of former politicians/citizens who supported segregation. They are the children who grew up with black nannies and images of black “comedians” and entertainers who showcased plastered smiles on their faces. Many of these politicians haven’t adapted to an America where black men and women hold equal power. This adaptation requires a huge ideological change before true equality can even be considered a possibility in the U.S.

  • a shift in the power structure between people of color and whites

Very similarly, this can only happen when the overused tropes of people of color in the media are no longer the only archetypes that represent black and brown men and women. Outdated archetypes, like the black athlete or the aggressive black woman make it acceptable, in the minds of whites, to carry those stereotypes over to reality. Unless this unbalanced structure is broken down, and the stereotypes are seen as just that, encounters on a personal level like the one at the stadium will continue to occur everyday for people of color.

 

(un)safe Spaces in Black Academia

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In case you missed it in these past few weeks, attending a university is yet another thing people of color cannot do in the U.S. Between Mizzou and Harvard, the message of exclusion for people of color in higher academia has been made loud and clear.

University of Missouri President Resigns As Protests Grow over Racism

COLUMBIA, MO – NOVEMBER 9: Jonathan Butler (c), a University of Missouri grad student who did a 7 day hunger strike listens during a forum speaking to students on the campus of University of Missouri – Columbia on November 9, 2015 in Columbia, Missouri. Students celebrate the resignation of University of Missouri System President Tim Wolfe amid allegations of racism. (Photo by Michael B. Thomas/Getty Images)

In response to widespread racism and discrimination against black students on Mizzou’s campus, several students rallied together to demand focus on the reality of living as black students on predominately white institutions (PWIs). As several voices have pointed out, protests like these are nothing new; students of color (and their allies) across the country have demanded attention to bring change and awareness to their campus communities.

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In this particular case though, the backlash from the protests at Mizzou have highlighted why black voices remain silenced in largely white spaces. Conservative pundits, color blind well-meaning white people, and even outwardly racist folks alike were quick to shame protesters for voicing their concerns, accusing protesters of ignoring other issues around the world.

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Meanwhile, the blatant acts of racism on Harvard’s campus demonstrate the reality that blacks are especially excluded from ivy league institutions which have been built upon the notorious legacies that founded this country. The irrational fear, grounded solely in illusions of white privilege, has emboldened white students, born of this legacy of hatred, to commit hateful (yet cowardly) acts on college campuses.

The seemingly inherent fear of blacks somehow diluting the pure prestige of ivy league schools has trained many white college students to believe that racism and discrimination are normal aspects of college culture. An NPR story on the future of Mizzou after the protests featured an interview with a white student.

“I honestly want these protests to try and die down,” he says. “I want the message to continue, but I think it’s attracting a lot of unnecessary national attention from just everywhere. And it’s giving Mizzou a bad image in my opinion … I don’t think we deserve what’s going on right now. I just kind of want things to go back to normal, how they were. Nice and quiet.”

Many of the phrases used here are elements of coded language that get thrown around in an effort to lessen the sting of racism (and make white people more comfortable with expressing their ideas publicly.) The idea of a “normal” highlights the lack of awareness of students who don’t understand what it’s like to feel unsafe in most spaces. The privilege of power extends to these students when they can walk freely to class instead of avoiding potentially fatal threats on campus.

While the issues surrounding these recent incidents remain, it’s clear that the next generation of leaders refuse to allow racism to subtly coat the surface of academic spaces. The black lives matter movement has continued to gain momentum, despite it’s inner struggle in grappling with intersectionality. In order to see true change in public spaces, the uncomfortable conversations about race must continue.

Otherwise, things might just go back to how they were. Nice and quiet.

TFA’s Skewed View of Educational Inequity and how it’s Hurting our Kids

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Public education is arguably the most important free social service in the United States. K-12 education is vital, obviously, to having an informed, literate society of citizens who can shape the world around them.  

There isn’t one particular model of a public school system that works for every student in every state. Large public school systems in urban cities have different needs and functions than smaller, rural schools.

The need for effective teachers is a commonality among every school in the U.S. Without teachers, schools would not run. Without effective teachers, schools would run themselves into the ground.

What does an effective teacher look like?

According to the No Child Left Behind Act (I know, not the most salient piece of legislation during the Bush era), a highly qualified teacher “must be fully certified by the state or have passed the state teacher licensure exam and have a license to teach in the state In addition, highly qualified teachers must demonstrate their knowledge of the subject they teach through certain credentials or test scores.” The nuance between highly qualified and effective shows itself mostly in the classroom. A highly qualified teacher knows the content very well and can relay it to students in practical, efficient ways. An effective teacher can engage students in the content, helping them make connections between disciplines and making the information “sticky.”

Becoming an effective teacher is hard work. It takes many, many years in the classroom and constant rounds of feedback and evaluations. Because there are so many different variables in the classroom that affect a teacher’s effectiveness, it can sometimes feel like swimming in the Atlantic without a life preserver.

And where are these “highly qualified” teachers coming from?

Colleges and universities provide traditional routes to prepare future educators. As an education major or minor, you complete your content and pedagogy courses that lead to teacher certification in the state where you teach. Some school districts hire teachers who have recently graduated while others require some experience in the classroom.

Sounds like a simple enough solution. Train teachers, they go forth and teach.

BUT the problem arises when schools in low income neighborhoods do not have effective OR highly qualified teachers. Teachers are not compensated as well in schools that lack access to funding so they turn to other neighborhoods that will ensure their careers are sustainable. This leads to high teacher turnover rate, with many different teachers coming and going each year.

This leaves the country’s neediest schools with less-than-effective teachers guiding our children. We could raise the funding of teachers, but that money comes from somewhere else in the budget (usually sports and arts programs).

This critical intersection of high needs schools and high demand for teachers catalyzed the movement of alternative teacher training programs.

Most notably of all, Teach for America.

We needed more teachers in the neediest schools. The solution was to incentivize the teaching profession and make it attractive to recent graduates. Targeting young, energetic and hopeful Americans eliminates the need to establish a sustainability plan. Younger teachers are less likely to complain about a 12 hour work day if they think it contributes to the overall mission of closing the achievement gap.

Teach for America seeks to “eliminate educational inequity” by providing America’s schools with teachers (and future leaders). After a 5 week training institute during the summer after your college graduation, you’re ready to step into the classroom as a full-time teacher. Without having taken many of the teaching certification exams, you are enrolled in a master’s of teaching program in conjunction with working in a high-needs school (in a location you may not be very familiar with).

What does it take to be a TFA’er?

A bachelor’s degree with at least a 2.5 GPA.

U.S citizen or permanent resident status.

That’s it.

No, you needn’t have studied education in college. You don’t need to have taken any prior background checks, teacher exams, or physical exams.

A more informal assessor of your “worthiness” is to have taken on leadership roles, of any kind, either in high school or college. An RA in a college dormitory is an example.

Before I continue, let’s note that some teachers who are a part of the program did study education as part of their undergraduate program. These teachers use Teach for America as a launching pad into their long-term careers. Others who apply to the program become passionate about school reform and become phenomenal long-term school teachers and leaders.

Now, “NCLB also requires states to take steps to ensure that low-income and minority students are not taught by teachers who are not highly qualified at higher rates than are non-minority and low-income students.” This is relatively problematic for TFA because all of it’s recruits start off as “not highly qualified.” The question over whether low-income students are taught by these teachers at a higher rate than their non-low income counterparts is up in the air.

The controversy over TFA, charter schools, and school reforms is plenty. Just check out the #resisttfa tweets of folks who are encouraging college graduates to reconsider recruiting with the organization. Other more abrupt criticisms include those who say TFA acts as a colonization method. “By default, Corps Members rationalize their place in the classroom with a savior complex. They act as some sort of missionary from the privileged class, here to save the poor kids…well, save the poor kids for two years before going on to a more prestigious career.” (Taken from “The Catalyst” an independent student newspaper at Colorado College.)

Elitist white savior organizations like TFA address the wrong side of the problem. The solution to poor school systems, according to TFA, is to send hordes of privileged recent graduates into low performing schools and “enlighten” the children who don’t know any better. The victims of the corrupt system are being addressed instead of the perpetrators. Have we stopped to ask WHY these schools are in decline? Have we asked WHY these children are living in poverty? Can we find out why less than equal education is inextricably linked to poverty? Perhaps that’s too much of a socialist ideal.

Apparently TFA is having some trouble recruiting recent college grads, most because of the recovering economy in conjunction with the growing criticism of the training methods. Ironically enough, TFA has difficulty in confronting the criticism it receives, spending millions of dollars on PR campaigns that promote the benefits to recruits.

In any case, we need teachers. That’s an indisputable fact. But if our best answer to the lack of effective teachers is to recruit those with absolutely no experience into our neediest classrooms, we’ve failed our kids.