Blinding Patriotism (or why I won’t stand up)

There’s seems to be something about professional football that gets people all riled up (something in the turf, maybe?) If you haven’t read about my first encounter with ignorance at an NFL game, read this first.  Or if you haven’t read my piece on the silent protests taking place at professional sports games, read this one, too.

Yet again, my significant other and I ran into some trouble when visiting Baltimore to watch the Steelers play their rival team. After a festive bout of tailgating, we arrived at our seats with a couple minutes till kickoff. The stadium was packed (with mostly Ravens fans) but we got settled pretty quickly by the time the national anthem started to play. In hypnotic fashion, (nearly) everyone in the stadium stood to hear the rendition belted out as we remained silently seated. To our right, a rather disgruntled woman leered in our direction. “Oh my god, are you kidding me?” was audible enough for us to hear, coupled with her look of absolute disgust at our silent act of protest.

Because I was fairly certain she wasn’t just mad about us supporting the opposing team, my partner and I talked to each other about her assumptions and reaction. She initiated a conversation with my partner: “My family is full of veterans who fought to protect this country.” Little did she know (at least at first) that we both are closely related to veterans who fought in combat for the U.S only to return to face either racial discrimination or neglect from the VA. But alas, she wasn’t here to listen. She was here to feel important.

As my partner continued to advocate on our behalf for our RIGHTS AS AMERICAN CITIZENS to express ourselves freely, our disgruntled patriot friend, with her husband’s hand blocking her face so he could watch the game, started to shout profanity at us. Visibly upset by our encounter, the woman left with her husband (whom I feel some sympathy for; he missed nearly the entire game). We didn’t see the woman for the rest of the game. It was too painful for her to sit next to disrespectful, unappreciative, “assholes” who clearly have no reverence for democracy.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? People who serve in the military understand that their brave and selfless actions serve a larger purpose of freedom. You don’t become a soldier because you want people to think the same way you do; you serve in spite of those differences. You serve in the name of freedom and a democratic society where citizens have the right to express themselves, well freely.

So, angry Ravens fan, I appreciate the people who serve in the military and I value their efforts to protect my rights as a citizen. Thus, as a way to show that appreciation for what they do, I will continue to express my opinion in a way that may make you uncomfortable. My sitting for this anthem (created during a time when I would have been considered less than human) is not an attack on veterans or soldiers. It’s an attack on the institutionalized racism ingrained in our “free” society that shoots down black bodies and fuels the school to prison pipeline. The racism you might not notice as a white American thanks to your disillusioned perspective courtesy of Fox News.

I’m sorry, not sorry, that your world view can’t allow you to see the injustices marginalized people face on a daily basis (especially in a city like Baltimore.) But your insults and anger won’t deter me from continuing to exercise my rights.

 

 

Colin Kaepernick and the hypocrisy of patriotism

When I first heard about Colin Kaepernick’s move to protest the national anthem, I didn’t think much of it. Strange, perhaps, but nothing particularly outrageous.

As an HBCU grad, I became accustomed to simply standing (with a skeptical look but hands at my side) for the traditional national anthem and then raising my right fist for the black national anthem (Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing.) The double consciousness (as penned by W.E.B Dubois) permeates Black American life and so I slowly realized that 2 national anthems for the US at sporting events wasn’t the norm.

When I saw the responses coming from every corner of the internet bashing the 49’s player’s decision to express himself, I felt confused. He started to lose support, NFL viewers tuned out, and sponsors pulled out.

Fellow players, though, joined in his protest. Players from across the NFL maintained the tradition of protesting injustice in the realm of sports. The NBA and WNBA have fined players for wearing “I Can’t Breathe” shirts and Knox College suspended (and then reinstated) player Ariyana Smith for silently protesting during the national anthem, sparking the recent wave of athletes protesting injustice.

RGB put in her 2 cents on Kaepernick’s actions, using words like “dumb” “disrespectful” and “arrogant” in her response to the player’s protest. While she noted that he is within his legal right to protest and she wouldn’t arrest anyone for protesting, her words strike an unsettling nerve.

As a woman of color, it’s difficult to appease my initial urge to jump to the supreme court justice’s defense. Ruth Bader Ginsburg has championed the rights of women in the U.S and inspired plenty of women to advocate for themselves. Her comments seem thoughtless and they lack empathy; isn’t she, too, someone who has faced oppression? 

It’s frustrating to hear someone belittle the valid expression of another. I’m curious as to why “patriotism” in America is restricted to things noted as historically symbolic. Why can’t we show patriotism by both standing OR kneeling for the anthem? Throwing tea overboard (dressed as indigenous peoples who had been massacred) to dispute taxes is a show of patriotism but silently kneeling in protest of black bodies in the street is a sign of disrespect? 

As a teenager growing up in the city that’s home to Focus on the Family and the Air Force Academy, I chose to sit every day in class when my peers and teachers recited the pledge of allegiance. I grew up in a post 9/11 world, where an irrational fear of “other” permeated sacred spaces, saying those hypnotically tuned words as a 2nd grader but never really understanding what they meant. When I made the “monumental” decision to sit instead of stand, watching my peers, I abated the criticism of a few of my (white) peers, but I wasn’t alienated from my community. Life went on and I grew up with a certain cautious reverence for the country in which I currently reside.

While I don’t openly protest injustice on a daily basis, I acknowledge its existence like the persistent throb of a migraine. Progress against oppression doesn’t come without criticism (from both within and outside of the movement), but I worry that divisive comments can detract from the larger goal.

So, on the 50th anniversary of the Black Panther Party, when a former leader mentioned that Kaepernick is “not the first, and he knows he’s not the first,” I think about the actions of less publicized Americans: a singer of the anthem (a white breast cancer survivor) who took a knee during her performance. “I love and honor my country as deeply as anyone yet it is my responsibility as an American to speak up against injustice as it affects my fellow Americans,” she said. Tysse continued:

“I cannot idly stand by as black people are unlawfully profiled, harassed and killed by our law enforcement over and over and without a drop of accountability. …

“Whether or not you can see if from your vantage point, there is a deep system of institutionalized racism in America, from everyday discrimination to disproportionate incarceration of people of color to people losing their lives at the hands of the police simply for being black. This is not who we claim to be as a nation. It is wrong and I won’t stand for it. #Solidarity.”

While Tysse certainly faced criticism for the protest, she hasn’t received nearly as much negative attention for her gesture as black athletes. The NBA respected her right to express her views.

I want the same respect for people of color to express their anger.

 

 

 

Letter to the aggressive sidewalk peddlers in uptown Manhattan

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.

A normalized culture of violence against women

 

During my first trip to Taipei, Taiwan, as I marveled at the clean and efficient metro system and wandered around the city, something felt different. I’m used to attracting attention as a traveler when I go abroad, usually because I’m taller than average and no one can pinpoint my exact “ethnicity.” Most people (especially Germans) seem to think that staring long enough will reveal the answer on my forehead. harassment

I anticipated this in Taiwan, but I didn’t have that same feeling of being “watched” on this trip. No one noticed me, at all, and I shared this observation with a friend of a friend who is from Taipei but has also traveled and lived outside of the country.

“I can walk around late at night here with no problems. I always feel safe, no matter what time it is.” Any time of night? In such a large city? Indeed, I learned. Taiwan is famous for its “night markets,” small sections of streets filled with food and clothing vendors open until late into the night. Both locals and visitors flock to the vendors to indulge in fried, skewered, and steamed Taiwanese specialties as they bargain over other goods along narrow alleyways.

My friend mentioned that sexual harassment in the U.S, including “catcalling,” is pretty notorious. Everyone knows it happens.

When I recounted how often I opt for taking a cab as opposed to taking the subway late at night, or how I, without fail, attract attention of men on the street when I leave my home, I got very angry.

Enter a caption

It seems unfair. Unfair that as a woman in a modernized country, I  worry about how I look, how I dress, what I say (or don’t say) because it could put me in danger. Unfair that boys are not (always) taught from a young age to treat women as humans but as prizes to be “gotten.” Instead, a girl is told to dress respectably and then grows up to second guess her outfit before stuffing mace into her clutch, “just in case.”

Why is sexual harassment and violence against women such a normalized instance of American culture?

We’ve come to accept the mindset so much that government agencies have now adopted it unconsciously. In a seemingly well-intentioned campaign to warn women about fetal alcohol syndrome, the CDC shamed women into thinking that their alcohol use has some unlikely, even implausible, risks.

Risks of drinking for any woman include “sexually transmitted diseases,” “injuries/violence,” and “unintended pregnancy.” Huh? I thought sex caused pregnancy and STDs, not binge drinking (which, of course, isn’t a healthy habit to develop anyway).

The idea that women, solely, are at fault for the violence that others commit was conveyed during the recent Zika virus scare. (Go here for a NY Times article by a Brazilian woman who articulates this point much better than I can.) Several South American countries have advised women, in an attempt to prevent birth defects, to avoid “getting pregnant.”

Something’s off about that advice: it neglects to mention a man’s role in causing pregnancy.  It isn’t as if women are spontaneously impregnating themselves; men are impregnating women. However, there hasn’t been a national call from Brazil for all men to remain abstinent for 2 years. That would be ludicrous, right?

If South American countries, many of which are predominantly Catholic, had health care systems that provided women with consistent and safe birth control options, this advice wouldn’t be so far fetched. However, birth control can be difficult to come by in many other countries and the stigma associated with these methods stems from the heavy religiously influenced background of South American countries.

Reversing this incredibly biased perspective on women starts with removing the stigma around women and sexual health. This begins with parents having open conversations with their children. It continues when men avoid shaming women for their bodies and sexual health. And it looks like women and men treating each other equally in society and governments doing the same.

(UPDATE: The CDC has taken down the infographic after criticism and Anne Schuchat, the principal deputy director of the CDC, defended the agency’s intentions, told The New York Times, “we weren’t as clear as we had hoped to be.”)

 

Microagressions and privilege: did that really just happen?

 

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

Misogyny and the Policing of Black Female Bodies

“When we think of police brutality, it’s normally men we envisage as the victims” Olivia Marks. This has been a huge concern of mine in regards to the black lives matter movement. Black men who suffer brutality at the hands of police are, more often than women, shoved into the spotlight of national media. We see these images and hear their names so often that it can be easy to forget about the women who are also victims.

And while some would argue that women suffer a different type of racism at the hands of police, insinuating that it’s not as brutal as what men face, gender often plays a small role when it comes to racism in the police force.

If you haven’t read the Guardian piece on Sandra Bland and Serena Williams yet, Olivia Marks does a much better job at describing each incident in detail.

Let’s start with the best athlete of all time, Serena Williams.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past few weeks, you know that she won the Wimbledon championship for a 6th time during her illustrious athletic career. Think about a time when you felt confident, powerful, and strong, characteristics I’m sure Williams feels as she dominates on the court.

Now, imagine someone coming along to belittle you in your moment of confidence. Maybe they comment on your performance, or give a particularly mean-spirited criticism. Or even worse, they criticize you for something you have no control over.

The amount of hateful criticism Serena faced after her most recent win is disgusting. The main gripe among these critics, who I can only imagine are adolescent white teenagers in denial about their physique, is that she is “built like a man.” Since when did having a visibly strong physique equate with looking masculine?

Oh yea, I forgot. Women who body build have to wear bikinis so we can delineate their gender.

This obsession with “body image” shone through in The New York Times most recent piece that focused on Williams. In the article, white, petite, young tennis players are asked about their bodies and how they look/play in comparison to Williams.

One notable quote from the highest paid female athlete, Maria Shirapova:

“I always want to be skinnier with less cellulite; I think that’s every girl’s wish,” she said, laughing.

I can’t get through that one without cringing. As Amelia McDonnel Perry mentions in her criticism of the article, the most frustrating part of the piece is how it focuses on Williams. If it had simply been an article on body image and sports/tennis, using a plethora of viewpoints of tennis players, the writer could have pulled it off well. But because the piece makes Serena’s body type the “other” in this homogeneous group of athletes, the obvious racial undertones creep to the surface. While this piece doesn’t go so far as to equate Williams with a “gorilla” like those on Twitter did, it hints at the idea that black women do not fit into the metaphorical box of predominantly white female sports.

If you’re still unclear on all the issues here, watch this video:

How does this relate to Sandra Bland?

Once we as a society have a group which we can call “other,” these attitudes become dangerous. Those who equate Serena’s physical strength with masculinity no longer see her as a woman. Instead, they see her as an animal with brute strength and who, potentially, could be dangerous. When this erroneous stereotype is applied to all women who look similar to Serena Williams, it’s problematic. Those in power who hold this perspective are the most troubling.

The police involved in Sandra Bland’s tragic death claimed that she was combative on the side of the road when they pulled her over for improper signalling. If the police were exposed to the derogatory comments about Williams earlier that week, those racist and sexist undertones were present in their consciousness. Even if they didn’t agree with the criticism, they viewed Sandra Bland in a different light then they might have before. If she was combative, they saw her as a threat. One police officer very clearly slams Bland’s head against the concrete, in an attempt to subdue her. Why would he need to use such brute force in this situation?

The police officers didn’t see Bland as a person; they saw her as a part of the other who didn’t belong. This dangerous concept ultimately led to Bland’s sudden and unexplained death. The claim that she committed suicide is an obvious ploy of the police department hoping to avoid any serious investigations.

For many reasons, police brutality against women of color is swept under the rug quickly after it occurs. The archetype of the “angry black woman” often goes as justification for police officers to handle women with undue force. Layered with the inappropriate discussion of black women in the media (conversations which usually focus on their hair, dress, physical physique, and behavior), misogyny is as detrimental as ever to black women’s well being. It’s critical to be aware of what’s happening and to stay vocal.

“If you are a Black person, you can be one police encounter away from death. Any age. Any gender. Any class background.” -Jamilah Lemieux 

3 things holding us back from gender equality.

“A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle” -Gloria Steinem 

Gender Roles 

Women are people. Seems obvious, right? Sure, each society has its different ideas about femininity and masculinity; in some places women are expected not to wear pants while sex “sells” in the United States.  But the way we are trained to view gender (yes, we are brainwashed to believe gender is a social construct) says so much about our treatment of women and men. Many people struggle with the concepts of asexuality and fluid sexuality. Deconstructing these ideas in this post would take way too long. But possibly the most detrimental and destructive perspectives are those that don’t allow for men and women to be complex beings. 

Men play sports                                   Women wear makeup

Men work regular jobs                         Women are caretakers

Men don’t cry                                       Women are irrational 

Men propose to women                       Women should marry 

Men own                                              Women are objects

I’ve had countless encounters with people around the world during my solo travels where they expected me to be “owned” by a man in one way or another.

“You’re traveling alone? Where’s your boyfriend? Aren’t you afraid to travel by yourself?”

The easy way to avoid these conversations is to laugh it off and agree that yes, I am still young and sure I still have time.

The difficult thing to do would be to say “No! I’m actually not interesting in conceiving children at this time or in the future. I am interested, however, in earning my PhD and improving the lives of children, who already exist, in a meaningful way. (She’s cold, they would say. She’ll come around and change her mind soon.)

The difficult thing to do would be to hold the conversation about gender roles with those with which we are closest: parents, siblings, good friends, and older relatives.

The difficult (and perhaps dangerous) thing would be to stop on the street when men choose to catcall us and ask them why they chose to use monikers like “baby” and “gorgeous” to refer to us. And no, it isn’t simply a compliment.

Oh wait, some of us are trying that already. Like agreeing with compliments from men; turns out that only gets us labeled as vain and “full of ourselves.” *sigh*

Dissension among the ranks

If I could shake every one of the young girls at my school and tell them to stop tearing each other down, I would never have time to teach. It’s enough that they encounter boys who take out their hormonal uncertainties on the self confidence and will of their female counterparts. It pains me to see 11, 12, and 13 year old girls bully and harass each other with their hurtful words. With the additional factor of technological communication in this generation, it’s hard to believe girls today have any self confidence at all.

And it’s not just an issue among children; women of all ages are QUICK to tear another woman down if she poses a “threat” in some way. Whether it’s those social constructs that have been pounded into our heads since birth to view other successful women as competitors, this mindset is toxic to the survival and success of the female community.

Some feminists are also hesitant, for some reason or another, to include the LGBTQIA community into their call for equal rights. How can we tear down other women who are fighting for the rights of all of us? Does our sexual orientation really matter in the fight to be considered as people? Really…?

Unfortunately colorism is another issue under the dissension umbrella that we face. The history of the feminist movement in the US has largely ignored and excluded a HUGE population of women that were struggling for a vast majority of their rights. Unfortunately, the fight for equality among women of color is two fold: you’re both not white and not male. It doesn’t surprise me that women of color don’t consider themselves feminists because of the movement’s sordid history at the turn of the 20th century. Womanism was born out of this division, but unfortunately some women of color continue to feel disheartened by the idea of seemingly having to put their gender before their race.

The stigma of feminism

Even Beyonce couldn’t make this popular. Unfortunately, the stigma regarding feminism is bra-burning-man-hating-P.M.Sing-rage-filled-lesbians who can’t help but to disseminate their pamphlets about why men are evil.

No, in fact we’re quite friendly. Or not. We’re doctors and teachers and lawyers and pilots. Or not. Sometimes we’re stay at home moms and mechanics and librarians and astrophysicists. We cry in public. Or not. We like sappy romantic movies. Or not.

Feminists come in all shapes and sizes. Some of my best male friends consider themselves to be feminists because they believe in the social, economic, and political equality of people.

So what’s the secret to hurtling our society towards complete gender equality? There might not be 1 answer, but there are baby steps we can take. 

Have open conversations with people who truly don’t know any better.

Take a deep breath before you pass judgement on someone who thinks all feminists are lesbians.

Unless they’re Pat Robertson. In this case, run.

And seek out resources, because you’re not in this alone! It can be difficult to talk with people about a subject you might not be well versed in. It’s even more frustrating when people THINK they are experts when they primarily speak from illogical and broad claims. Despite the scary world of internet conversations out there, safe spaces for women exist (BTW, you should go back and click on those links 🙂 they’re pretty awesome) that allow for open conversations.

Build each other up

Encourage the women in your life to be happy. Even if you don’t agree with all of their life choices, guess what? It’s not your life! You have your own to live and we all deserve people in our space who lift us up instead of passing judgement. Seriously, society oppresses us enough.

“There is no such thing as a single issue struggle because we do not live single issue lives.” -Audrey Lorde 

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

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.

Living in a food desert: “Why don’t they just buy healthy food?”

I live in a food desert

 

http://americannutritionassociation.org/newsletter/usda-defines-food-deserts

I can’t reach a grocery store within walking distance in Brownsville and I have to commute further into Brooklyn to reach a store with fresh fruits and vegetables. The nearest restaurants consist of questionable Chinese food and fried chicken. For someone with a regular income and access to public transportation, this is only a minor inconvenience. For many of the residents of Brownsville, including the students whom I teach, it’s almost an inescapable life sentence.

From people who are very unfamiliar with food inequality, I’ve heard things such as, why don’t they just eat healthy food? There are many things wrong with this assumption, primarily being:

1. It completely ignores the fact that poverty is a cycle that takes generations to break.

2. Money, time, and access are all factors that contribute to food inequality.

3. Certain habits can be tough to break, even when money and access to food is no longer a factor.

Where’s all the food??

Part of the disparity between wealthy and impoverished neighborhoods is the lack of access to fresh fruits and vegetables. On every corner of Brownsville, you’ll find a deli/cornerstore. These stores have tons of cheap junk food that require no preparation. They’re affordable, easy, and quick. I have to walk about 30 minutes to reach the nearest local grocery store in the neighborhood (it is not directly accessible by bus or train from my apartment). Sure, I can take the train to Target or Trader Joe’s in Downtown Brooklyn. But what about my neighbors who live on fixed incomes and may not be able to afford  the food items at these locations? Or even afford the frequent subway fare?

When would there be time to cook all this fresh food??

Another factor is time. If I were working a minimum wage job for long hours everyday (and had to commute to and from this job), it might be difficult to prepare a fresh meal every night for my family. Picking up fast food at the nearest restaurant for my family would be much more manageable. It’s not the healthiest choice, but to some families it seems like the only choice, also because of….

Money!

Believe it or not, it can be quite expensive to feed a large family healthy meals each day. Families on fixed or low incomes often scrape by each month, so the quickest and cheapest option is often their first choice. Delis and cornerstores usually only carry fresh items like milk and juice, most likely because it’s expensive to keep fresh produce in stock on a regular basis. 

These issues go overlooked when discussing income equality in the U.S. Sometimes it’s difficult for people who were raised in upper class backgrounds to understand why being poor is actually very expensive.

 

Eating unhealthy food is usually not a choice when faced with so many socioeconomic challenges. Lack of access, lack of time, and higher cost are all factors that make this “choice” nearly impossible to alter.