I feel like I have absolutely nothing intelligent to say that hasn't already been said about Ferguson and Eric Garner. I also feel like I have to say something.
I am a white woman. I teach, among other things, literature that deals explicitly with questions of gender and race. I have been on search committees that prioritized, as they should, hiring people of color. I have advocated for them. I have also been accused of racism by a black colleague. (That shook me to the core.) I have dated a black man. I am raising a white boy. I think I know the particular ways in which I have privilege, and the ways in which I do not, in this culture. I might be wrong. Sometimes I think I don't know anything anymore. Sometimes I feel like we're living in a Margaret Atwood novel.
I feel like many Americans absolutely helpless in the face of such astonishing injustice and racism. I also feel like if I am going to do anything that comes from who I am it needs to be with my students and my children.
I had already decided to teach Claudia Rankine's Citizen next semester but now it seems more critical than ever. (A recent PBS piece on Rankine.)
I am so sad. And mostly I want my son to know what it means to be a white man some day and to use the privilege he has for generosity and good. And I also don't want him hated or feared because of the color of his skin.
I am a white woman. I teach, among other things, literature that deals explicitly with questions of gender and race. I have been on search committees that prioritized, as they should, hiring people of color. I have advocated for them. I have also been accused of racism by a black colleague. (That shook me to the core.) I have dated a black man. I am raising a white boy. I think I know the particular ways in which I have privilege, and the ways in which I do not, in this culture. I might be wrong. Sometimes I think I don't know anything anymore. Sometimes I feel like we're living in a Margaret Atwood novel.
I feel like many Americans absolutely helpless in the face of such astonishing injustice and racism. I also feel like if I am going to do anything that comes from who I am it needs to be with my students and my children.
I had already decided to teach Claudia Rankine's Citizen next semester but now it seems more critical than ever. (A recent PBS piece on Rankine.)
I am so sad. And mostly I want my son to know what it means to be a white man some day and to use the privilege he has for generosity and good. And I also don't want him hated or feared because of the color of his skin.
Yes. To so many things here.
ReplyDeleteAnd thank you for the reference to Rankine ... I'd never read her before, and I can only hope that it sparks difficult but honest conversations.
I teach middle school in a school with primarily black students (I am white). When I see my students, I see all of their beautiful shades of skin and how it makes them all unique. However, so many of my students are quick to make rude comments to the darker students. They calling them "burnt" as though it is acceptable to laugh about and mock someone's genetics. Whenever I hear these comments, I say loud enough for all to hear, "when you mock someone for being darker than you, you are basically telling all the people lighter than you that you think they are better than you. Do you think I'm better than you because I'm white? That is very wrong." Usually the offender has a look of shock as they acknowledge what I have just said, the entire rest of the class takes a pause to realize the significance of it all. I see the gears moving in their minds, and I hope for that one moment they realize that they have a very valuable place in society....I think some of them have never thought about how their skin color dictates their place in society....and too many white teachers have simply told them to stop talking like that, rather than facing the actual topic at hand. It always breaks my heart hearing them treat one another like that.
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