Notes from my field

Update #2

Thanks for your patience as I delved headlong into my work this semester. Two issues to report.

First update: A fellow colleague and I conducted our first race and culture dialogue after our Convocation last month, the first time I've been part of a multiracial team on campus. We had 28 individuals attend, which was our largest group yet. It was clear that this new change is moving us in the right direction, and I'm happy to report that the gentleman who joined me as a facilitator is willing to continue doing this work with me!

I'm still working on getting out of my office more to initiate those one-on-one conversations. I know I need to make time. But, something else has been also been calling for my attention...and this is the next update.

Second update: My new classes have begun. Two sets of students: one just beginning a preliminary teacher credentialing program, the other a group of veteran teachers. Both courses attend to issues of equity, diversity, and how that can and should affect a teacher's pedagogical approach.

Specifically, I'd like to share with you what is inspiring me at present. My students. I just completed reading personal narratives from the veteran teachers. I was blown away and grateful that I am working with them.

They are a diverse bunch. At least half appear to be children of immigrants, and a good number of them are first generation college attendees. They are Latina (with heritage from Mexico, El Salvador, and/or Cuba), African American, Irish, Scottish, and more. They are from the mid-west and the west coast. They are Catholic, public, and private school teachers. They recognize ways that they either have or have not felt advantaged and/or disadvantaged by the multiple social positions they occupy. They are individuals, first and foremost.

But there are also some themes that are so striking that I want to share them with you. In the midst of their sense of self as individuals, they are also keenly aware of themselves as members of a society that often does not offer an equal playing field. They are, as a group, absolutely committed to responding to the injustice they see within our education system. Whether they learned to use their voice as young women, challenging unfair wage discrimination, or as children watching their parents make sacrifice after sacrifice to send their children to Catholic schools where they felt they'd receive a high quality education, these are a group of highly self-reflective and insightful teachers.

Whether they challenge stereotypes by refusing to let any negative message about a lack of potential due to their racial background settle into their psyche or chose the teaching profession to ensure that they are positive and uplifting role models for those who are may succumb to negative messages, these are a group of highly dedicated and inspiring teachers.

And then, much to my joy, those students who self-identify as fitting into the category of "white" or "light skinned" are open to naming how that has or has not offered privileges. The sense of responsibility to serve and act in order to open doors (and perspective) for those they teach struck me. They teach in a diversity of settings. Those who teach primarily black and brown students speak of ensuring that they learn the cultures of the communities served. Those who teach primarily affluent, white students speak of bringing consciousness to them regarding race, class, and culture so that the young ones will be better able to navigate the world in a way that respects difference. They have learned much about power, privilege, and opportunity from their years spent in the field of education so far, and they are responding by taking up a course of study that will help them become leaders on their campuses. And, I'm so glad.

I don't want to overstate anything here. These are primarily individuals I'm just getting to know, and I am responding to introductory papers 3-5 pages in length. That said, I just can't help appreciating the position I occupy....and the students with whom I feel privileged to spend this semester.

California's Proposition 8 - Privilege and the Naming of Neutrality

My commentary here will be brief. I just want to alert you to a current issue/debate going on here in California that can be used to help us increase our ability to see how white privilege often shows up in our public debate.

Having said that, this issue is really not about race at all. It's about Proposition 8, an initiative passed by California voters that ended the ability of gay and lesbian people to legally marry in this state.

On August 13th , a pair of editorials were published in the LA Times. Links are posted below. They are both short and worth reading.

Lose the Ruling, Attack the Judge

A biased ruling on gay marriage in California

As you can see, neither say anything about white privilege. But, what I'd like to offer here is that there are links between the arguments presented here and the criticisms against the nomination of Sonia Sotomayor for the Supreme Court.

Basically, (and I'm probably abbreviating this too much) what I see is that when a group that has long held a position of power (and sees its way of life as the "norm") fears that there is another group becoming increasingly powerful and thereby potentially 1) receiving increased benefits from the system and 2) creating a cultural shift regarding what is considered "normal", there is a backlash. This backlash targets the less systemically powerful group as "biased", as though being part of a "minority" group automatically makes one incapable of rendering an objective and fact-based opinion.

Let's be clear, though, that the point I am raising is that the group that has long held power assumes that its representatives ARE absolutely neutral and are somehow more capable of generating a reasonable and fair perspective.

Pasted below is a perfectly crafted (in my opinion) satire of this issue as presented on Stephen Colbert's comedy show in regards to how it plays out in terms of race.

Stephen Colbert's THE WORD - Neutral Man's Burden

We should watch out for, and argue against, this problematic tendency whenever it arises. Because regardless of how you feel about this particular issue (gay marriage)...it is all tied up with power and privilege, and the people who are in a position to wield institutional power most often in this country are still both white and straight.

Notes from my field

Update #1:

This is a story about how my anti-racism practice shows up in my work world.

A couple of years ago, upon the publication of my book - Witnessing Whiteness - a fellow faculty member (turned administrator) mentioned feeling that convening a book club of faculty/staff at the College to read my book would be a good idea. Fabulous! I thought. I wanted to be able to share my work with my colleagues, but was really worried about being seen as some type of self-perceived know-it-all about race.

This colleagues put out an invitation to the College and two book groups emerged, one on each of our campuses. I attended each session on both campus, and other members facilitated the conversations. After a year, about 12 individuals remained invested in the discussion (some inspired by the book's contents), and discussion revolved around how to keep it going.

Throughout, I tried to hold my tongue and allow the process to develop organically (again, anxious about being too much in control).

What emerged was a plan for two types of dialogue spaces to occur the following academic year. One would be for open, unstructured conversation. The other would be in a more "workshop" format". All faculty/staff would be invited, and we'd develop the conversation and structure as people convened.

In order to support the process, I volunteered to show up to the first dialogue with a workshop structure and provide facilitation. It was mostly centered around community building and sharing interests, concerns, and goals. In no way was I invested in being the primary facilitator over the long run.

Much to my surprise, 23 individuals responded to that first invitation (including the College President) to spend two hours on a Friday evening discussion race and culture. I acted as facilitator. Things went well...very well. I was asked to continue to provide leadership and continue providing facilitative support.

Deep down I knew that there was an emerging problem. Invitations and facilitation for these dialogues were being done exclusively by three white women (myself, the originally inspired administrator, and one other invested, senior colleague). I knew the basic message conveyed was not a good one. And I also knew that my work life felt overwhelming.

I call the building in which I work a vortex. Once I enter each day I am completely swept up in the impressive array of logistics and conversations that I am responsible to guide and resolve. Over the course of the year I knew the value and import of reaching out to the people of color colleagues on campus in order to seek collaboration. I knew that multi-racial collaboration was the only to allow the dialogues to become safe spaces for the diversity of our staff/faculty to show up.

Because I didn't get out of the vortex, last year's dialogues were primarily attended by white faculty. Honestly, really honestly, this worked for me. I understand white caucusing. I think the work with white faculty is extremely important, and I was actually a bit happy to start there...realizing that pain awaited a person of color attending and listening to well-intentioned, but troubling, remarks about race/culture from some of my white colleagues.

But I also knew that something needed to change.

This change finally occurred this summer. During my break, I finally made it over to the office of a colleague of color who I admire and respect and who I've had conversations with in previous years about race. I knew he understands issues of power, privilege, and diversity really well. He's also a veteran staff person on campus.

I told him my story, unsure of what I was asking, if anything. But, I knew I needed to explain my efforts and why they looked like they did.

The feedback offered was a bit different than I'd imagined --- and that's precisely why it was important to take the step to ask for it.

It's resulted in a new collaboration. I don't know what levels of commitment we have to one another. But, he and I will be co-facilitating a first dialogue after our College's convocation in a couple of weeks. We've planned together, and it felt really good.

So, what's my point in telling this story?

I'm not perfect, and neither has been the enactment of my anti-racist practice on campus. I know that. But, I also know that taking one step at a time, continuing to reflect, and continuing to try and rectify and challenge areas where I'm not as good I want to be is a powerful thing...and essential for those of us who need to stay motivated to keep stretching ourselves.

I'm hopeful about this upcoming academic year...and I'm also nervous...for two reasons.

1) I'm choosing to invest more in my home community. That has already led to some challenging conversations. More are surely on their way.

2) This means I must set aside moments to escape the vortex of my job in order to have the one-on-one conversations necessary to build trust with other colleagues and repair any damage that might have been done during last year's white led approach.

Wish me well! I'll need all the positive thoughts coming my way that I can get.

Murder or mistake in Oakland, CA?

Oakland, CA. White cop. Unarmed Black man lying face down. Shot in back.

Murder or mistake?

As a middle-class, white woman with a retired police officer for a father (who I've always considered quite a good person), my life experiences lead me to give law enforcement officers the benefit of the doubt. Am I perfect? No. Do I face life and death situations regularly? No. Might I, in the face of some challenging experience, pull a gun when I thought I was going for my taser? I have no idea.

From what I read it seems that, at the trial of this white officer, the argument was made that this is what happened....that it was a mistake...that he meant to go for the taser. I write this is someone who is likely quite average when it comes to news. I am relatively aware. Not fully aware. Don't have time to read everything. Not completely unconscious. I try to keep up. Relatively aware. And reflecting on that middle-zone status is what has prompted this post.

My personal reaction to the verdict --- Manslaughter--- has been internally disruptive.

It comes down to this progression:
1) Manslaughter? Ok. Not absolved, but given the benefit of the doubt on the intent. Ok. Seems fair enough to me.
2) Protests? Hmm. A little reactionary? I mean, he was found guily of manslaughter, yeah? Not exactly let off the hook.
3) Posts and texts of outrage from my antiracist community? Oh, yeah. Right. Of course. Old story. Same outcome. (Great facebook note from Josh who did a Tim Wise style "flip the script" scenario -- Imagine if, and create the scene of a white man shot in the back by a black man and then the trial is transfered to a location with an all black jury...and then consider whether it's a fair trial. -- Thank you for that.)

And, I'm left wondering...

Here I am, someone who really thinks about white privilege and racism every day. I mean, every day. So, with as much attention as I put on trying to see and understand how racism, both subtle and not so subtle, both individual and institutional, is allowed to manifest, what is going on with me and my search for some type of "balanced" response? And, what might that say about the average white person who doesn't think about this stuff at all?

I admit, not proudly, that I spent about a week or so pondering how reactionary our country's political life seems. And, I lumped this in with it. It then occured to me that I needed to consider my vantage point. Why am I willing to read a few paragraphs in the paper, hear that a person is claiming it was a mistake, and simply believe it?

Two things. Yes, my experience with my father and unthreatening police officers in my life is one factor. But so is my ability to project myself onto this individual. Nothing in my life has caused me to believe really deep down that the average white person is intent on doing damage to people of color. It's not how I grew up, and it's not who I've met in the course of my life. I consider that a good thing, as far as it showing that many people really don't espouse overtly racist beliefs in the zones where I've lived.

These two factors led me to do an internal check. What if I were in this situation? I'm psychically putting myself in the place of the perpetrator and deciding that I can see that perhaps I would have made that error. Maybe. And maybe is enough to humanely go for manslaughter, right?

Now (thanks Josh) it's time to flip the script:

What if my entire set of life experiences taught me something radically different? What if my experiences with law enforcement consisted of scary events where people were injured at the hands of the police? What if my own family and friends had been victims and the police were not exactly appropriately protecting and serving? What if my life taught me that more often than not white people have gotten away with murder through getting the benefit of the doubt (at best) or outright racist policies (at worst --- see our history if you're skeptical)? What if my understanding of bias research ALSO tells me that people in our society are more likely to see black victims of police violence as more deserving of it than white victims (even when the situations are identical).

Put that all together, and then what?

I'm not pretending to say I know what the outcome of the trial should, or should not, have been. I wasn't there. I didn't hear the entire testimony. And, I'm only relatively aware (as I suspect is true for most.)

So, what can I say for sure?

White privilege struck again deep within me. It allowed me to think I was judging the situation on its "merits" in some type of objective way, as though I was being less emotionally "reactive" and more "balanced" than those who are responding angrily. When, in fact, it was my personal life experience that, without consciousness in the moment, shaped all of my initial thoughts and reactions.

So, the question becomes...for white people who are convinced that they are colorblind and that they aren't affected by race at all, what is the likelihood that they would do the type of internal check that I had to do in order to be aware of how privilege was shaping my "objective" response?

I'd wager that for most the likelihood is small to nil. Our culture doesn't support this level of deep thinking nearly enough. It's usually perceived as "guilt-induced" or "self-flagelating". Note that I don't believe I'm doing either of the two. I'm being honest. That's it. I'm noticing. I'm witnessing. I'm recognizing that varied experiences lead to varied perceptions which lead to varied conclusions.

So, what's the resistance about? Simple: The type of self-eval I did on myself messes up the (largely white-held) view that we're collectively beyond race and that we can be "objective" about these things.

It's not until I accept and attend to the fact that the effects of racism/privilege enter my psyche that I feel prompted to consciously work to get rid of it.

Believing we're "colorblind" in our responses shields too many of us from this recognition (sadly).

Do you agree? What's been your experience with this?

A great (if not new) resource about Liberals and white privilege

I know this isn't new. But, I think this blog post from Alter Net (see link below) could be a good resource for those of us who are trying to figure out how to talk to our progressive/liberal white friends/colleagues about race. The 10 misunderstandings described here are all too frequent, and the more we can get our minds (and speech) wrapped around why they are problematic the better.

White Liberals Have White Privilege Too! Ten misunderstandings white liberals have about race

Good luck as we keep trying to have these courageous conversations!

For the sake of transparency...A main prompt for this post arose from a really close friend of mine who is engaged in important work around prison justice. There are many, many good-hearted white people involved in these efforts and their dedication is both profound and appreciated. AND, it seems that there are many people of color who really need those of us (white people) engaged in this work to see the ways we bring our racial selves to the table...and this often means we have to learn that we do indeed have a racial self and that it often comes with socially learned habits of mind and action that (although subtle to us white folks) are really damaging to the people of color we are trying to work with.

Hopefully resources like this can help us prompt each other (and our friends/colleagues) to look more deeply at ourselves without defensiveness, so that we might learn how to better do our work with one another.

Best wishes as you continue on...

Homeboy Industries - Support Required

If you are even remotely interested in social justice and haven't heard of Homeboy Industries, and its slogan "Jobs not jails", well, I think perhaps there's a rock you've been under for quite some time. Father Greg Boyle has been one of the preeminent speakers and activists arguing for employment opportunities for former gang members for years. He's got a new book out Tattoos on the Heart (that I HIGHLY recommend) and his stories are both intensely inspiring and will simultaneously bring you to tears.

So, what's up? Insufficient funding WHILE the city takes advantage of its services (without paying for them). This is essentially a rallying cry.

Homeboy Industries' businesses (including Homegirl Cafe) are thriving. That's the great part. But, the comprehensive services the non-profit offers are still funded primarily through grants and donations. That's where we come it. They are short the funding they need and have had to make some drastic cuts that, if left to stay in place, will radically alter the lives of hundreds of people who are still in need of hope and support. (I have friends working there - disclaimer - but this means I also know what I'm talking about.)

There are three important things to do:

1) Read the editorial in the LA Times, Homeboy: What price hope?, and then tell me you don't think this is an essential group to support. Not possible.

2) Get out your credit cards or check books and get on the Homeboys website to become a supporter. I've just sent in my check and I really ask you to do the same.

3) If you are in LA (or not), make some noise at the Mayor who is happy to use his funding to hire gang interventionists who go out and get people to COME AND USE the Homeboys services, but then won't actually FUND Homeboy Industries itself for all the services it provides. Ridiculous and embarrassing!

Our city is better than this, and I think it's time the public allocates its own resources into the programs we know are effective.

Unlike my usual posts, this isn't just something to ponder. This requires action...as much as is possible for each of us. Since individual Homies are standing on street corners to do bake sales and car washes, the least we can do is stand in solidarity with them and contribute what we can to the effort.

May Day march in Los Angeles: May 1, 2010

As protests and boycotts surrounding Arizona's newly passed legislation continues, I'm reflecting on last Saturday's May Day march. Not much of a street demonstrator myself, I decided to venture out this year to stand (too crowded to really march) in solidarity with the working people of Los Angeles. Here's what happened for me:

Within 15 minutes of my arrival I found myself standing on a street corner holding a sign that read "White folks for immigrant rights" along with other AWARE-LA members who held various other messages lending support to the collective effort of the day. (See the LA TIMES article linked below where one of our AWARE members is mentioned toward the end. His sign said "Gringos for immigrant rights".)

LA's May Day immigration rally is nation's largest - LA TIMES

Soon after taking up the sign, other marchers began to ask if they could take our picture as they thanked us for being there. Admittedly, the white contingent out that day was rather sparse. But, white folks were there, and they weren't just with AWARE. We found some Unitarian Universalists collected, many white folks allied with other community groups, as well as some sole white folks who simply came out on their own. Two of them ended up talking with us to find out about our group and asked if they could be part of our AWARE group for the day.

As we stood out there together, one of our members began videotaping and asking us to name why we'd come out. While I didn't go on video at the time, here's what was in my head...I was out there to show support for the millions of undocumented people in this country who are striving for a better life, who want desperately to improve conditions for their family, who contribute to our country, and who have suffered the kind of economic difficulty that is often made worse by governmental failings (on all sides of borders). I thought of the quote I'd heard earlier that week attributed to the recently departed Dorothy Height wherein she said that although we may have come to this country on different boats, that we're all in this boat together.

I know that not all people come to this country by boat, and I know that there are debates regarding newly arrived people's "choices" in that regard. But even for a middle-class white girl like me, I already knew as a young teen that when Jean Valjean stole the bread in Les Miserables to feed his family, that his resulting imprisonment was unjust. I truly question how others who've experienced such privilege (whether it be race, class, or citizenship status) cannot imagine themselves into people's situations and recognize the lack of viable alternatives many face (and how our international treaties often make predicaments worse).

In the end, it was a lovely day. The families with strollers waiving flags and signs were a joy to see. And when I got back in my car to call a friend, his question to me was this..."So, how were the crazies today?"

My reply was this: The marchers by and large, basically hard-working, quite reasonable people. The only crazies I saw were the few tiny groups we passed along the side of the road offering a counter-protest telling us all that we were all going to hell.

Any other reflections from the day you'd like to share?