Another norm for engaging in courageous conversations and anti-racist activism is No Fixing. I've found this easiest to explain with a metaphorical story.
A few months ago I was riding my bike home from work when I was hit by a car. I was going straight and I saw the driver at an upcoming intersection look left, directly past me, then pull out into the intersection to make a right hand turn. Luckily she was moving slowly, as I was right in front of her (in the bike lane, btw) when she drove into the intersection. She knocked me over, causing a bit of damage to the bike, but mostly just scaring both of us.
When she got out of the car, the first thing she said was along the lines of, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you!" She was crying while asking if I was okay.
At that point, I felt the need to comfort her, tell her it was alright, that I was doing fine. Physically, I was. Mentally, I was really shook up, as this also brought back the time I was nearly killed in another car/bike collision where the driver didn't see me. So, while reassuring her, I was simultaneously processing my past trauma.
What does this have to do with cultural competence? When people who are well-intentioned perpetuate racism unconsciously, they often respond with, "That's not what I meant". Thus, the attention gets focused on helping them feel better, or Fixing, rather than on the injury they caused.
Whether someone literally or figuratively "doesn't see you" doesn't change the fact that they knocked you down. I know that you didn't see me, didn't even consider that I might be sharing the road with you. However, what I want to know is are you truly sorry for what you did? And not just are you sorry, but will this experience change your behavior?
When we immediately jump to comforting or fixing the pain of causing harm to others, we sometimes overlook who really needs to be supported in this situation. That is not to say that causing a collision doesn't involve it's own form of trauma, I've certainly been devastated by unintentionally hurting people, but let's take the time to feel that pain.
From there we can see why this happened and what we can do differently in the future. The driver who hit me paid for my bike repairs and sent a card saying she was much more conscious of cyclists now. Maybe others can learn from this experience as well, so we don't all have to knock someone down in order to increase our consciousness. But if and when we do, we can focus on the impact, not the intent.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Norms for Anti-Racist Activism: Speak Your Truth & Listen for Understanding
I wrote and presented the following at an Episcopal Women's Gathering recently:
I'm going to give a brief overview of our approach to anti-racism work by explaining the norms we operate under. One of the first steps in dismantling racism is self-awareness. For me, as a White person, this means the on-going process of interrogating the dominant cultural norms I've taken for granted as "just the way people are" or "just how things are done". In contrast, the norms of People of Color are often referred to as "cultural". In redefining norms, we seek to make conversations and actions more explicitly equitable. The following are adapted from the work of Glenn Singleton's Courageous Conversations.
The first norm I'll address is Speak Your Truth. It is important to speak only for ourselves rather than use the universal you, as in, "You know how when you're driving and you don't see a cyclist...". The universal you assumes everyone you're speaking with has this shared experience, and it's use is particularly common among members of the dominant culture. It subtly implies the normalcy of the speaker's experience.
I was in a workshop at a Women of Color Conference and made the statement that women tend to be indirect in our communication. An African American woman quickly responded with, "You're not talking about Black women." Without realizing it, I had taken my cultural norm and generalized it to the experiences of all women. When speaking your truth, try to say "I" rather than "you" or "we" or be specific about the population you're referring to (this is a good time to practice not being colorblind.)
Being confronted like that made me very uncomfortable. It would have been easy for me to say, "But I'm here in this workshop trying to do this work, so give me a break. I'm one of the good ones!" or, "That's not what I meant,"or, "She shouldn't have said that in front of the whole group." Focusing energy on how the message was conveyed rather than what was communicated robs me of the opportunity to learn from my mistakes.
Sometimes Speaking our Truth comes out with passion. For different people this may mean raising our voice, crying, standing up, or any number of behaviors. Too often we dismiss the content of what was said because of the way it was said. Instead we need to practice the second norm, Listen for Understanding.
When I was teaching 5th grade I gave the students an assignment to research and report on social justice activists. I marked points off of one boy's presentation on Chinese Americans' detention on Angel Island for presenting on an experience of oppression, rather than activism. That night, I received a long email from the parents that essentially said, "You don't understand social justice from a Chinese American perspective." Although I conceded (in my head) the parents made many valid points in the email, I felt email itself was an inappropriate way to approach me about such a heated topic. I didn't respond in writing except to ask them to please set up an appointment to talk with me about their concerns.
They called me that night and began telling me why they thought I should change their son's grade. I quickly interrupted and said I didn't think the phone was the right way to have the conversation and asked if they could come to the school to meet with me.
It was toward the end of the school year and they were not available to meet before school got out. I refused to meet with them after the school year was over, as that would be during my summer vacation time. However, I assured them this one grade would not impact their son's overall report card. Not exactly what they were looking for.
This is a story I hesitated to share publicly, as it so clearly illustrates the way I protected my privilege and dismissed People of Color. They were offering to give me a gift, to educate me about the ways Chinese Americans have advocated for themselves throughout history and how this was different from my perspective that was mostly framed by Black activism in the Civil Rights Movement.
I had to lie to myself to deal with the cognitive dissonance I was experiencing. I saw myself as a social justice educator. They were calling into question not just one grade, but a large part of my identity. At that point, it was easier for me to blame them for not approaching me the "right way" than to truly examine my biases and Listen for Understanding.
When put into the context of dominant norms, cultural differences, and social capital, Speaking Your Truth and Listening for Understanding to someone sharing his or her truth becomes more complex. Yet it is this complexity of experiences and ways of expressing those experiences that defines a multicultural society. If we want society not just to be diverse but also to be equitable, one step is to take a close look at ourselves, acknowledge our privileges, learn from our past, and advocate for reshaping our norms.
I'm going to give a brief overview of our approach to anti-racism work by explaining the norms we operate under. One of the first steps in dismantling racism is self-awareness. For me, as a White person, this means the on-going process of interrogating the dominant cultural norms I've taken for granted as "just the way people are" or "just how things are done". In contrast, the norms of People of Color are often referred to as "cultural". In redefining norms, we seek to make conversations and actions more explicitly equitable. The following are adapted from the work of Glenn Singleton's Courageous Conversations.
The first norm I'll address is Speak Your Truth. It is important to speak only for ourselves rather than use the universal you, as in, "You know how when you're driving and you don't see a cyclist...". The universal you assumes everyone you're speaking with has this shared experience, and it's use is particularly common among members of the dominant culture. It subtly implies the normalcy of the speaker's experience.
I was in a workshop at a Women of Color Conference and made the statement that women tend to be indirect in our communication. An African American woman quickly responded with, "You're not talking about Black women." Without realizing it, I had taken my cultural norm and generalized it to the experiences of all women. When speaking your truth, try to say "I" rather than "you" or "we" or be specific about the population you're referring to (this is a good time to practice not being colorblind.)
Being confronted like that made me very uncomfortable. It would have been easy for me to say, "But I'm here in this workshop trying to do this work, so give me a break. I'm one of the good ones!" or, "That's not what I meant,"or, "She shouldn't have said that in front of the whole group." Focusing energy on how the message was conveyed rather than what was communicated robs me of the opportunity to learn from my mistakes.
Sometimes Speaking our Truth comes out with passion. For different people this may mean raising our voice, crying, standing up, or any number of behaviors. Too often we dismiss the content of what was said because of the way it was said. Instead we need to practice the second norm, Listen for Understanding.
When I was teaching 5th grade I gave the students an assignment to research and report on social justice activists. I marked points off of one boy's presentation on Chinese Americans' detention on Angel Island for presenting on an experience of oppression, rather than activism. That night, I received a long email from the parents that essentially said, "You don't understand social justice from a Chinese American perspective." Although I conceded (in my head) the parents made many valid points in the email, I felt email itself was an inappropriate way to approach me about such a heated topic. I didn't respond in writing except to ask them to please set up an appointment to talk with me about their concerns.
They called me that night and began telling me why they thought I should change their son's grade. I quickly interrupted and said I didn't think the phone was the right way to have the conversation and asked if they could come to the school to meet with me.
It was toward the end of the school year and they were not available to meet before school got out. I refused to meet with them after the school year was over, as that would be during my summer vacation time. However, I assured them this one grade would not impact their son's overall report card. Not exactly what they were looking for.
This is a story I hesitated to share publicly, as it so clearly illustrates the way I protected my privilege and dismissed People of Color. They were offering to give me a gift, to educate me about the ways Chinese Americans have advocated for themselves throughout history and how this was different from my perspective that was mostly framed by Black activism in the Civil Rights Movement.
I had to lie to myself to deal with the cognitive dissonance I was experiencing. I saw myself as a social justice educator. They were calling into question not just one grade, but a large part of my identity. At that point, it was easier for me to blame them for not approaching me the "right way" than to truly examine my biases and Listen for Understanding.
When put into the context of dominant norms, cultural differences, and social capital, Speaking Your Truth and Listening for Understanding to someone sharing his or her truth becomes more complex. Yet it is this complexity of experiences and ways of expressing those experiences that defines a multicultural society. If we want society not just to be diverse but also to be equitable, one step is to take a close look at ourselves, acknowledge our privileges, learn from our past, and advocate for reshaping our norms.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Why Tolerance Won't Work
A friend of mine sent me a photo of a poster she saw outside of an elementary classroom yesterday. In front of a colorful collection of crayons it read, "We could learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull. Others are bright, some have weird names, but they all have learned to live together in the same box." Interestingly enough, all of the crayons in the photo looked brand new, i.e. all of them were "sharp".
How is this supposed to inspire children coming into the classroom? The implied message, "Just because you have a weird name doesn't mean we won't put up with you," isn't exactly welcoming. And who gets to define weird versus normal?
One of the most important things a teacher, friend or co-worker can do is learn how to correctly pronounce someone's name, especially when the name is one you haven't heard before. Names tell a story about who we are culturally and individually. That is one difference between a society that values diversity, rather than one that tolerates "others".
Doing a little research, I found the quote attributed to Robert Fulghum, the author of All I need to Know I Learning in Kindergarten, which is obviously not true in this case. I also found a T-shirt with this message available on a website called AutismLink. The message on the shirt included the phrase "Practice Tolerance". Which makes me think they are promoting tolerating people who are, you know, a little "dull". Not because I personally think the autistic children I've taught and adults I know are dull, but because the fact is, we don't have to advocate for tolerance of people who are pretty, sharp, or bright.
The poster also reminded me of how desperately I wanted the 64 pack of crayons, the one with the sharpener, when I was in 1st grade, but my mom couldn't afford it. I went so far as to steal Colin's crayons, only to be caught when the teacher noticed that "my" box had his name written on it in sharpie. In a tolerant classroom, I would accept Colin and the other kids for having more, and they would accept me for having less. Apparently the difference in our access to resources shouldn't effect our effort or create resentment, even though some of us would have much more colorful pictures. That's easy for a 1st grader to understand.
In an equitable classroom, we would have access to the same coloring resources and accommodations that didn't label some as dull. In a classroom or workplace that emphasized social justice we wouldn't just be standing next to each other quietly accepting our allotted position in the box. We would be working together to change the systems that created the inequity in the first place.
How is this supposed to inspire children coming into the classroom? The implied message, "Just because you have a weird name doesn't mean we won't put up with you," isn't exactly welcoming. And who gets to define weird versus normal?
One of the most important things a teacher, friend or co-worker can do is learn how to correctly pronounce someone's name, especially when the name is one you haven't heard before. Names tell a story about who we are culturally and individually. That is one difference between a society that values diversity, rather than one that tolerates "others".
Doing a little research, I found the quote attributed to Robert Fulghum, the author of All I need to Know I Learning in Kindergarten, which is obviously not true in this case. I also found a T-shirt with this message available on a website called AutismLink. The message on the shirt included the phrase "Practice Tolerance". Which makes me think they are promoting tolerating people who are, you know, a little "dull". Not because I personally think the autistic children I've taught and adults I know are dull, but because the fact is, we don't have to advocate for tolerance of people who are pretty, sharp, or bright.
The poster also reminded me of how desperately I wanted the 64 pack of crayons, the one with the sharpener, when I was in 1st grade, but my mom couldn't afford it. I went so far as to steal Colin's crayons, only to be caught when the teacher noticed that "my" box had his name written on it in sharpie. In a tolerant classroom, I would accept Colin and the other kids for having more, and they would accept me for having less. Apparently the difference in our access to resources shouldn't effect our effort or create resentment, even though some of us would have much more colorful pictures. That's easy for a 1st grader to understand.
In an equitable classroom, we would have access to the same coloring resources and accommodations that didn't label some as dull. In a classroom or workplace that emphasized social justice we wouldn't just be standing next to each other quietly accepting our allotted position in the box. We would be working together to change the systems that created the inequity in the first place.
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