Ourselves as accountable

Our tolerance for the discomfort associated with not being able to recognize, name, and disrupt patterns of racial inequity and interpersonal racism within our school community suggests we have rationalized our financial and emotional investment in maintaining our position in an anti-Black racial hierarchy. For example, many responses position the (white) faculty, in general, and the participant, in particular, in opposition to the “language police” -- people understood as “well-intentioned” but part of the problem since their “hypersensitivity” creates an environment in which people do not feel comfortable asking questions or expressing our “legitimate concerns” about how our community initiatives conceptualize race and racism. The abstraction of “the language police” is then called upon as evidence of a barrier to authentic engagement, which helps to maintain the default narrative that our ignorance as reasonable: We avoid “being real” for fear the language police will misinterpret or mischaracterize what we say. In turn, this then functions to reinforce the illusion that we are “doing our best” and creates the conditions in which our default narratives go unchecked: What more can we do? We are all complicit. As a consequence, we qualify our institutional critiques as “just our opinion” because we believe our understanding is limited by what we directly observe in our classrooms. Thus, an unjust, racially inequitable, anti-Black status quo is maintained, while we continue to understand ourselves as one of the “good” ones (Bonilla-Silva, 2018). 

In a second-order change the facts remain the same, but the way we think about the facts changes (Watzlawick et al., 2011). Instead of asserting that “everyone’s a little bit racist” #AvenueQ and our complicity is unavoidable, we could focus our attention on the socially significant identity we enact for ourselves -- as well as the socially significant identities we necessarily build for others in the process (Gee, 2014). We do not have to wait for our community to come to consensus on the #endgame. There are socially significant identities an individual can strive for and enact. For example, instead of striving to be “not racist,” consider the following from Kendi (2018),

“Racist” and “antiracist” are like peelable name tags that are placed and replaced based on what someone is doing or not doing, supporting or expressing in each moment. These are not permanent tattoos. No one becomes a racist or antiracist. We can only strive to be one or the other. We can unknowingly strive to be a racist. We can knowingly strive to be an antiracist. Like fighting an addiction, being an antiracist requires persistent self-awareness, constant self-criticism, and regular self-examination. (Emphasis added, p.23)

This is consistent with my realization after I read Michael’s (2015) book, which inspired me to strive each day to be an antiracist (see Chapter 1). Enacting the identity of someone who strives to be an antiracist increased my feeling of agency: I was no longer self-consciously protective of my “good white person” status who “tried his best” to not be/appear racist. I committed myself to a way of being in the world that was consistent with my own espoused belief system: “We are the leaders we are looking for.” #GraceLeeBoggs As a result, I found that as I consistently worked to construct this particular identity for myself, my “new” identity became recognizable to others in the community and in #TheRealWorld. And it is through enacting this “new” identity -- as someone who strives each day to challenge injustice and the current anti-Black status quo -- I came to the realization that it was my default acceptance of my own ignorance, and the ignorance of other white people, that delayed the development of my racial literacy. That is, I believed we, white teachers, needed to wait for experts -- namely, people of Color -- to explain to us how we should think about and disrupt patterns of racial inequity and interpersonal racism in our community. 

I have since learned we white people are not ignorant when it comes to talking about race and racism. Leonardo (2009) asserts our “white racial knowledge” allows us to know how and when to shut down or redirect conversations about race and racism (p.108). To be clear, this is different than the knowledge white people have read or learned about race and racism. We have been socialized to know exactly what, how, and when to say something to derail a conversation that may call into question our understanding of the world (Sue, 2015). One reason our “comeback lines” are so insidious and elusive is that they get enveloped in a more global, less nuanced discursive understanding of privilege and entitlement. 

I now understand that my (white) colleagues and I do not need “awareness” training. We need consciousness-raising (Taylor, 2017; Bradley, 1971). We need new ways of being in the world. For me, this meant critically reframing the default narratives I used to make sense of myself: Rather than accepting “my ignorance as reasonable” and “myself as doing my best,” I now construct (read: enact and understand) my identity as someone who is accountable. As a consequence, I independently and proactively look for ways to ensure that I am accountable as a white educator who understands himself working in solidarity with others who are committed to a global struggle for social, economic, and environmental justice. 

Imagine a world in which white teachers viewed themselves and each other as accountable: We are accountable. A world in which we talked publicly and candidly about how our default cultural norms seem problematically close to Okun’s (n.d.) characteristics about white supremacy culture (Appendix F). A world in which teachers spent time reflecting on the social and academic features in our school and classroom environments (Phelan et al, 1998). A world in which we commit ourselves to working toward figuring out what we need to know each day. #Googleit As one participant shared when asked about the role teachers can play in disrupting patterns of racial inequity and interpersonal racism in our community,

I think they play a seriously important role. And I think that one of the roles they can play is to actually educate themselves so they recognize the patterns. And then be very explicit when the patterns rear their heads in their classes and simply-- well, not simply because it’s not simple, but to get in the habit of naming it when it happens. (Participant O, Phase Two Booklet, p.4)

Imagine a world in which white teachers reflexively recognized and named the five default narratives discussed in Chapter 4 as unproductive and problematic.