Breathing The Revolutionary Pen

“But I wasn’t sure that I considered myself a Latino writer, though not because I didn’t think of myself as “qualifying” as one.  I was undecided about the term “Latino writers” – indeed, about all such plural designations when applied to work as solitary and individual as fiction writing—words seeming to affirm an affinity with other writers of certain backgrounds, and that might instead be obscuring what I was trying to do was a novelist rather than illuminating any aspect actually worth taking note of.”

Francisco Goldman: State of the Art: Latino Writers, 1999, The Washington Post

We are altogether and we are individuals.  Yet, rarely is any issue solely about the one.  I know it’s impossible to ignore patterns, but we are all part of a bigger bang.  How can we un-tease ourselves from the limitation of seeing the world through one single filter?  Can we be anything else, than who we are, ranked and filed?  Yes, damn it.  We are all desperate to be done with it, once and for all—the Tower of Babel.  Down with it!

Let’s take a look at how we use language to perpetuate this obsession with identity.  It enslaves some and communicates a false sense of neutrality or “standard” from which all others must compare (Howard Zinn spent his whole life talking, writing and educating people about this).  Look at what you read and ask what is the impact on your thinking?  Are there subtleties that stop us from expansive thinking?

Too often characters in books, for example, that are described simply as, “The woman,” “The man,” or “The girl” followed by an action such as, “who carried the envelope across the room” are by default… white?  Characters that are of the “other,” persuasion are always described as, “The black woman (African American) woman, “The Latino male,” or the “Asian child” even though the book is set in America (which begs the question of whether or not the Latino or Asian character were even born here).  But, yes. Say this as Lawrence Fishburne says this in the Matrix.  Y  e  s.  Characters in books are never identified as white, they are simply.  The notion of racial or ethnic "identity" is only relevant for non-white characters, as if this identity must and should be central to our understanding of who they are.  How can we get past identity and just focus on the work that must be done if we are given these filters, etched out in our literature? Literature is how we teach children to see the world.  

Critical literacy is to first understand how we are taught to see the world through the lens of a dominant narrative and admit it.  If we do this, we can tear it down and free ourselves from it.  We must un-tease ourselves from the illusion and begin to see each other and ourselves as characters in a play, with directors and producers and if you are into “class warfare,” admit to a pre-determined budget.  Who is the playwright?  And what is the moral?  Don’t be afraid to ask whether God has intended the Tower of Babel to teach us something.

This is a marvelous and important question:  Does identity “obscure” what we are really trying to do in life, as Goldman states?  If so: What are we really trying to do?

Don’t be stuck.  Some stay so miserably stuck for a lifetime.  Why is it that we cannot get past that which prevents us from moving on?  Be responsible for the power and privilege behind your pen.  Breathe a revolution into your writing and freedom into your teaching of literature.

The Outsiders: Latino Perspectives on Voice, Agency & Leadership

What are the implications for educators?

With Dr. Xaé Alicia Reyes, Professor of Education & Puerto Rican & Latino Studies, University of Connecticut & Hector Luis Alamo, Jr.,  Blogger, Assoc. Editor, @BeingLatino

“The problem is us and how we usually think about ourselves. We have so many positive attributes...but we think they are a negative, because we don't see it in media, and that knocks you down. And then it's very hard to get up. Then you start thinking that you're independent because you have to be, because you're on the outside. You know what? Change your mind; change your thinking...and realize you're independent because you want to be. That's a huge difference. It will give you a lot more confidence when you realize "I'm independent" means "I depend on no one." That kind of thinking is essential to creating change in the face of adversity. Don't just accept that we're not seen as more prevalent in the media. Do something about it.”

Robert Rodriguez, Director

If I look back into my numerous journal entries over the years, the outsider theme is threading.  Not like the subtle threading on the hem of pants, more like the thick thread of wool yarn that weaves in and out, across, up and down in an afghan.  In my poetry, the threads are pastel and shimmery, as if the fabric is being held under a soft light.  In the free writing rampage I sometimes call babbling, stitches are blood red, black and blue.

I often think I know everything I need to know about being Latino (it is after all, my life—) but the older I get and my own understanding of identity evolves, I realize I know much less than that.  It’s like being married for twenty years.  You think you know your spouse and then you realize one morning watching from across the bed, that you and he are strangers-- two human beings sharing a journey but with a vast mystery between you. The Latino experience is all at once my own and a mystery simultaneously. 

I look over at my coffee table and spot Miradas: Por Los Caminos de Un Pais Oculto— a book of photography by Juan Diego Perez Arias. In English this title means: Insights: From the Backroads of a Hidden Country.  This lovely book was a gift from my Ecuadorian-American friend who went back to her “mother country” not too long ago.  In its entirety, it’s a composite— snapshots of a Latino-ness that is both familiar and foreign to me.  The geography, the food, the facial features of the country’s inhabitants are reflected in this beautifully photographed slice of Latin America and much of it remains outside my scope of experience and understanding.  I flip through the pages and marvel at the diversity.  At first I see the media dominant Indigenous faces, the long black hair in a braid, sun burnt, leathery skin, wide nose, sharp black eyes, thick eyebrows.  But then as I turn the pages I find pictures of fair skinned Ecuadorians, with ruddy complexions and following them are photographs of dark brown Ecuadorians who look like Africans. Each Ecuadorian is depicted wrestling with nature, some barely dressed, others wrapped in thick wool garments.  All of this—the hot and cold, the mountain and the coast, the various shades of fair to tan to dark brown skin is Ecuador.  This is familiar to me.  Absolute diversity is the underbelly of the Latino people and it is under-recognized.

I ask: what unifies me, if anything, to these Ecuadorian people—a woman of Puerto Rican heritage?  Outside of the fact that these are the people of my life-long friend, outside of the fact that they speak Spanish… what do we really have in common?  Is language ancestry enough to create unity? 

Hector Luis Alamo, Jr. (Blogger & Associate Editor @ Being Latino) asks me this very question:  What do you think unites Latinos besides Latin American ancestry?  Is there something (a trait, a political issue, socio-economics) that Latinos can rally behind?  I’m not sure.  If the answer were no, that there is no real Latino community because of the diversity then that would really change things, wouldn’t it?  Maybe it would be a good thing to do that…to dispose of the notion of Latino-ness.  How would each of us define ourselves if we did? 

Then I think— maybe the thing that unites Latinos is the diversity.  Can it be this outsider experience, this intersection of so many variables within ourselves, the multiple “identity” boxes we can check on the census, that can change on any given day, how you wear your hair, what language you choose to speak, what you eat—beans, ceviche or peanut butter and jelly?  It can change politically even, imposed upon you by government or for personal reasons.  Latinos can choose to take a leave of absence, as you will read later on when Dr. Reyes shares her experience as a college professor. Maybe Latino unification stems from this unique outsider/insider understanding, a higher consciousness if you will, that there is impossibility contained within the human labeling experiment, that no person should be identified by a category.  Latinos are so full of nuance--who better understands the concept that “one size does not fit all?” 

I started this dialogue on Latino perspectives with Hector Luis Alamo, Jr. and Dr. Xae Alicia Reyes (Professor of Education & Puerto Rican Studies at University of Connecticut) because I was tired of thinking about these things, talking about them with close friends and family and not making a commitment to a formal public inquiry.  But the final impetus was when my husband and I sat in front of the television watching an all-white cast perform a sitcom.  The lead started talking about cleaning and then within seconds “Maria?  Maria, where are you?”  That’s when my Latina sister came onto the set and my husband and I looked at each other, shook our heads and laughed. “There it is again!”  It’s funny how every single time, no really—every single time, like clockwork, the only Latino face on the screen is the maid, the cleaning lady or the gardener or something.  Latinos are almost always cleaning or housekeeping.  Take a look, it’s a science.  You know when blacks say that they’re the first ones killed in any movie, well, look who comes in, stage right to clean up the brother’s guts?  A Latino.

There were other reasons that propelled me to reach out to Hector and Dr. Reyes.  I had so many questions that I wanted to explore.  Questions like, why are so many Latinos dropping out of school and do Latinos agree with what should be done about it?  Why are there so few Latino scholars, philosophers that I know about, read about, think about? Why would I— a Latina with a PhD in education not be scooped up in a minute by any school, university or educational organization when Latinos are in a serious crisis academically and when there are  so few positive role models out in the field?  Why do I always feel like an outsider even though I’ve been told Latinos are a community?  What does belonging mean to me and is this the same for other Latinos? Why are many Latinos less likely to help their own (as compared to whites or Jews) to secure a job?  Are Latinos secretly petrified that their secret Latino identity will be discovered (White Latinos by white folks, and black Latinos by African Americans) or that they’d be labeled an advocate or even worse—an activist? 

After reaching out to several fellow Latinos, Hector and Dr. Reyes agreed to join me in a conversation; a conversation that is not compensated in any way other than the personal reward of knowing that engaging in dialogue can expand the minds of others.   It takes a lot of time.  See it as a pure act of agency and love for community. 

Hector and Dr. Reyes are both different ages, different genders and are doing very different things for a livelihood. They both answered the same questions. The idea was that if I can juxtapose different perspectives in one on-line discussion, readers would be able to unpack some of the prevalent issues affecting the Latino community today.  It is also my hope that those of you who are teaching and/or working with young people, you can learn something here, expand your craft and have greater compassion in life.

For the most part, I’ve kept what each participant shared in tact with minor editing so that you as a reader can get a feel for the individual voice.  This has made the dialogue quite long, albeit extremely worthwhile.  At the end, I add a few questions for further discussion on the implications for educators. I hope that you appreciate the discourse and feel free to post comments or questions at the end.

Relevant Terminology

Voice: An individual’s unique expression of self, how they communicate with the world and actualize their role within it.

Agency:  An individual’s belief in one’s capacity to make a difference in the world; to be able to change or modify conditions of life for the better.

Leadership: Galvanizing, empowering and organizing others in order to effectively reach a common goal

***

Persistently, Latinos appear on television and in Hollywood as cleaning ladies, maintenance men and gardeners. Also, characters that are overly sexualized or involved in drug related crimes. What impact do you think this has on Latino youth identity and agency?

Dr. Reyes:  The bigger issue here is developing awareness in our young people regarding media (mis)representations and perpetuation of negative or single story stereotypes.  On one hand we need to educate children, both at home and at school, regarding the pervasive effects of negative images and how we need to question the absence of positive images of Latinos (without devaluing service jobs  where we need to acknowledge a significant presence)  discussions have to include why we are situated in these ways?  How there is an underground economy and why?  The role of education in these dynamics is critical.  Parents need to participate and encourage discussions of these issues when viewing media—even ads have subliminal and pervasive messages about success, and one’s place in society. This entails monitoring what is being viewed and making it a shared activity—often the busyness and multiple demands of our socioeconomic environments make this sharing difficult and children end up watching hours of unsupervised media. This also calls for community conversations that construct the awareness that is often missing in newcomer communities regarding these stereotypes and their impact on our children.

Hector: First, beyond the debate on whether life imitates art or vice versa, I would argue that, especially in today’s society, art influences life.

In the black community, for instance, many black boys grow up thinking that their only doorway out of a bad environment with few prospects is to become either a professional athlete or a hip-hop artist. If you’re raised in place like South Side Chicago, what other role models are there? Sure, there are successful black men and women like Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, the First Family, etc., but young blacks living in impoverished parts of America’s inner cities aren’t bombarded with those images. They’re bombarded with the images of black athletes and rappers, men and women who seem, to these kids, to better represent them and the people in their community.

If you’re a young Latino growing up in America today, what positive role models are you presented with on a regular basis? Few, if any. Most of the Latino portrayals are only caricatures of Latinos. Who does someone like Sofia Vergara – bless her heart – represent? If it weren’t enough that she’s been accused of overdoing her latinidad, not only is she from Colombia (so, technically, is she a Latina?), but she’s also highly sexualized. Latinas are heavily sexualized all over the shop: Eva Mendez, Eva Longoria, Rosario Dawson, Jessica Alba, and the list goes on. These are all talented women, no doubt, but the key ingredient in their fame is their status as sex icons.

On the male side of things, Latino men are constantly emasculated and subordinated, regularly given roles which present Latino men as lowly workers, violent criminals, drug addicts or, on occasion, even objects of sexual gratification.

At the very least, such images in the media leave little or no room for other, more positive role models for Latino kids; at its worst, such images teach kids that they and the members of their community can achieve no more than what’s depicted on TV. No, actually, there is something worse than that: false portrayals have the potential of redefining latinidad by teaching kids that to be Latina is to be sexy and submissive and to be a Latino man is to be deficient and inferior – and/or sexy as well.

What are your thoughts on the relationship between the portrayal of Latinos in the media and the 60% dropout rate of Latinos from high school in urban centers across the US? Do media images also impact educators’ expectations of Latino academic/intellectual performance as a group?

Hector: I believe I touched on the first part of this question in my previous response. But to continue on the subject, it seems obvious to me that a lack of television portrayals depicting Latino educational achievement is likely to lead to lower Latino education achievement in the real world.

People will do what they know. So if a Latino child is not shown Latinos on TV doing something as simple as studying for exams, completing homework, attending class, graduating from high school and going off to college, then Latino kids won’t know that such things should be a part of Latino life. Likewise, if Latino kids are shown Latinos on TV skipping class, failing their courses, not graduating from high school and committing crimes, then Latino kids will be under the wrong impression that such things are part of a prescribed Latino life.

As for educators, Latinos who educate Latino children are in a better position to remove the particular falsehoods of Latino life from a Latino child’s mind. By becoming a teacher, they’ve obviously rejected the mainstream narrative of Latino disability being portrayed by the media – if not wholly, then at least partly. Still, they may harbor their own falsehoods about Latinos and may do nothing when they see that their Latino students share the same beliefs about Latino hopelessness.

For non-Latino educators, if they haven’t been trained on an ethnically-diverse environment, or if they haven’t been trained to be open-minded about the members of other communities, they’re likely to bring the false portrayals of Latino-ness with them into the classroom. As a Latino, how could I blame a non-Latino for thinking that I, as a Puerto Rican man, am probably a womanizer who carries a switchblade, comes from a broken home and cannot be helped because I am unwillingly to think differently about my future? 

Television tells non-Latinos that I am those things, and if they aren’t given any other examples of Latino-ness and puertorriqueñidad to compare with, then non-Latinos cannot know what I’m truly like and are left with only the image they’ve been given with which to judge me by.

Dr. Reyes: In my work I have found that many educators themselves have little to no firsthand knowledge about communities in urban centers.  Their limited understanding of socioeconomic conditions and everyday lives of students in these communities creates challenges when they attempt to connect the materials they are to teach, to students’ circumstances (in order to make them relevant) and furthermore the educators’ own understandings of the communities is influenced by media (mis)representations and sensationalism. Film after film of images of the worst schools populated by mostly Latinos and Blacks---from Lean on Me, Dangerous Minds, Freedom Writers, Stand and Deliver and many more, even when they are stories of success—still reinforce images of negative behaviors as “the norm” among the urban kids. What do you remember form films about schools and teachers and how did it relate to your educational experiences?

Understanding poverty and poor housing conditions is paramount to understanding the impact of resources, or their lack of, on children’s cultural capital –while after school programs can fill some of the void, funding for these has become scarce.

As you know, school “reform” is on everybody’s mind, especially reform of segregated schools that educate Blacks and Latinos. If you had to wave a magic wand, how would you change the “schooling” experience?

Dr. Reyes: In the ideal world schools would be complementary sites of community life: families would be there after school and on weekends to attend (academic, arts, sports, cultural) events with and by their children, classes would be offered for parents to improve and gain educational skills; health and civic events would be offered to improve the quality of life for all. All children should be provided with opportunities to be educated without any limitations based on their income or immigration status-as a matter of human rights.
(I had an article on this in  2010 in the OIJES on line publication.)

In addition, higher education partners should be involved in a more integrated manner –which would make the impact and connections to college more clear to our less privileged communities. TRIO programs (Upward Bounds and others) have been fulfilling this role for many years ---and sadly some of these programs that have made a difference in recruitment and retention in our universities and colleges–are being defunded. They are models and have already demonstrated success ( Martinez 2003 in JLE). More incentives like Pell grants and non-loan related monies need to be provided.

Hector: I think it’s impossible to envision what a magic-wand solution might look like, because problems within the black and Latino schooling experience are a product of much deeper issues in America. The so-called “dropout factories” failing our young black and Latino students – who represent the future of their respective communities – are like the relatively minor symptoms of some great societal disease causing widespread internal damage.

So, therefore, to fix the schooling experience would only be to treat the symptoms of this disease – a dual disease, in fact, whose common names are institutionalized racism and class warfare, which have been such integral facets of American society since early history that the country seems unimaginable without them.

I’ve introduced the issues of racism and class warfare here because it would be farcical to discuss the failure of our school system in the inner cities without addressing its root causes. It’s often pointed out – and rightly so – that to talk about race in America is to talk about class in America, and vice versa. It’s no coincidence, then, that blacks and Latinos are disproportionately much poorer than whites, that they tend to live in decaying neighborhoods with fewer opportunities, that their schools tend to be underfunded and that their children tend to receive lesser educations.

If we really want to fix to the school system so that black and Latino children are given the same opportunity to achieve academically as their white counterparts, we’ll have to first tear down the columns upholding institutionalized racism and class warfare, and I don’t think there’s enough magic in the cosmos to do away with those issues in one flick of the wrist.

How does race & language (afro-Latinos, skin color and proficiency with Spanish) impact Latino identity and the development of a unified voice?

Hector:  Race (more appropriately, skin color) and language are the two main categorizations within the Latino community. Generally speaking, there are black Latinos (Afro-Latinos), white Latinos and “brown” (non-white, non-black) Latinos. Most Latinos are a combination of two or more of these three categories. In terms of language, there are, of course, Spanish-speakers and English speakers; and then there are bilingual (mixed-language) speakers. Again, most Latinos are bilingual to a greater or lesser degree. A majority of Latinos are of Mexican descent (61 percent, with Puerto Ricans following at a distant 9 percent), and because Mexican identity has been defined by the image of the noble Aztec – fueling the sectarian notion of “Brown Pride” – Latino-ness is mostly defined through the same paradigm.

Brownness and the Spanish language are seen as definitive factors of what it means to be Latino – brownness because the Aztec were dark, and Spanish because it’s the native tongue of Mexico (although, not the Native tongue.) White skin and the English language are viewed as scars of conquest (though again, ironically, Spanish was the language of conquest before English was.) And black skin is viewed as the scar of slavery. (The Spaniards brought slavery to North America; the British just perfected it.)

Skin color and language serve as markers for a sort of caste system within the Latino community. The browner you are and the better you speak the mother tongue, the more Latino you’re considered to be.

Mastery of the Spanish language, however, becomes less of a big deal as successive generations of American-born Latinos progress, since English is the main language of the United States and anyone who can’t speak it is viewed as at a disadvantage on various levels. Being bilingual is preferred in every generation (especially considering the direction in which the bilingual nature that the economy is trending toward), but to be a third-generation Latino American who hasn’t mastered English, for example, is deemed completely unacceptable.

Dr. Reyes: The divisiveness within the Latino community has had an impact on our inability to coalesce around issues. Intra-group dynamics are influenced by all of the factors mentioned:  language proficiency—in Spanish to claim “latinidad”; skin color to “fit” stereotypical images promoted by media; and class differences.  In studies conducted by my students in university settings, students admit that they pass as mainstream if their phenotype and English proficiency make that possible; and some Afro-Latinos feel more accepted among Blacks. The issue of citizenship creates other tensions between groups and so do the dynamics of the host community towards other groups.

So often American conversations center on Black-White politics and pundits still seem to reflect this dichotomy (especially in the North East). When Latino issues do come up in the media, I notice a focus on language (bilingualism, needing to learn English) followed by immigration/ illegal immigration. How are these topics potentially “divisive” in the Latino community? What other topics are equally relevant that can help us better understand why Latinos continue to struggle as a community (socio-economically speaking) and particularly with regards to 2nd & 3rd generation Latinos with strong “American/ assimilated traditions?”

Dr. Reyes:  The discourses on bilingualism have been politicized so that some misinformed individuals see the maintenance of native languages as divisive because they cling to old models of immigration where the minimal non-academic English was sufficient for the factory jobs of the time. In our modern and globally oriented society, more academic English is necessary for a more sophisticated job market.  Second Language learning is enhanced by stronger skills in the Native Language, in addition the development of bilingualism enhances intellectual development in the learner –research has shown that bilinguals test better and learn third (and more) languages more efficiently (Dr. Luis O. Reyes of Hunter is a “clearinghouse” of all of the research available on this issue—and others related to BE and ELs) 

There are different socio-political and socio-economic circumstances that have affected the host culture’s (U.S) reception of different groups historically in different eras—(*MacDonald 2004,  does a very good job deconstructing these historical circumstances and their impact on educational policy, in general, depending on the national goals at the time, and towards particular groups.) We need to know the histories of different waves of immigration and how policies related to these connect to possibilities for success and integration of groups into the economy. We also need to have discussions about how groups negotiate cross-cultural values, and learn to navigate and understand expectations of the host community while strengthening and enriching it with the diverse perspectives of newcomers. Changing a culture of fear and apprehension towards difference to a culture of reciprocity in intellectual and cultural sharing, needs to be a goal for all educators.   

These are the texts assigned in my Latinos and U.S. Education graduate course:

MacDonald, Victoria M .(2004)   Latino Education in the United States: A Narrated History from 1513-2000 Palgrave -MacMillan

Reyes, X.A. & Rios, D. (2003)  Eds. "Latinos, Education and Media" Special Issue of Journal of Latinos and Education, 2(1) Lawrence Erlbaum: Mahwah, NJ.

Darder, A. (2012). Culture and Power  in the Classroom: Educational Foundations for the Schooling  of Bicultural Students.   Paradigm Publishers. Boulder,CO.

Hector: The problem with attempting to pinpoint the problems facing the Latino community is that Latinos are not technically a community – and if we are, then we’re an extremely broad one. Politics and history alone have lumped us together. Being Latino, in its simplest form, only means that one’s genes can be traced to some mixing that occurred somewhere in Latin America, sometime in the past 500 years. If that’s true of you, then you are – at least in part – a Latino. Still, being Latino doesn’t tell us much else about a person. It doesn’t tell us what they look like, what language they speak, where they live or what obstacles they face. Sure, there are things we can say generally about Latinos that might apply to a majority of them, but the same can be done with women or men or children; yet, there’s no “child community.”

What Latinos share in common is Latin America and all that entails. But that still doesn’t mean that all Latinos will or should agree on U.S.-Latin American policy, immigration law, education reform, women’s rights, gay rights and so on. Latino political and social views run the gamut from Tea Party conservatives to socialist liberals. This being the case, it’s not altogether rare to come across two Latinos who have as little in common with one another as a cat has with a bird.

What personal or professional lived experience has impacted your own sense of agency as an educator or writer?

Hector: I have no sense of agency as a writer, especially as an Afro-Latino, second-generation American writer. Most of the time, I feel like I’m screaming into a howling wind. As a Latino writer, you have to write constantly if you hope to be heard once. I read a lot of what’s circulating in the media, watch TV shows, listen to music, but I almost never see or hear anything which I feel represents someone like me: a young, second-generation American – not fully Latino, not fully black, molding an identity out of spare bits.

Dr. Reyes: I have found that being an active part of the broader community is essential to being an effective educator—understanding the social context in which teaching and learning occurs is imperative to making education culturally responsive and transformative. My most important lessons in life have come from my parents—Jesus M. Reyes and Alicia Valentine—their sense of community was blended into our life experiences in a natural way –they helped neighbors, family and friends and had my sister and I do the same, since I can remember ( in P.R., in the mainland, and in Germany –where my dad was stationed  for 3 years). We were encouraged to help others and respect people regardless of backgrounds, appearances, and any socially constructed barriers---interest in diversity and interest in languages and other cultural traditions were always a part of our lives.  Our bilingualism was nurtured and we were expected to read and write in both English and Spanish and to value all cultural and life experiences from any person we encountered. In my eventual career path I was committed to making a difference and decided that teaching teachers would be the way I could try to open minds to possibilities and opportunities through embracing multicultural and diverse socio-economic settings and experiences. 

However, there are some other "moments" that are defining. Initially---in my early years --- I had encounters with some students who would ask if it was the first time I taught at a University.  I understood this as doubt regarding my credentials/ ability to be their professor.  I would draw from my father's sense of humor and say--"My-do I look that young? Well no--as a matter of fact I have taught at --and then give my extensive list and stop abruptly and say--"I'll stop because the list would age me."  On a more serious note, I would engage in difficult dialogues that were meant to unpack the misconceptions and stereotypes—often in writing (so the one-on-one helped)  but at times I had to respond to difficult statements in class:  questions about affirmative action, assumptions about welfare, phenotypes, "benefits" perceived as free rides for  PRs ( You don't pay taxes do you?  And I'd respond --no we pay blood --my dad and many other Puerto Ricans fought in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam.)  Latino students who met me around campus would ask if I worked in the library or if I taught Spanish...they had no expectation that I could be on the faculty or that if so it would be outside of foreign languages. In the Latino community nearby, when someone found out that I worked at UCONN, I was often asked what shift--since most of the staff they know there are custodians-- (the community where I socialize is considered low-income with many generations of Puerto Ricans who had come to work at the now defunct American Thread--Recent immigrants come from Mexico and Guatemala)

Connecticut's Latino/as are not as present in higher education as we would like --as students--and much less as faculty. So I have been told many times that I am the first Latina faculty students have had.  If they are phenotypically able to pass, some of my Latino students do not identify as such--when they do "come out," I marvel at the fact that many colleagues had no idea that they were Latinos (although after so many years at this I shouldn't be surprised).  Many of these behaviors and expectations are grounded in the perceptions of power and status. If students see one kind of person in the leadership and authority positions and published repeatedly in mainstream journals--why would they identify with the absent scholar? -The media perpetuates these images... think of all the "great" teachers in movies---and the one exception being Jaime Escalante....even in journalism in the political commentary shows there is a paucity of Latinos.

I took major risks a few years back before I got tenure here-- trying to talk about these issues candidly and get published...I used the dialogical format seeking to tease out this conversation --I also wanted readers to think about these issues and their consequences because if we are truly serious in higher education, about changing the landscape to reflect our demographics and do justice to those that have been excluded--we need to understand the barriers. In the end, the problems persist because the topic seems to be of interest only ( or mostly) for those of us who have lived these experiences. They seem to be viewed as "whining" by our colleagues --if in fact they ever read about them.  

I have tried to channel my energy into mentoring others to access graduate school and eventually even position themselves as faculty and administrators.  I remember teaching an undergraduate course to a group of mostly Latino undergraduates recently and having them ask me very basic information on how a person becomes a professor and what a PhD entails and what faculty ranks mean --and tenure...and I decided that we need to be more deliberate and unveil the mysteries of participating in higher education at the most basic levels.  So I now regularly take time to talk about these elements that are part of the social capital shared by some and perpetuated as legacies among themselves…thus acting as gatekeepers (be it intentionally or not). 

I do believe that there is an admiration for those mainstream faculty that take on a diversity agenda (some are colleagues I respect) and I see more support for them from the mainstream students who feel they can identify with them--- I am reminded of the book "White Teacher" that was a favorite in the day because our predominantly white pre-service teacher population identifies with it as they do with professors who look like them.  When we engage in advocacy as Latino faculty, it is perceived as --"well of course, it's their issue".   I have had some breakthroughs with my mainstream students when they are able to realize that there is a lived experience that I can relate to and share that will add authentic understanding of the dynamics they will face in the classroom.  I once said to an all mainstream class that I was the only person in the room that could claim overt "otherness"--I was challenged by another student who felt he was of a non-majority religion and my statement was defended by a gay female who stated the obvious --that one's religion and sexual orientation are covert and do not lead to identification of any kind ---while I, on the other hand might speak perfect English and yet based on my appearance continue to be asked where I'm from.

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Reflection Questions & Implications for Educators

1. What strategies can educators use to engage in discussions about the portrayal of Latinos in the media without devaluing service jobs? 
2. What types of projects help students explore & value diversity within the Latino community?
3. What can school leaders do to attract and retain diverse staff to act as role models of scholarship & success?
4. How can we advocate for arts in education programs understanding that art is a vehicle to express voice and challenge mainstream media?
5. What can teachers do to build rapport and engage effectively with Latino students? 
6. How can teachers better understand the impact of poverty, immigration status and living conditions on student engagement?  What supports must schools provide?
7. How can we challenge the notion of status based on skin color or language proficiency within the Latino community?
8. How can educators collaborate across ethnic lines in order to broaden the diversity agenda towards impacting education policy and practice?
9. What are the benefits of experiencing otherness or outsider-ness in the development of character and agency?
10. How can we develop agency amongst ourselves as a community?  How can we support, encourage and open doors for each other—especially in the face of adversity and persistently low expectations?

LINK TO ARTICLE: LATINO VOICES & THE IMPACT ON EDUCATION @ BEING LATINO

Stepping Out of the Box: Cross Cultural Identity Literature for Young Adults

With Patricia Dunn, Author of Rebels by Accident

Out of the Box, 2007, Rios

            I have a bone to pick when it comes to labels.  Labels even as seemingly harmless as “multicultural.” Maybe it goes back to high school, when I attended a prestigious prep school in New Hampshire.  On the first day I was there, I was told to attend a minority “mixer” so that I could make friends.  There were two maybe three Latinos at the school then and the rest of the “minority” group were African Americans, many of whom came from the South and segregated communities. (Later, I met Asians and a few other “international” students, but apparently they weren’t invited.)  I, on the contrary, grew up in an integrated, middle class section of the North Bronx where my friends spanned the spectrum of diversity—lots of Jews and Irish, Asian, Latino, Indian, African American.  Being thrown into an overwhelmingly chocolate brown minority mixer at the start of high school did not give me a sense of welcome, nor community.  I remember thinking:  Do I really have more in common with these kids over the mainstream/general population/majority kids who all went to another party?  Why is my friendship circle being chosen for me? 

            I understand that the intentions of the school were noble especially within the context of the time. In fact, many prep schools even today do this sort of “minority” grouping for networking & support and with positive results, I might add. But for someone like me who was raised in a diverse neighborhood  and attended an integrated school (back when diverse still meant many different groups together—including  whites), this specialized welcoming experience felt more like segregation to me.  It was that box-me-in, you-tell-me-who-I-am experience.  It’s not surprising that I failed miserably at navigating that prep school’s racialized social terrain.  I had never compartmentalized relationship building that way, had never chosen friends by ethnicity or race.  I had been raised with the openness and freedom (a luxury now-a-days!) to choose relationships based on affinities...like all children should, you know—to be the out-of-the-box children we want them to be.  

            Likewise, some books are cornered off in the “multicultural literature” section of Barnes and Nobles.  This is boxing.  So is creating cultural specific labels on bookshelves at school or hosting a multicultural day when white kids look at the “others” to teach them something different rather than feeling like they too should explore the awesomeness of their unique identity.  Of course, in segregated schools, none of that matters. In some brown schools that I’ve worked in, they only teach multicultural books for the children. So while in Scarsdale or Chappaqua they’re still working to diversify their selections, brown kids in urban settings read almost entirely about minorities.  Doesn’t this type of “framing” our exposure to the literary experience limit a child’s thinking?  Doesn’t this perpetuate our mis-understanding of American identity? 

            It’s worthy to briefly mention here another term used called identity literature.  Perhaps this term has greater merit because it stems from Erikson’s definition of identity which is: making sense of and finding one’s place in an almost limitless world.[1]  Still, identity literature tends to segregate between “identity status literature” for whites and “ethnic identity literature” for non-whites.  Again, we have to be very careful with how we use language and labels—especially when it comes to education as a liberatory practice and literature.  We want both to be expansive and creative endeavors.  Schwatz talks at great length about how our understanding of identity and “identity literature” is limited because research hasn’t yet sufficiently crossed over race, class and levels of educational attainment.

            In contemporary US culture, young children are not only oriented by their own multiple cultures (racial, ethnic, age, gender and family, to name several), but also by living and learning within a socio-culturally conditioned world filled with many different conditions of cultural difference.[2] The contemporary child experiences early exposure to multiethnic perspectives and are often more adept at negotiating multiple perspectives and realities then they are given credit for.  In this way, traditional labels and schooling practices can “box” children into traditional groupings that no longer suit the needs of the contemporary child.  What new literature speaks to the contemporary students’ multidirectional, multidimensional, multilingual and multiethnic experience and how can we build upon it towards non-linear forms of critical thinking and subsequent agency in a global community?[3]

            Patricia Dunn, author of Rebels by Accident, wrote a young adult novel about an Arab-American teenager who is forced to travel to Cairo during the first days of the Egyptian uprising (to be released this summer, Alikai Press). Patricia is not Arab-American.  Seventeen years ago, Patricia converted to Islam, married an Egyptian and although she is currently divorced, finds herself raising an Arab-American Muslim son in Westchester county.  Interesting!  Patricia Dunn’s personal life reflects our contemporary, cross-cultural American experience in which we negotiate multiethnic perspectives and realities openly, critically and with compassion.  In this space, Patricia like many contemporary writers & educators (raising multi-ethnic, multilingual offspring), daringly steps out of the box and into another person’s shoes.  Boldly and willingly through writing we can share our multidimensional nature and through this experience redefine our understanding of identity.  Patricia offers us Rebels by Accident, the story of Mariam (an Arab-American, Muslim teenage girl) who is on an adventurous yet emotional exploration of self in a time when teenagers globally are using social media and other expansive tools to step out the box and challenge stereotypical labels that persist on the inside and on the outside of oneself:  What does it mean to be a Muslim woman?  If “Jihad” means personal responsibility and doing what is right and just—then why does the media spin it as act of terrorism and war?  “Rebels” which I now fondly call Pat’s book, explores themes such as individual vs. collective identity, acculturation, political agency and the fierce, passionate intersection of all these things—especially for Arab Americans post 911—who are emotionally & spiritually tossed between two worlds, all of this through the eyes of a US born Mariam, set in the US and Egypt.

            It doesn’t surprise me that when talking to Pat who struggled for six years to get this story published (see Pat’s website to read more about this…) I learn that she writes for her son.  “I just really wanted to write a story that would make Ali proud,” she said.  “I also guess I was tired of seeing Muslim girls always being depicted in literature as being victims or saved by the West.”  Patricia, of Italian & Irish heritage, who was born and raised in the Bronx (yes, another Bronx girl!) grew up surrounded by first generation Italians who spoke and breathed Italian and looked at Patricia as the outsider, the “American.”  “Hearing a language other than English was always a part of my experience so when later I traveled in the Middle East, being immersed in Arabic was not so strange.”  If you get a chance to read Rebels by Accident, and I recommend this book for teachers who wish to engage in critical discussions about social justice and identity (upper middle/HS grades), you will see how Patricia skillfully uses the Arabic language and phrases, so that the reader understands the importance of language as an expression of culture. 

             “Ultimately, it’s a human story,” Pat says, “A teenager whose top priority is to fit in.  Mariam grows in the story, not wanting to be an outsider, doubtful of the beauty of her own heritage… Her best friend Deanna who has a facial disorder (she can’t smile) also is an outsider and together they learn that through connecting with something greater than themselves, they find self-acceptance and belonging.”

            Literature gives shape to all values that guide our way of viewing the world.  Early contact that children have with literature may be a great step in their education towards diversity and to an integration of diversity in the building up of their identity.[4] Following the rise of radical Islamic terrorists and 9/11, Arab Americans and Arab immigrants have often been the target of discrimination, as many Americans associate Islam with terrorism (McMurtie et al., 2001; Wingfield & Karaman, 1995).[5] Cross-cultural, multi-lingual, authentically “American” literature that meshes more than one culture, more than one language and even crosses borders has the power to build greater understanding  and inclusiveness around  the American diaspora.   Most of us no longer reside in just one box.  At the heart of agency is not only the bold declaration of a love for one’s unique self, but it’s having the courage to walk in someone else’s moccasins for mutual liberation, social justice and a relentless desire for global community.

           

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[1] Schwartz, S. (2005) A new identity for identity research: Recommendations for expanding and refocusing identity literature, Journal of Adolescent Research 20 (3)

[2] Hyun, E. (2007). Cultural complexity in early childhood: Images of contemporary young children from a critical perspective, Childhood Education, 83(5) Research Library, pg. 261

[3] Ibid.

[4] Da Natividade Pires, M (2011). Building identity and understanding diversity—Children’s literature and traditional literature potential in the school curriculum.

[5] Craft Al-Hazza, T. & Bucher, K (2010) Bridging a cultural divide with literature about Arabs and Arab Americans, Middle School Journal

Standing Outside the Golden Gate: Thoughts on Social Media & Alternative Pathways w/ Esther Armah

Are we trying to get inside or are we creating new spaces?

       

             

              Years ago living in Madrid, my husband and I were on one of our long walks, circling back from el casco antiguo nearing La Plaza del Sol, now the central meeting place for Spain’s  Indignados. We were talking passionately about politics, which was (and still is) very common for us.  This was way before there was an Occupy movement and discussions about class warfare or how schools should be run was on everybody’s tongue.  This was before (and I’m talking just twenty years ago) social media took center stage spreading information across borders like forest fires.  It was that day in Madrid when I regrettably attacked my husband because he defended the elite.

            “¡Élite, élite, élite!” I chanted while I pointed my finger at his chest. 

            A guttural sound escaped his lips, it was a chuckle I thought, but then he snapped, “The only reason you’re so angry is because you’re still standing outside the golden gate, little lady.”   

            “What?” I spun, really listening.        

            His head tilted back with the full force and grit of a hard, working-class Andalucian man. “And believe you me,” he added, “As soon you finish your degree, get a good job, become a professor in the mainstream— you’ll be very happy to reap the benefits that come with the so called upper class...because that’s how it works.” 

            That was—what did I say—twenty years ago? Funny.  Life is very, very funny.  Look at me now, still standing outside the golden gate.  But at the age of 41, I’m not kicking or screaming but rather shifting my weight from left to right hoping to keep the circulation going.   

            Why does this conversation ring in my ears like a recurring dream?  It’s because I’m toiling with the role of voice and agency in life, the purpose behind all things—like why I write, why I profess to be an educator even when I’m not teaching.  And I’m not unlike many others who have walked under the banner of OWS—those of us who have not reaped the promised benefits of hard work and a degree.  Millions are still locked outside the golden gates of the American dream.[1]

            But, I’m sort of in a new place right now.  I’m talking to you not from Tahrir Square, Plaza del Sol or Zucotti Park but from Cyber Space!—and I find myself thinking a whole lot about the power of social media and what has it changed really.  Why, Obama’s win into office was touted as a social media campaign and the Arab Spring was ignited in a similar vain—so, I want to know this:  Is social media really an alternative pathway into the golden gates or is it our way of creating a whole new space? 

            As a critical educator and writer, I am acutely aware of how we are “positioned” by the dominant discourses and practices surrounding race, class, gender, religion, language and sexual orientation.  The goal of critical pedagogy has always been about resistance, emancipation or reclaiming power by creating new spaces for dialogue.[2]  And clearly social media has shown us how participation and voice can be expanded beyond our dreams, yet I wonder if social media is just a false sense of agency, that mainstream media still monopolizes the distribution of voice, choosing some over others and that information circulating via blogs, Facebook or Twitter are still subject to the filter of celebrity and popularity.  On the one hand, social media is the cornerstone for social change.  On the other, it is a tool to reflect (and even perpetuate) current power-relations in society.  What are the critical, creative and cultural functions of social media in society?[3]  How can we develop the liberatory nature of social media as a unifying voice?

            Fortunately, I got a chance to connect with Esther Armah last week.  Many of you know, Esther is an upcoming voice in the media and she’s a writer.  Directly or indirectly, Esther’s voice is being heard, broadcast live and tweeted, impacting people internationally.  When doing a little reading about Esther, I discovered her early book called Can I Be Me? The book’s online blurb describes Esther as “addicted to the need for approval, the desire for applause, bright lights and struggle. She’s on a quest, it says, hungry for a place of belonging, a place of comfort and acceptance of her identity; black, British, Ghanaian and Afrocentric.”  Then it ends with the question, “Who would you be if there was no applause, disappointment, injustice, discrimination or rejection?”

            When I read this, I love Esther’s spirit.   I don’t have to read the book to know that this woman is willing to share human vulnerability, that she demonstrates courage and resolve when she writes about her personal journey.  I can breathe life into these few words, Esther’s life filled with intention and purpose, to connect with the universal, to find compassion for her own identity, to search for meaning  and belonging.  All of these things are the ultimate expression of agency and voice.

            So, I reach out to Esther Armah asking myself this question— Where is Esther standing?   Is she standing outside the golden gate or is she planted firmly on the inside?  I’m curious and want to explore my questions about social media from where she’s standing, through her light.  I want to know more about how we can use social media as an alternative pathway to transcend our differences and create a new space. 

            I first ask Esther to comment about her experience from the point of view of a radio personality.  I ask her, which voices do we value in society and how do we validate them?  She says, “We are in a moment where what passes as celebrity are the voices we most value.  Look at the Occupy movement, for example,” she says, “they were mostly ignored - certainly by mainstream media—until the arrival of 'celebrity' voices like Michael Moore, actress Susan Sarandon, public intellectual Dr. Cornel West.  It is a fact that mainstream media is a voice we value certainly over independent media.  The celebrity voice has become this aspirational space because it means having presence, being seen, being heard. It means attention. The reality TV celebrity, for example, that group of mostly women who act crazy, are violent, hurtful and hateful towards other women, yet they are rewarded with small screen action, a check, 15 minutes of fame and access to more opportunity. That lens, the celebrity lens, creates aspirations for some of our youth that are problematic. It means intimate partner violence is not a national issue unless pop star Rihanna faces what teen girls deal with every day. We privilege the voices and opinions of celebrity over everyday people. It now takes a national outrage to get due process in the naked cancerous reality of racism.” 

            When I reflect upon her words, I wonder if Esther is yet a celebrity.  When does one officially become a celebrity?  If she is, then where does that place her?  Can someone like Esther reside in more than one dimension— outside the gate, inside the gate, transcending the gates by actively creating a new space?  In a world where we’re often forced to choose sides— right wing, left wing, black, white, public or private— is it possible for us to define a new universal belonging that exceeds these boundaries?  Is it possible to see the world (and behave within it) organically, holistically and all-encompassing rather than fragmented, polarized, in constant opposition, agitation and indignant-cy? 

            I ask Esther explicitly about youth and creating new space.  That’s when she introduces me to the term emotional justice.  “Emotional justice means dealing with, addressing, challenging the legacy of untreated trauma that is the direct result of our shared global histories,” she says.  “Emotional justice is the difference between acting crazy for a reality TV bit versus the articulation of righteous rage in pursuit of justice. In our activist circles we can be hypocritical about how much we value celebrity.  There are activist stars as with all other types of celebrity.  Our youth sees this hypocrisy and since nobody aspires to failure, the definition of success has been understood as being in the light, standing on a stage, having the mic and so we hear them articulate that aspiration for themselves too.  I'm not mad at young people but I think the call is for us to be more willing to be honest.”

            Honesty?  Esther is bringing up a critical point about social media as a tool to create new space.  Can social media be used to engender honesty?  Some of the common obstacles educators (and parents) face when teaching responsible conscientious use of social media is sensitivity, honesty, establishing ethical codes of behavior and respect for personal and individual rights…like privacy.  In a study of media literacy education in Turkey, participants stated that they did not trust media completely because the media generally presents distorted and exaggerated “truth,” and mixes real and constructed messages together.[4] But does social media, this new discourse in which diverse participants come together in order to collectively “reconstruct” our understanding of the world around us—give us a better sense of truth?  Or does social media create a false sense of honesty, as Facebook might be seen as creating a false sense of community? 

             “If we want to prepare our youth,” Esther says, “we need to face how unprepared we are ourselves. We need to be more willing to own our disappointment, anger, frustration with the world—including with the world of activism and the toll it takes on us and our place within it. The truth is, voices that matter don't always get heard—- therefore the work is to make those voices get heard.”

            But how do we prepare young people to engage in social media with a conscious?  How can we help them negotiate this terrain?  Will these voices have a real impact on society?

            Esther throws a few questions back at me.  She asks, “I would ask you to define what is important, ask yourself what you consider the important issues of today.  We validate voices by using our personal power to highlight other people’s words—with the explosion of social media - we can tweet them, re-tweet them, include them on our Facebook status updates, blog about them, text about them.  With the millions in that space we can create a lens for those voices.   Social media is a great and powerful avenue and we just need to decide how we want to use it.  We need to be merciless in our pursuit of what we choose as our agenda. I've been in sister circles using social media to direct conversation, to shine a lens, to make a change, to advocate and it’s personally powerful. The question is always this— what is the change we want to see and what are we willing to do about making that our reality?”

            Bingo.  This brings me back to that moment with Michael Moore at the Beginning is Near event this month, remember?  When we asked him what people can do to make a difference, he told us the very unglamorous story of his humble beginnings as a comic and semi-trouble maker in Flint Michigan.  I remember his humility and simplicity telling his story, sprawled back on the chair in jeans and a pair of sneakers.  I thought then, Michael Moore is just like me— a nobody and a somebody at the same time.  I was able for an instant to look at Michael not through linear time or as a celebrity but as a multi-dimensional human being.  Rich and poor, a comic and a politician, young and old, smart and learning, receiving and giving —a nobody and a somebody simultaneously.  

             As I think critically about our use of social media as a society, I think about whether we’re all trying to get inside the golden gates.  Or are we bonding with others like ourselves on the outside?  Or if neither exists in cyber space, that we’re really creating a new space that transcends our earthly domains?  Social media has something to teach us all, perhaps.  This alternative pathway, this wonderful “free” and often revolutionary community.  How can we use it to raise consciousness, validate each other and prepare the road for even greater transcendence? 

            Implicit in what I call a transcensory approach to education is that humans are at a critical point in evolution.  We do have the power to exist above and independent of our bodies and the material plane.   As our personal and communal development expands into new territory (like that which we are experiencing through social media), we learn to become critical agents in our lives.  We learn to honor the call— to be honest, to transcend our individual differences, promote healing and most importantly build community.     

            How are we to teach voice and agency in the age of social media?   Start with you. Each individual must find their personal inspiration—there feel the pull of empowerment.  Your voice emanates, spread light into others, especially for the sake of our children whose lights are shining so brightly.  Like Dr. Cornel West says, education ought to be about creating a space for young people to attend to things that matter.  What matters is what is taking place outside of school, the life that transcends the walls of the school—it is our universal human experience.     Understanding the transcensory nature of social media repositions all of us inside the golden gates…or better yet—it pulls all of us up…up…up and over.

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[1] Nearly one in two Americans are now living in or near poverty, including millions of middle class Americans who find themselves caught up in the economic “tragedy” they never imagined could happen to them. (Smiley & West, The Rich and the Rest of Us: A Poverty Manifesto, 2012)

[2] Burnett & Merchant (2011) Is there space for critical literacy in the context of social media? English Teaching: Practice & Critique, 10(1)

[3] Burn & Durran (2007) Media literacy in schools: practice, production, and progression. London: Paul Chapman

[4] Elma, Kesten, Dicle & Uzun (2010) Media literacy education in Turkey: An evaluation of media processes and ethical codes. Educational Sciences: Theory & Practice 10 (3).

The Beginning is Near but the Perennial Oreo Cookie Stays

On the Conversation with Cornel West, Michael Moore & Esther Armah

            The Beginning is Near conversation with Cornel West and Michael Moore presented by the Brecht Forum at Hunter College Friday night, really should’ve included more of Esther Armah’s voice.  Although simply the moderator who for the most part sat silently poised between the two entertaining men (each for very different reasons obviously)—Esther Armah, a tall and rather glamorous woman clearly had much to say.   The WBAI radio host, international journalist and playwright (Esther wrote Saviour? the play that tackled the difficult topic of white privilege, produced by Voza Rivers at the Dwyer Cultural Center last year) is not only a brilliant conversationalist but she certainly has the courage to push through complex, hot button topics with prominent public figures, like white rage & privilege, both pretty controversial in the Obama era of politics.  Thanks to Esther, those of us in the audience got the honor of watching Michael Moore squirm as he slowly arrived at his own understanding—an “epiphany” of sorts— of what it means to be a white male in America.  It was equally captivating to observe Cornel West zigzag over the subject and return to a more comfortable mode of race talk which examines (and often criticizes) people of color for having “sold out,” or having forgotten their moral (and racial) obligation to fix things. 

            Why are discussions of white privilege so hot tempered and even more so in the age of Obama politics? Is it because Obama is really half white and half black, but touted (and self-identified) as the first black president?  Or is it because it’s about shifting our focus from the victims to those who have benefitted from racism & white supremacist policies?  According to Francis Kendall, diversity consultant and author of Understanding White Privilege (2006), whites have created and sustained a pathological system in which their positive sense of self is based on the negative sense of someone else.  Therefore, says Kendall, it’s important that whites take responsibility to understand their individual and collective role in maintaining a system of white superiority.  That is the first thing.  Then, there’s linking this responsibly to individual and institutional practice and policy.  It’s asking whites to fix it.  This is new territory for many and often dismissed as left wing rubbish.  In a recent online dialogue I participated in on the retention of people of color in the work place, I was slammed when I brought up white privilege.  I was told (by a white, male diversity professional) that white privilege has nothing to do with retention issues, that a conversation about white privilege makes people of color feel unwelcomed and would be interpreted in an organization as “trying to make white people feel guilty.”  No wonder discussions of race focus solely on the effects on those who are oppressed and not on the oppressors or beneficiaries, almost as if they don’t even exist.

            Back to the 68th street assembly hall.  Overall the conversation with Cornel West and Michael Moore was a stimulating voyage into the minds and worlds of two distinct gentlemen, each coming from completely different backgrounds, opposite in every way; from physical appearance to personality to political strategy—and yet, the juxtaposition of them both on stage personifies the juxtaposition of themes that continue to stir the debate—a debate that we “liberals” like to call “Occupy Wall Street.”  While I personally harbor conflicting opinions about the Occupy movement, I do credit it for giving us a popular all-encompassing name, a hashtag if you will, or better yet—a unifying platform from which so many can coalesce and coexist.  And that was the point, I gather of bringing Cornel West and Michael Moore together for the evening.  We need a unifying platform in spite our diversity.

            Let me give you a metaphor: Clink, clink, clink, draaaag, clink, clink, clink.  It’s the sound of a fork hitting against the sides of a ceramic bowl as eggs are being whisked, tiny bubbles begin to froth at the sides, each flick of the wrist causes some spillage then a pour and sizzle…followed by a flip.  The conversation was fantastically organically scrambled, multiple messages trying to blend, quick, inevitable, hits and misses, ending in an imperfect mound of yellow which ultimately became the centerpiece for a delicious and hearty breakfast.  What a better way to  mark the “beginning” of a new day?

            Spillage. Like Michael Moore’s rage directed at Obama.  Moore’s generally mellow voice reverberated throughout the assembly hall as he screamed into the mic, “What part of the equation didn’t Obama understand?”  He was referring to the fact that Obama’s bi-partisanship agenda has backlashed and consequently pissed off millions of voters who got him into office, many who would have then identified themselves as leftist.  (I wonder what they would call themselves today.)  “I want the black Obama not the white Obama in the White House,” Moore yelled.  If my memory serves me correctly, this was even before Esther brought up the topic of race, and maybe it was Moore’s comments that compelled her to do so, but either way I couldn’t help wince when Michael bashed Obama politics and deployed the old “oreo cookie” metaphor—black on the outside, white on the inside.  That is— if he were really black, he would be an honest liberal, or in the very least a true democrat.  Are blacks born into a political party or as Moore reiterated later in the conversation—are blacks intrinsically more conscientious and more likely to stand up for human & civil rights?  Is the white half of Obama pulling him down?  Really?  What is it about our perception of race that skews our expectations of people and their moral obligation in society?  Do we expect more of Obama’s presidency because he’s black when in a different arena, say the classroom or the boardroom, we expect less because of the same profiling? 

            Although Dr. West has been criticized for his disdain for Obama’s centrist politics which he similarly links to Obama’s “fear of free black men” due to his “white cultural formation,” he did end up responding diplomatically to Moore by explaining that blacks have historically been at the forefront of revolutionary politics because of their history of oppression, that any person or group continuously oppressed will inevitably react accordingly.  Unless… unless they are victims of the “dumb down culture,” aka “weapons of mass distraction.”  Many black folks, just like many Jews, according to Dr. West—have forgotten their suffering.  They no longer remember history, are “up for sale,” and very unlikely to challenge the status quo.  “Our young people no longer have a sense of three dimensional time, past-present-future,” West said and then added, “We must remember those who suffered so that their afterlife is at work.”  Cornel West who is now in New York teaching at the Union Theological Seminary in Harlem and touring with Tavis Smiley to increase awareness on poverty, leaned over into the audience and said in his feast of poetic rap-rhythm, “It’s about having compassion for those who’ve been crushed but not destroyed.”

            Did it feel like we were talking about many different issues at once?  Yes, absolutely.  But it’s not surprising since any real conversation about the current state of affairs, the role of capitalism in our country, the Occupy movement and the corporatization of our democracy— will unleash this volcanic lava, pressured and sometimes sealed, but ultimately ready to explode at any given moment.  It is inevitable as we are now witnessing the culmination or “the beginning,” if you will, of civic discourse rooted in the great intersection of identity politics: race, class, gender, sexual orientation, religion— to name a few.  And I haven’t even mentioned how this convulsion of variables is systematically twisted, dismembered and reassembled in today’s media.  Neither have I discussed the role of education in the mix, because just as Cornel West said—what about the youth?  Out of what appeared to be an overwhelming response from the audience handing in questions on small index cards (there must have been at least a hundred questions!) the topic of education, the privatization of schools and the systematic slashing of arts & critical thinking programs were at the top of the list.  

            But, I will save that discussion for next week.  Until then, I leave you all with a few questions:  Who are the dominant voices in the pundit community that shape how we understand the issues surrounding race, politics and education? What does it say about which voices we value as a society?  How do we validate them?  And finally, how can we prepare youth in our schools to enter the conversation, navigate this flailing public discourse to have an impact on these important issues?

____________

“We do it with the old perennial reality of love.”

                                                                        ~Cornel West

Ode to David Gruenwald: On Resistance, Reinhabitation & Regime Change

When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer
    By Walt Whitman

When I heard the learn'd astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.

    
            Salman Rushdie’s short but poignant speech at the Pen American Center’s Arthur Miller’s Freedom to Write Lecture reminds me of the intersection between art and education, or at least reminds me of the old education that I once loved.  It was the education as a practice of liberation.  Education as an act of reinvention.  Education as enlightenment.  Oh, how do I miss thee!  But is this education still reserved for some?

            Rushdie speaks about the power of censorship.  He refers to the artist’s stubborn dismissal of such topics—because what artist wants to anchor themselves to a conversation about the antithesis to art?  Yet, we must.  We must have the conversation if we are to resist any and all efforts to limit our capacity as artist educators to transcend.  Voila!  I’ve just invented a new terminology: artist educator.  Or has this always been in existence?

            Here is a quote that reminds me of the significance of Salman Rushdie in my life,  like when I read Midnights Children.

Originality is dangerous. If you want to increase the sum of what is possible for human beings; to say, to know, to understand and therefore, to be—you have to go to the edge and push outwards. 

            Censorship.  I’ve been feeling the heavy weight of my writing for years.  Yes, I’ve been told to quit blogging— it’s hurting your pocket, don’t you know?  I’ve tried to stop and then I can’t.  Why must I stop writing about my struggle to transcend this miserable time and place and the covert and not so covert hijacking of my beloved field of education?  But, there is a real and tangible force that makes resistance in today’s climate difficult.  Rushdie talks about freedom to write like free air.  Then he adds, “free unless you’re an African American male wearing a hoodie.”  Free, he says, unless you are… and then I blank out for a moment hearing nothing.  I am thinking to myself—free unless you are me. 

            What is this illusion of freedom, the art of education for freedom, that is often espoused by “free” men and women and not dared to be truly uttered (and acted upon) by the most vulnerable members of our communities?

             I remember the words of a former comrade, Joseph Skinner, teacher and former union rep, as he scoffed at the round table dialogue I held at The Gordon Center, Institute for Urban & Minority Education in 2009.  We were talking about how we can bring together people of different races and classes for change in education policy and practice.  He said— who can afford to be an activist these days? Who has the time to sit around and “contemplate” the green movement, for example?

            There are so many ways we censor our freedom to write, to breathe, to educate.

            Definitions of critical thinking vary, but it’s generally considered to entail a doubting attitude and an ability to scrutinize ideas and assumptions through reasoned argument.  According to Lipman (1991), critical thinking is crucial to the survival of a rational, democratic society.[1] While critical thinking skills are listed in the Common Core Standards, I ask: Are teachers likely to encourage critical thinking and its counterpart, freedom of expression in the current climate of examination, standardization and value added teacher evaluation? Probably not.  Testing companies are given a list of “controversial” words that should not be included, multicultural programs rooted in Freire’s theory of emancipation are being slaughtered, teachers and administrators are being recruited from the business sector, veteran schools are being pushed out by virgin charters, kindergarten students are asked to evaluate teachers, the list goes on. 

            And what about the resistance?  Although resistance is a typical, even expected response to [this sort of] domination, it is also a privilege to have the economic and social capital needed, and the distance from suffering required, to be able to reflect in relative comfort on the world’s problems, to be an interpreter of major crisis instead of a victim.[2]
            My fourteen year old son, like Walt Whitman, rises up and wanders off by himself.  His grades have dropped dramatically and when I approach him about it he says, what do you expect when there's no time to breathe?  At my son's school, he is tested on the average 2-3 times a week, not including the barrage of state exams and upcoming Regents.  I watch his spirit walk out on the system every day and I'm exhausted and depressed, a hypocrite for begging him to stay.  I can't afford to change schools right now and I think about Katniss and the Hunger Games, how she thought about running away.  Who will stay and fight for the rest of us?  I ask myself, but are you really fighting?  I've been warned recently.  Careful.  You'll just be another soldier down.
          What do you have to do to become a philosopher, mommy?  My nine year old daughter asks me the other day.  I stop and think.  What does one have to do to become a philosopher?  I'll have to get back to you on that, I say.  Then, when I'm alone in my room at night, thinking and frowning myself into a migraine--I decide I won't dare clip my daughter's wings.  But I'm not sure what that really means or how.
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[1] McCrae, N. (2011) Nurturing critical thinking and academic freedom in the 21^st century university. International Journal of Teaching & Learning in Higher Education, 23(1)

[2] Gruenwald, D. (2006) Resistance, Reinhabitation and Regime Change, Journal of Research in Rural Education, 21 (9)