A word on White anti-racism & bravery

Last week I wrote about color blindness—something that comes up in a lot of the Q&As after I read from my book, freshly out in paperback, Learning in Public. This week I want to tackle another thing that I hear a lot from folks in various audiences (interestingly, often from older White men)…

You are so brave.

First and foremost, let me say this: there is nothing brave about dropping my daughters off at Emerson Elementary School, a Black-majority, Title I school, everyday. In fact, it’s a massive relief. I watch them run through those gates, giant backpacks bobbing along, and know they are entering a loving community (and I can get on with my work in the world, which often feels far easier than parenting). Ms. Sandra from the front office will call me if Stella throws up in the bathroom (or says she did?!) and Ms. Aviles taught her the word perseverance. Ms. Dexter taught Maya how to blow a chef’s kiss and the five oceans and seven continents this week and Ms. Mikayla has welcomed her onto the cheerleading team even though her cartwheel is wobbly. And the other kids! Oh my, they are entertaining and loving and sometimes mean and total weirdos, like all kids. Our dinner conversations this week have been lit with all the drama!

Stella’s official self-portrait. I mean, come on.

The only way it is brave to send my kids to this school is if it is brave to send any kids to any schools—White, Black, Brown, rich, poor, private, public. And sure, there is something scary for parents in letting go. As my friend Sandy once explained to me, schools, and more specifically the educators that populate them, are the first people we really give our kids’ over to, lose control of what they hear, learn, experience, eat etc. Okay, that’s something to be brave about, I suppose. But it is no more brave for a White parent like me to do that in a Black school than it is do that in any other kind of school.

And while we’re talking about parental bravery—have these audience members considered that when Black and Brown parents send their kids to majority-White schools, there is so much to be rationally worried about? Teacher bias is well-documented, micro-aggressions here, there, and everywhere, racialized discipline etc. etc. Some of us treat going to White schools as a great honor and opportunity for Black and Brown kids, when in fact, it can be a very complex experience—physically, psychologically, and pedagogically.

As my conversation partner and Black teacher in a Black school, Alicia Simba, put it:

These things that White people are being called in to do can be hard…and it’s not as hard as Black people having to deal with the repercussion of what happens when White people don’t do the difficult things.

Amen to that. Here’s where I agree with these audience members:

It is brave to do something that your friends aren’t doing. Anytime I watch someone do some really fresh, ethical thinking about a choice that the rest of us are taking for granted, I’m very moved—whether that’s living and raising kids collectively in some counter-cultural way, or spending your money with some sort of intention that mirrors your values, or negotiating a work life that doesn’t reflect the norm. I love it! I learn so much from it! And I know it’s not easy for the person who breaks away from the crowd, especially if their choice causes tension within their friendships. That’s been hard for me at various times and on various levels, and I’m proud of myself for trying to weather those with compassion and courage.

It is brave that I wrote a book about school choice, White parents, and racism, a very personal book at that, in a charged media climate, where it feels like we are still figuring out what to do with folks like me. Alicia put it this way:

It’s sort of a double bind, isn’t it? We’re asking White people to take on responsibility for organizing and educating other White people, and talking about racism, but when you do it, you’re at risk of being criticized for being performative, annoying, or getting it wrong.

The question of how White people can take on racism in a way that is useful, accountable, and public is a complex one that I think a lot of us are living into. I appreciated Alicia’s articulation of it. I do believe that White people need other White people to help model a different way of living so they can see “Ah, people like me do things like this.” (Send their kids to the neighborhood public school, admit when they have no idea if a school is “good” or “bad” because they’ve never experienced it first-hand, ask questions during meetings about money, power, race, gender that make people uncomfortable etc.)

As Roanne Lee, an Asian American reader, wrote in an email exchange we had about the audience reactions: “It’s courageous, as a White person, to put yourself out there and share how you’ve navigated complex and sensitive situations - and we need more guides like this for a niche audience that reads The Atlantic (rather than Fox News). But just because a White person does it isn’t news, nor should it be overly deified.” 

YES.

Then Roanne wisely asked: “How do we make it a relatable and cultural norm vs. something only the bravest of us can do?” 

My hunch is that the only way we move White people taking anti-racist action from brave or noble or heroic—in the eyes of dominant culture—to normal, is by doing it and doing it and doing it and sometimes talking about it in public (hopefully in a searching, clear, humble, joyful way) and doing it and doing it some more. Not really a very snazzy idea, but that’s my hunch. The more people we get doing it and sometimes talking about it, but mostly just doing it, the less older White dudes would have grounds for telling me I was brave because they’d know ten other White parents just like me.

(And by the way, there are ten x ten x ten other parents “like me.” Check out Integrated Schools.)