InterActions Volume 16 Issue 2

COVER ART BY: MARIO MILLER JR

SPECIAL ISSUE Â / SPRING 2020

Table of Contents

Introduction: When the Magic Happens. Critical Race Storytelling Thandeka Chapman ……………………………………………………………………………………3

Hypervisibility and Disciplining the Brown Mujer Body in School: A Counternarrative of MotherDaughter-Sister Pedagogies for Survival and Resistance Brianna Ramirez ………………………………………………………………………………………...12

Leaving La Puente: A Critical Race Counterstory of Rural Chicana/Latina College Choice Mayra Puente …………………………………………………………………………………………..25

Seen Without (in)Sight James Crawford ………………………………………………………………………………………...45

What He Learned to Think He Earned Andrew Matschiner …………………………………………………………………………………….57

A Latina Pursuing Her Medical Dream (MD) Katherine Arias Garcia …………………………………………………………………………………69

The Price We Pay Zaynab Gates …………………………………………………………………………………………...82

Pop: A Critical Race Story of Racialized Violence in America Kirk D. Rogers Jr. ………………………………………………………………………………………96

The Daily Dose: The End to Social Inequity Ramon Stephens ……………………………………………………………………………………..113 Conclusion: Collective Reflections on Critical Storytelling for Racial and Social Justice Ramirez, Puente, Crawford, Matschiner, Garcia, Gates, Rogers Jr., and Stephens ………..…135

-The Artist Behind the Cover and Artwork:

Mario Miller Jr. is an up and coming young artist working out of Atlanta, GA. His expertise includes illustration, woodworking, and furniture refurbishing. At only 21 years old, Mario has been honing his craft for years. His inspiration for his work draws from the subconscious mind, which is why his style can vary from piece to piece. He particularly enjoys creating, whether it be carpentry or illustration, and is always looking for his next challenge. He is looking to move into working with oil paints next. Mario is continuing his education this year and hopes to obtain a degree in Art Education, while he continues to build on his repertoire of skills. Follow him at @mariodoesart on Instagram and Facebook for more of his work.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title Introduction: When the Magic Happens. Critical Race Storytelling

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/8v36956m

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Chapman, Thandeka K

Publication Date 2020 Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

Introduction: When the Magic Happens. Critical Race Storytelling The following articles originated as a class assignment in my Introduction to Critical Race Theory course. The students and I quickly realized the powerful depictions of race/ethnicity, gender, and class that they created with their counter storytelling.

When putting my sister off the phone before teaching class, I tell her, “It’s time to make the magic happen!” I believe magic, in the sense that my students and I develop deeper understandings of systems of oppression and the faces at the bottom of the well (Bell, 1992), happens every time I teach a class. But in this particular class, with the authors in this special issue, this assignment was extremely impactful and meaningful for all of us. In these articles, the authors tell stories and counterstories about subtle and overt instantiations of race and racism in K-16 educational settings and communities of color, and the forms of resistance and resilience generated by students and families to withstand forces of oppression. The authors also use their stories to explain disparate education outcomes in communities of color, the crafting of white supremacy, and how past and current education outcomes have little to do with students’ academic abilities or intellectual merits. Last, the counterstories presented in this issue highlight community, family, personal strength, hope, joy, and love in ways that rarely appear in academic spaces. These stories, and being in service to our communities by putting these words in academic spaces, are so important that we need to share them—“our magic”—with a larger audience.

Critical Race Theory Critical Race Theory is often considered an analytic tool that maintains the integrity of the research question and the researcher’s perspective on the data. Critical Race Theory guides the methodology, the research methods, and the analysis. Race-based theories place the focus on race and racial oppression and privilege and how events, people’s perceptions, and institutions facilitate or oppose social (in)justice. Critical Race Theory is employed to interrogate past and present

manifestations of racism that continue to impact the future trajectories of individuals and communities.

Critical race theorists contend that the researcher is a vehicle for the research; she/he/them is someone who shares similar experiences with the research participants and who is personally invested in the communities attempting to obtain equity and justice in education. Ladson-Billings (2000) states: CRT asks the critical qualitative research to operate in a selfrevelatory mode, to acknowledge the double (or multiple) consciousness in which he or she is operating. My decision to deploy a critical race theoretical framework in my scholarship is intimately linked to my understanding of the political and personal stake I have in the education of black children. (p. 273)

Critical Race Theory embraces researchers’ epistemologies and personal investments in racial justice and experiences with race and racism.

These epistemological and ontological understandings are unapologicatically woven into the researcher’s CRT project. Moreover, as an “academic voice” who divulges and explains people’s lived experiences, the researcher, becomes a significant messaging tool of the research project.

Critical Race Theory and Counterstory Research creates counterstories to elucidate how people’s perceptions, stratified choices, and forms of agency are influenced by historic and present-day manifestations of race and racism. These counterstories reflect people’s cultural ways of knowing and behaving within ongoing contexts of settler colonialism, racist policies, and socially and economically marginalizing societal practices.

Counterstories provide the rationales behind how people make certain choices and live through particular circumstances. Counterstories reframe deficit narratives about communities of color and redirect conversations about access and equity in education towards an analysis of institutional and structural racism.

Ladson-Billings (2013) explains: Despite what story is presented to the public, the “counterstory” is a contrasting story that describes the story from a different vantage point. The ability to tell that story is important

not just as a defense strategy but also as a way to unmoor people from received truths so that they might consider alternatives. (p. 42)

By offering alternative stories, counterstories explain how the educational experiences of students of color are shaped by ongoing legacies of race and racism, which maintain economic and societal barriers and invoke student, family, and community resilience and resistance.

Using counterstories, scholars illustrate the complexities inherent in negotiating schools and programs that remain rigid and uninviting to students of color and their families. Solorzano and Yosso (2001) explain the multiple functions of counterstories: These counterstories can serve at least four theoretical, methodological, and pedagogical functions: (1) they can build community among those at the margins of society by putting a human and familiar face to educational theory and practice; (2) they can challenge the perceived wisdom of those at society’s center by providing a context to understand and transform established beliefs; (3) they can open new windows into the reality of those at the margins of society by showing the possibilities beyond the ones they live and demonstrating that they are not alone in their position; and (4) they can teach others that by combining elements from both the story and the current reality, one can construct another world that is richer than either the story or the reality alone. (p. 475)

In this class, the students used their professional and personal experiences, supported by existing research on specific topics of their choice, to write their counterstories. As the students read each other’s papers we engaged in the four functions of counterstories and created a powerful moment of connectedness and understanding among the group that remains with all of us and resulted in this publication.

Challenges to Teaching Critical Race Theory At times, I have thought that such a powerful moment of engagement was a stroke of luck or hailed from a specific set of students, but that idea diminishes the conscious efforts that I, as a critical race scholar, invest in teaching this course and

cultivating “magic.� As a professor, I attempt to represent race as a living entity that shifts and evolves over time and circumstance, is institutionally and individually located, and includes common histories of persecution and subjugation.

Critical Race Theory is a vehicle to convey the complexities of oppression and marginalization, survivial and strength, and love and support in the lived experiences of people of color.

Instructors enter into teaching CRT in education with significant thought and consideration towards the students in their classroom, and the communities that those students hope to serve with their research and scholarship.

Teaching CRT requires modeling sensitivity and empathy towards others, cultivating both breadth and depth in research and scholarship, and facilitating a safe space for students to build community with me.

Building Community As a critical race scholar, I try to build a classroom community that allows students to take risks and be vulnerable with each other, despite the competitive nature of graduate programs. I design an environment where ignorance can be voiced without negative judgments and students can ask for help.

To firmly establish a sense of community, I model vulnerability as a Black woman professor. I cannot ask students to jeopardize their emotional safety without risking my own. I share information about my family and academic experiences that influence my work in schools and classrooms. I discuss the classist, feminist, and heterosexist demons and ignorance that constantly challenge my own understandings of communities and schools. I share multiple examples of my research mis-steps while conducting research.

Lastly, I model acceptance, understanding, and forgiveness, which are necessary practices for researcher reflectivity and solidarity among and across racial/ ethnic researcher communities.

Seeking the balance between emotional safety and intellectual discomfort is a complicated undertaking. If I push too hard and make students too uncomfortable, they shut down and refuse to engage with issues of race. If I am too subtle or indirect, students avoid dealing with race by providing other – isms or societal challenges to fill the racialized space. There is

always some level of discomfort when students participate in talking about race and ethnocentrism, which is why I cultivate respect and care among my students before entering these conversations.

Grappling with Critical Race Storytelling The racialized experiences that the authors in this issue grapple with in their stories are beautifully heartbreaking. The authors are critical of established unchallenged norms and values at the same time they reinforce community cultural wealth and student resistance (Solorzano & Delgado-Bernal, 2001; Yosso, 2005). To convey these stories, the authors tapped into their own hurt and pain and addressed the damage that racism and ethnocentrism inflict on our society. When talking about the role of stories and counterstories, Gloria LadsonBillings (2013) asserts, “We have an obligation to point out the endemic racism that is extant in our schools, colleges, and other public spaces” (p. 45).

Using biographies, parables and allegories, testimonios, cuentos, consejos, chronicles, and narratives, the authors developed counterstories that elucidate the prevalence of racism and how it systematically impacts students’ possibilities for success.

Brianna Ramirez’s story takes place in her home and focuses on a school incident where her younger sister is disciplined for “improper” dress. She uses the conversation between her sister, herself, and her mother to highlight the inequitable outcomes of school discipline for Latinas and how their Brown bodies are surveilled and restricted in schools as a microcosm of society.

Brianna’s story focuses on the intersectional ways that Latinas are marginalized through race/ethnic and gender and forced to comply or resist the habitus of formal education.

Mayra Puente’s story also takes place as a conversation in her home. The main character has been admitted to a highly selective university far from home. Mayra takes the reader through the gamut of emotions felt by her main character, including anxiety about the unknown, shame for wanting to leave, fear that her family will financially and emotionally suffer without her, and excitement about following her dreams.

Through the conversation between mother and daughter, the

reader glimpses what Yosso describes as “familial capital” in Latinx families, and the author challenges stereotypes about Latinas as lacking academic ability or motivation.

James Crawford’s story takes place in a school and provides an intersectional critique of the treatment of Black boys in elementary school classrooms. He builds a composite story through well-documented accounts of dysconscious racism and the marginalization of Black boys by White teachers and school leaders. To emphasize the institutional and systemic nature of racism, James moves the story to focus on the compromised settings and the racial biases embedded within professional development for teachers around culturally relevant pedagogy that promise, yet do not deliver, pedagogical change.

While also taking place in an elementary school, Andrew Matschiner uses his story to expose how whiteness as property and white privilege are threaded throughout the hidden curriculum of public education that is rarely critiqued or contested. His story of a white middle-income boy going through an unremarkable school day reveals how constructions of whiteness, gender, and privilege gradually shape the epistemologies of White children and their future adult identities as “superior” racialized subjects.

By focusing on undergraduate education, Katherine Garcia’s story takes readers to the other end of the education spectrum. In Katherine’s story the reader watches as a young Latina navigates her unwelcoming university campus and classes. The main character is met with microaggressions from faculty and students that erode her self-confidence and make her question her decision to attend an elite university.

Katherine’s story has a broad reach in that it exposes the challenges many students of color encounter while matriculating through a predominantly white institution.

Fellow authors Zaynab Gates, Kirk D. Rogers, and Ramon Stephens approached their stories using larger societal perspectives on race. Zaynab’s story about an Indigenous doctor who finds himself questioning the role of formal education, interrogates the role of education as a tool for assimilation, accommodation, and cultural erasure. She highlights the cultural erosion that formal education necessitates for Indigenous people, and all people of color, as they accrue more schooling. Zaynab’s story expresses the conflicts and tensions between formal

education and Indigenous way of knowing and being in the world that are the basis of education as the property of whiteness because these issues do not plague white middle-income students and families (Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995).

Similarly, Kirk D. Rogers’ story about the death of a Black security officer at a nightclub highlights the continued killing of Black men by the police. Through his fictitious narration of the night’s events through the eyes of the victim, Kirk humanizes Black men and reminds the reader to remain outraged by these recurring events. Kirk’s story reveals how Black communities live underneath a spectrum of violence that reflects societal rationales for the dehumanization and elimination of Black bodies.

Lastly, Ramon Stephens’s allegory on colorblindness provides insight into how white privilege and whiteness as property are maintained through the denial of race and racism.

Ramon’s story is a societal critique of systemic oppression, the vigilant maintenance of white privilege, and the necessary suppression of marginalized voices and counter-narratives.

Following in the footsteps of Derrick Bell’s futuristic storytelling (1992), Ramon’s story critiques the societal norms, dispositions, and values that undermine the cultures and communities of nonwhite people.

Conclusion In this issue, each of the articles require readers to connect with issues of race and racism in personal and professional ways.

Tyson (2003) states, “In essence, we simultaneously attack the causes and heal the effects. We must work at both the macro level and the micro level—with systems and with individuals—in order to have an impact on ideology” (p. 21). Readers will see themselves, family members, and friends, in these stories.

Readers will engage with the lived experiences of racialized groups, not just individual characters. For different reasons, these stories will stay with readers and remain a part of his/her/their memory. And for those of us who consistently apply our gifts and talents towards the elimination of racial injustice in education, these stories will haunt you.

References Bell, D. (1992). The space traders. Faces at the bottom of the well: The Permanence of Racism, 158–94. New York, NY: BasicBooks.

Ladson-Billings, G. (2000). Racialized discourses and ethnic epistemologies. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincolns (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (Vol. 2, pp. 257–278).

Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Ladson-Billings, G. (2013). Critical race theory—What it is not! In M. Lynn & A. D. Dixson (Eds.), Handbook of critical race theory in education (pp. 54–67). New York, NY: Routledge.

Ladson-Billings, G., & Tate, W. F. IV. (1995). Toward a critical race theory of education. Teacher's College Record, 97(1), 47–68.

Solorzano, D. G., & Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Examining transformational resistance through a critical race and LatCrit theory framework: Chicana and Chicano students in an urban context. Urban Education, 36(3), 308–342.

Solorzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2001). Critical race and LatCrit theory and method: Counter-storytelling. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(4), 471–495.

Tyson, C. (2003). Research, race, and an epistemology of emancipation. In G. R. Lopez & L. Parker (Eds.), Interrogating racism in qualitative research methodology (pp. 19–28). New York, NY: Peter Lang.

Yosso, T. J. (2005). Whose culture has capital? A critical race theory discussion of community cultural wealth. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 69–91.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title The Hypervisibility and Disciplining of the Young Brown Mujer Body in School: A Counternarrative of Mother-Daughter-Sister Pedagogies for Survival and Resistance

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/53d4m8m6

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Ramirez, Brianna R

Publication Date 2020

Supplemental Material https://escholarship.org/uc/item/53d4m8m6#supplemental Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

Hypervisibility and Disciplining the Brown Mujer Body in School: A Counternarrative of Mother-Daughter-Sister Pedagogies for Survival and Resistance The following is a counterstory rooted in a “looking prism” (Gonzalez, 2001) that blends critical race theory (CRT),1 Latino critical race theory (LatCrit)2 and Chicana feminist3 thinking to explore and theorize about the experiences of Chicanas/Latinas. These frameworks contribute to an understanding of education spaces that unapologetically center a race and gender analysis as experiences Chicana/Latina students intersect with other forms of marginalization. CRT theorists have used counterstories as a tool to center the experiential knowledge of People and Communities of Color.4 They challenge and resist racist ideologies and discourses by providing an understanding of the world and reality based on marginalized perspectives and positionalities (Delgado, 1989). The story presented here is in the format of a dialogue and very much rooted in my Chicana cultural

1

Critical race theory (CRT) is an analytical, theoretical, and pedagogical tool that unapologetically centers race for understanding and uncovering how race and racism intersect with other systems of oppression and shape the lives of People of color in the United States (Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995). A central tenet of CRT is the centering of race as they intersect with other identities that are tied to systems of oppression and shape the lives and experiences of People of Color.

2 Latino critical race theory (LatCrit) is a framework that brings into conversation the racialized experiences of Latinxs to understand how racism intersects in the lives of the Latinx community by gender, sexuality, language, immigration, and other systems of oppression. This story is rooted in LatCrit, specifically drawing from a lens that centers race as it intersects with gender, sexuality, language in Natalia’s experience of getting dress coded on her third day of seventh grade.

3 Chicana feminist scholarship centers race and its intersection with gender, class, and sexuality to understand and theorize about how systems of subordination underlie and shape the lives of Chicana/Latinas and their experiences in schooling (Holguín Cuádraz, 2005).

The experiences of Latina mujeres in education are intentionally and unapologetically centered in Chicana feminist scholarship, relocating Latina mujeres as the focal point (Delgado Bernal, 1998).

4 Following the writing of critical race theorists and Chicana feminist scholars in education, including Dolores Delgado Bernal, Daniel Solórzano, and Lindsay Pérez Huber, I capitalize the terms Students of Color and Women of Color to engage in a project that moves towards empowerment and racial justice for historically underrepresented racial and gendered groups. I do not capitalize the term “white” in our writing to acknowledge and reject the standard grammatical norms and power represented in the capitalization of the term “white.”

intuition.5 It is informed by my personal experiences, the experiences of my sister, and my mother’s, as we individually and collectively navigate U.S. institutions and practices, with the resiliency and strength to thrive. I hope that in some way this story connects to the experiences of Latinas in schools and Girls and Women of Color navigating the U.S. education system and context.6 The intent of this counterstory is to engage the characters, a mother and her two daughters, in a dialogue about sharing, reflecting, and challenging the racialized and gendered schooling experiences of Latinas.

I invite the reader to open their mind, heart, and spirit as they read the following narrative.

Natalia’s Third Day of School Natalia is in seventh grade at a middle school in the Long Beach Unified School District (LBUSD). The school is diverse across race for the most part, but as a result of tracking, few Students of Color are in the honor’s track. Natalia is usually one of six Latinx students in her honor’s coursework.7 Of the two Latina students, Natalia is noticeably Brown, with Brown skin, dark Brown eyes, and dark Brown, tight curly hair. These physical features—her warm skin color, her beautiful curls—she has

5

Delgado Bernal (1998) describes cultural intuition according to Chicana feminism, as the Chicana/Latina researcher bringing their whole selves into the work they do, to counter the rupturing of the different parts that make us who we are. Cultural intuition welcomes us to draw from our own individual and collective experiences, our families’ and communities’ histories, and our ways of knowing when theorizing about the experiences of Chicanx/Latinx students. Solorzano and Yosso (2001) draw from theoretical sensitivity and cultural intuition, to root their counterstory on Chicanas in academia, in the data, and in their own personal and professional experiences.

6 Crenshaw (1991) argues that an intersectional lens is needed to more fully understand the experiences of women of color, such as the concern for safety and gendered violence that goes ignored and unaddressed. It is necessary to have an intersectional lens for understanding how schools target the Black and Brown bodies of students and how sexist ideologies and constructions of sexuality intersect with race to inflict harm on girls of color. The story demonstrates how Natalia’s young, physically “developed,” Brown female body was the target of racist and gendered schooling policies and practices, experiences that the white female students at her school did not have to concern themselves about. Natalia’s body was made the topic of focus by her teacher, it came to the attention of her classmates, counselor, and peers, as her Brown body and the clothes she wore were outed and constructed as inappropriate and shameful.

7 Solorzano and Ornelas (2004) discuss “schools within schools” to describe the racist schooling structures and practices that results in tracking and segregation of students of color and lead to the different schooling experiences, differential access to resources, and inequitable access to college preparation coursework for Students of Color.

learned to love because of teachings and affirmations she receives at home.

Esmeralda, Natalia’s older sister, is a current college student at the local state university and gets out of class right on time to pick up her sister from school every day on her way home. Today, Esmeralda pulls up to her sister’s school and waves at Natalia who is standing near the curb with her arms crossed. As soon as Natalia gets in the car, she tells Esmeralda, “Guess what happened to me today?” “What?!” Esmerelda replied right almost in sync with Natalia finishing her statement. Natalia quickly answers, “I got dress-coded.”8 Natalia sat in the passenger seat wearing blue jeans, a red shirt that sat at her pant line, her new pair of blue low-top converse, and a wooden carved turtle necklace she got from the family’s most recent trip to her mother’s hometown in Mexico and that she wears every single day. Natalia points at her shirt, telling her sister that the length was supposedly a dress code violation. While still parked, Esmeralda asked her sister for details about what happened. Natalia began from the beginning of her school day, which is when this all started.

First Period Natalia has math first period with Ms. Watson, a white female teacher in her 30s. She starts by recounting: So as soon as I walked into class, Ms. Watson called me out and asked me in front of the whole class that “if I raised my arms up straight if my stomach would show.” She didn’t even give me a chance to answer when she repeated her question and told me that I needed to put my arms up. I told her, “Yeah, my stomach would show.” I didn’t want to just agree with her, but I also knew that I didn’t really have a choice.9

8

According to the LBUSD dress code policy, the following is “unacceptable” for female students: Strapless, spaghetti straps, off-the-shoulder, cut-out designs, floor-length, and sun dresses; low-cut or tight shirts; blouses or tops that bare the midriff at any time; bareback, tube tops, male-type athletic tank tops and plain white T-shirts; seethrough and sheer clothing that does not have an appropriate blouse or shirt underneath.

LBSUD dress code policy for grades K-8: http://www.lbschools.net/Asset/files/Uniforms/Dresscode.pdf.

9

Lomawaima (1993) demonstrates the contradictions inherent in policies that reinforce white supremacy. For example, students are asked to not wear clothes that reveal certain parts of their bodies, yet school staff use their power to force students to expose their bodies to their teachers and their peers. This has been a normalized practice

Natalia did not want to reveal a part of her body to her entire class that she was not previously intending, choosing, nor willing to show. Esmeralda asked her sister if she was going to share what happened with their mom, Natalia answered, “When I get home, I want her to hear it from me first because my counselor threatened to call my parents.” They drive home as Natalia continues to fill her sister in on what happened.

La Cocina10 Natalia and Esmeralda get home and go straight to the kitchen to find their mom, Maria. Maria is starting dinner after getting home from work, so that the meal would be ready by the time her husband got home from work. Maria was cutting some potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and jalapeños, to make her daughters’ favorite plate, pollo en blanco,11 a recipe she learned from her mother. Maria saw Natalia and Esmeralda approaching.

Instead of her usual “como estuvo su dia en la escuela?”12 she asked “que paso mijas?” because she could tell that something was not right. Natalia quickly responds, “I have something to tell you that happened at school today” and she begins the story of what she experienced in the morning.

The three mujeres are in the kitchen, leaning against the cabinets as Natalia

in schools with little concern for how students feel shamed, and questions of sexual harassment or assault are not even called into question but viewed as a legitimate exercise of teacher, adult power. These public inspections of student’s conformity to dress code policies is not new. Lomawaima’s (1993) historical analysis of the impact of federal practices in the experiences of Indigenous girls forced to attend Indian boarding schools documents how girls’ uniforms were inspected daily by teachers to ensure their compliance with the uniform policy. During these inspections, girls were required to lift their dresses to prove that they were wearing the required undergarments.

10 The story is organized by specific spaces that are part of Natalia’s everyday life as a student, highlighting how oppressions takes place in multiple contexts and spaces within schools and how resistance can also take place within these spaces. La Cocina, the Kitchen, is often depicted as a female-gendered space that conforms to gender roles, yet La Cocina is also a space of mujer-centered conversations, passing down of knowledge and tradition, of sisterhood, and strategizing survival and resistance.

11 I do not italicize Spanish within my writing to engage in a political project that normalizes the diverse ways of communicating among Latinx students and families in the United States. In doing so I engage in challenging linguistic terrorism, ways in which language has been used by the dominant culture to regulate and delegitimize the ways in which we linguistically communicate (Anzaldúa, 1987).

Pollo en Blanco is a chicken dish with potatoes and jalapeños cooked in its own juices and served with a side of rice. My mom learned this recipe from my grandmother.

12 “How was your day at school?”

shares how her math teacher sent her to the office to change her shirt because she thought it was in violation of the uniform policy. Maria puts down the knife she was using to cut the vegetables as she hears that Natalia was required to change into a shirt with the school logo, wear it for the entire day, and return it to the office after her last class.

The Counselor’s Office “The shirt didn’t even fit me, it was two sizes too big, and students at school could tell as I walked around all day that I was wearing a loaner shirt,”13 Natalia told her mom and sister. The shirt she was forced to change into served as an indicator to her peers that she had a dress code violation and was forced to change as per school policy. When Natalia went to the office, she talked to the counselor, Ms. Bautista, a Filipina woman.

I told Ms. Bautista that my mom had just bought me this shirt for the beginning of the school year. I asked if I wore a tank top under the shirt if I could wear it again to school, since Ms. Watson said the problem with my shirt was the length. And my counselor told me no, that the shirt was in violation of the dress code and that if she saw me wearing it again, I would be suspended not only for violating the dress policy, but also for disobedience.

Maria jumped in angrily, “Why aren’t schools more worried about students feeling welcome and safe. You go there to learn, why don’t they focus on that.”14

13

According to the LBUSD dress-code policy, “Students attending school must be clean. Clothing worn to school must be neat and clean. It must fit. Oversized, baggy or saggy clothing is prohibited.” This rule is often used against students of color and culturally racist assumptions of cleanliness of Communities of Color, yet in this instance, this specific part of the rules does not apply because those in power get to decide if and when certain rules apply.

14 Lopez (2003) describes the LBUSD dress code as the “most extensive uniform policy in place in the United States” stating that the districts purpose in implementing the dress code was for promoting a “healthy and equitable learning environment” and drawing from data to demonstrate how the implementation of this dress code has decreased “crime” and student absences. The researcher does not disaggregate student data by race to determine if these policies benefit students of color or are beneficial only to white students.

A CRT critique of this liberal agenda and justifications provided in this article makes it clear that these policies are in place to protect the safety of white students, from a presume safety concern that schools perceive in students of color and their communities, and this protection of white students comes at the expense, harm, criminalization, and shaming of students of color.

Natalia agreed with her mom: I was so mad, I told the counselor that I wouldn’t wear the shirt again, but that the school should be more worried about students learning instead of worrying about what we wore to school. And Ms. Bautista raised her voice at me. She told me that as a young woman, I shouldn’t be walking around in revealing clothes,15 that the boys in my class would get distracted and not focus in class.16 Why is it my fault what boys do? And my shirt was not even revealing! Then the counselor handed me the shirt to change in the nurse’s bathroom and as I walked away, she told me I had to tuck in my turtle necklace, or take it off completely, that it was also not within school policy.17 I didn’t even respond to her, I just walked away and went to change in the bathroom. I hid my necklace when I walked by her and took it back out as I walked into class.18

Natalia pauses and all the mujeres stand near each other in the kitchen upset with what happened. Natalia continued, “I was so angry and I wanted to tell her that it’s not my problem if boys are not taught to be

15

Assumptions of “propriety” are based on white constructions of what is appropriate and rooted in the want to police, control, and a need to “protect” female “purity.”

Lamb, Roberts, and Plocha (2016) discuss the intentional historical portrayal of Black women, women of color, and immigrant women as “impure” and exotic to reinforce the constructed purity of whites and protestants. Consequently, schools function as institutions to teach and reinforce these ideals.

16 Instead of teaching students how to respect each other and other people’s bodies falling within the patriarchal and heteronormative rhetoric that “boys are just being boys.” The counselor refers to the male students as “boys” while referring to Natalia as a “young woman,” even though the students are all the same age, demonstrating how Natalia’s Brown body is constructed by school staff and society.

17 This necklace was an expression and marker of culture that the counselor viewed as problematic and not abiding by school uniform policy, which is expressive of how dress codes are used for assimilation purposes and the intent to erase Students of Color. Angela Valenzuela has argued that schools are subtractive in nature and delegitimize the traditions and cultural pride of communities. The LBUSD uniform policy broadly states that “decorations, ornaments and accessories not appropriate for elementary or middle school” are not permitted. Clearly the use of loose descriptions and language can be utilized by people in power to subjectively include or exclude.

18 Solorzano and Bernal (2001) provide a framework for understanding the agency and resistance of students of color that challenge and oppose unjust schooling policies and practices. Lomawaima (1993) demonstrates how Indigenous girls would resist the colonial and racist practices. The collective “bloomer story” in this piece, describes how girls were required to wear bloomers, an undergarment, under their dresses always. The girls would layer their dress and bloomers over their pants from home and would then remove the bloomers are their uniforms were inspected.

respectful of other people’s bodies, I should be able to wear what I want, but I just walked away.” Maria told her daughter, “lo siento mija, I know you didn’t do anything wrong, this is not your fault, it’s the school and your teachers for singling you out. Estoy orgullosa de ti, que te defendiste, you spoke up when you felt you needed to.”19 Schools Uphold Whiteness Natalia continued by angrily explaining that the rest of the day, she was very hyper aware that many white female students were wearing crop tops, that purposefully showed their midriff at all times, but were not dresscoded.20 These students were not forced to change and wore the clothes they came to school with all day long. Esmeralda then chimed in: I’m sorry this happened to you, it’s not fair. Based on what you are sharing with us, it seems that you were singled out because of who you are as a Brown Latina21 since the white female students were clearly in violation of the supposed dress code, yet were not told anything by the school staff.

Your shirt is right at your pant line, not even showing any skin, and that they even dress-coded you for something so minor is so infuriating.22

Natalia followed by explaining:

19

“I’m proud of you for defending yourself.”

This shows discriminatory enforcement of dress code, and discipline policies, and hypervisibility of girls of color in school. Girls of color are punished for the clothes they wear if they are seen at revealing or sexual to school staff, even if white girls wear the same or more revealing clothing. It is the colored body that the clothes are worn on that teachers and school administrators find problematic, demonstrating how race is central in this unfair treatment of Girls of Color.

21 Kiyama, Harris, and Dache-Gerbino (2016) demonstrate how Latinas educational experiences are shaped by the intersection of race, gender, class, sexuality, and other systems of oppression that results in violence targeting Latinas and their bodies.

22 Lamb et al. (2016) demonstrate how racist and gendered ideologies intentionally shorten and threaten Latinx and Black girlhood and schools are complicit and rooted in these ideologies and practices. Latinx families have the tradition of marking the transition from girlhood to womanhood with a quinceañera, a big party to celebrate a “girl turning into a woman” at the age of fifteen. In reality, moments at school that bring hyper visibility to a socially hyper sexualized and fetishized body, through the labels of “impurity” that schools force upon Girls of Color, construct girls as women. Being dress-coded at school, chastised by her teacher and counselor, shamed in front of her peers, forced to change into clothing that was not hers, is part of Natalia’s introduction to being constructed, seen, and treated like a Brown woman in the white education system that so many girls of color know too intimately and experience in and out of school from a very early age.

20

The school is so worried about what we wear. The first day of school, which was just two days ago, they had a whole presentation in three of my six class periods about the school dress code policy, and even though there are rules for all students, the list for female students is twice as long!23 We can’t wear tank tops, can’t have our bra straps showing at any time, if we wear a skirt it can’t be above the knee, and the list goes on and on. It’s not fair that they make it seem that something is wrong with our bodies, that if we show even a little skin it’s a problem.24

“I agree completely with what you are saying Natalia,” replied Esmeralda. She continued: I also believe students should have control over their own bodies and selves. Schools and other institutions should never have control over a person’s body and this shows that schools utilize their power to dominate and police their students.25 You know that uniforms are a tool for socialization and assimilation, especially of Black and Brown bodies and female bodies. Uniforms have been a tool of control since Indigenous children were forced to attend boarding schools. They were required to change their hairstyles and clothes that were rooted in their traditions and practices.26

The mujeres were clearly upset, Maria said, “te mando a esa escuela para que aprendas, and mira como regresas de alli.”27 Natalia responded to her mom’s and sister’s comments, “I missed the whole period by the time I even got back to class. It was a waste of my time and Ms. Watson told me that I was going to get zero points for participation credit since I wasn’t in class when it was her fault I was out of class in the first place!” Out of all the frustration, Natalia started crying and the conversation paused between the mujeres. They held space for Natalia to feel and process the anger, frustration, shame, and the harm from this incident that she had to largely

23

The hyper control of female students through dress code policies is evident in the LBSUD dress code policy: http://www.lbschools.net/Asset/files/Uniforms/Dresscode.pdf.

24

Schools and U.S. institutions have control over the bodies of students and dress code policies serve this function.

25 Morris (2005) discusses how schools reproduce, race, gender, class inequalities through the policing and controlling of students’ bodies, particularly Black students’ bodies and Latinx bodies, in comparison to their white and Asian peers.

26 Lomawaima (1993) highlights how federal education policy and practices of training and clothing female students' bodies based on racist ideologies that assumed mental and physical inferiorities of Indigenous peoples.

27 “I send you to school to learn, and look at how you come home from there”

keep bottled up all school day. Maria hugged Natalia and tried to console her.

Mother-Daughter-Sister Pedagogies This story featuring Maria, Natalia, and Esmeralda, draws from Pedagogies of the Home (Delgado Bernal, 2001; Elenes, Gonzalez, Delgado Bernal, & Villenas, 2001) and Mother-Daughter Pedagogies (Villenas & Moreno, 2001). It highlights the teaching and learning that occurs within the home by drawing from the consejos, stories, and experiences of the family, particularly those transmitted between mothers and daughters. It highlights the cultural knowledge that supports students when they navigate and resist the U.S. educational system that aims to control and erase them and their communities. This story contributes towards an understanding of critical race feminista sistering, to demonstrate how mother-daughter-sister pedagogies that take place in the home and how family can support students in navigating the harm rooted in racism and sexism that they experience in schools.28 This story highlights the braiding of experience and knowledge of Latina mothers, the wisdom they pass down to their daughters, and the tools that daughters carry with them in navigating racist educational contexts and spaces. Chicana/ Latina mothers, sisters, and daughters possess and cultivate powerful tools and strategies for our collective success and liberation.

28

In her testimonio as a mother and scholar-activist, Delgado Bernal (2018) draws from a critical race and gendered understanding and critique of the world and braids this lens in her parenting and pedagogy. This form of critical race feminista praxis, weaves principles of CRT and Chicana feminist theories in how she approaches mothering her three children. I am the first in my family to have access to an academic space where I learn about critical race theory and have the privileged opportunity to reflect and theorize on my own experiences and my family’s history, particularly the history of the muxeres in my ancestral line. The experiences, conversations, and learning that has occurred throughout the last few years between my mom, sister, and me, has led me to think about what critical race feminista praxis in mothering and sistering looks like, as mother-daughtersister pedagogies intersect in my home and family.

References Anzaldúa, G. (1987). Borderlands: La frontera. San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute.

Crenshaw, K. (1991). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color. Stanford Law Review, 43(6), 1241–1299.

Delgado, R. (1989). Storytelling for oppositionists and others: A plea for narrative. Michigan Law Review, 87(8), 2411–2441.

Delgado Bernal, D. (1998). Using a Chicana feminist epistemology in educational research. Harvard Educational Review, 68(4), 555– 583.

Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Learning and living pedagogies of the home: The mestiza consciousness of Chicana students. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(5), 623–639.

Delgado Bernal, D. (2018). A testimonio of critical race feminista parenting: snapshots from my childhood and my parenting.

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 31(1), 25– 35.

Elenes, C. A., Gonzalez, F. E., Bernal, D. D., & Villenas, S. (2001).

Introduction: Chicana/Mexicana feminist pedagogies: Consejos, respeto, y educación in everyday life. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(5), 595–602.

Holguín Cuádraz, G. (2005). Chicanas and higher education: Three decades of literature and thought. Journal of Hispanic Higher Education, 4(3), 215–234.

Kiyama, J. M., Harris, D. M., & Dache-Gerbino, A. (2016). Fighting for “respeto”: Latinas’ stories of violence and resistance shaping educational opportunities. Teachers College Record, 118(12), 1– 50.

Ladson-Billings, G., & Tate, W. F. IV. (1995). Toward a critical race theory of education. Teachers College Press, 97(1), 47–68.

Lamb, S., Roberts, T., & Plocha, A. (2016). Girls of color, sexuality, and sex education. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.

Lomawaima, K. T. (1993). Domesticity in the federal Indian schools: The power of authority over mind and body. American Ethnologist, 20(2), 227–240.

Lopez, R. A. (2003). The long beach unified school district uniform initiative: A prevention-intervention strategy for urban schools.

Journal of Negro Education, 72(4), 396-405.

Morris, E. W. (2005). “Tuck in that shirt!” Race, class, gender, and discipline in an urban school. Sociological Perspectives, 48(1), 25– 48.

Solorzano, D. G., & Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Examining transformational resistance through a critical race and LatCrit theory framework: Chicana and Chicano students in an urban context. Urban Education, 36(3), 308–342.

Solorzano, D. G., & Ornelas, A. (2004). A critical race analysis of Latina/o and African American advanced placement enrollment in public high schools. The High School Journal, 87(3), 15–26.

Solorzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2001). Critical race and LatCrit theory and method: Counter-storytelling. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(4), 471–495.

Villenas, S., & Moreno, M. (2001). To valerse por si misma between race, capitalism, and patriarchy: Latina mother-daughter pedagogies in North Carolina. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(5), 671–668.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title Leaving La Puente: A Critical Race Counterstory of Rural Chicana/Latina College Choice

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/8w36c2km

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Puente, Mayra

Publication Date 2020

Supplemental Material https://escholarship.org/uc/item/8w36c2km#supplemental Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

Leaving La Puente: A Critical Race Counterstory of Rural Chicana/Latina College Choice Following a rich tradition of counterstorytelling in Communities of Color1,2 and the application of counterstorytelling as a method by Critical Race Scholars of Color, 3 this counterstory seeks to add to the existing and continuing set of knowledges 4 by unapologetically centering the college choice experiences of rural Chicana/Latina5 students. Specifically, this counterstory draws on the five tenets of a Critical Race Theory (CRT) in Education framework: (1) the centrality of race and racism and their intersectionality with other forms of subordination, (2) the challenge to dominant ideology, (3) the commitment to social justice, (4) the centrality of experiential knowledge, and (5) the transdisciplinary perspective.6 Additionally, to develop this counterstory I draw on my cultural intuition,7 including my own 1

This counterstory models the intentional writing styles of Scholars of Color who capitalize terms such as “Communities of Color.” Dra. Lindsay Pérez Huber, for example, argues that capitalizing these terms rejects the standard grammatical norm and moves toward empowerment and racial and social justice. The rule of capitalization will also apply to the terms “Scholars of Color,” “People of Color,” “Students of Color,” and “Brown” throughout this counterstory.

2 See Solorzano and Yosso (2001) for a discussion of storytelling in African American, Chicanx/Latinx, and Native American communities.

3 See Solorzano and Yosso (2001) for a discussion of storytelling and counterstorytelling in the social sciences, humanities, law, and education.

4 Anzaldúa (1990) argues that as People of Color, we must “. . . occupy theorizing space, that we not allow white men and women solely to occupy it.

By bringing in our own approaches and methodologies, we transform that theorizing space” (xxv).

Solorzano and Yosso (2001) argue that counterstorytelling is a methodological response to this call. I hope that my counterstory also answers this call by using the methodological tool of counterstorytelling to occupy theorizing space for and with rural Chicanx/Latinx students and families.

5 I include both the terms “Chicana” and “Latina” to account for the varying racial, cultural, social, and political identities that collectively represent women who are from or have roots in Latin America.

6 See Solorzano (1997) for a discussion of the five tenets included in a Critical Race Theory (CRT) in Education framework.

7 Delgado Bernal (1998) theorizes cultural intuition as “the unique viewpoints Chicana scholars bring to the research process” (p. 2). She

personal experiences as a rural Chicana/Latina, 8 my professional experiences as a college access femtor to rural Chicanx/Latinx 9 students and families, and the existing literature on college choice and rural education as it relates to rural Chicanx/Latinx students. This counterstory presents the experiences of Paloma, a composite and data-driven character,10 whose college choice experiences offer critical insight into the concepts of college choice, college proximity, and spatial inequity. My hope is that this counterstory makes visible the voices, identities, and realities of rural Chicana/Latina students whose lived experiences are marginalized in research and policy discussions.

I further hope that this counterstory provides an endarkened 11 understanding of the racist and classist spatial inequities that were built into the higher education system12 that privilege white,13 capitalistic, and individualistic theorizations of college “choice.” I ask the readers to suspend judgment and invite them to listen and learn from 14 the college choice experiences of outlines four sources of cultural intuition: personal experience, existing literature, professional experience, and the analytical research process.

8 The term “rural Chicana/Latina” refers to the identities and experiences of Chicanas/Latinas from rural communities. This term will be used throughout this counterstory.

9 The terms “Chicanx” and “Latinx” are used in this counterstory to intentionally move away from the binary gender pronouns inherent in the Spanish language. These terms remind us that gender is a social and fluid construct, that it is important not to misgender people, and that transgender and genderqueer Chicanx/Latinx people exist and must be included in discussions of race and racism.

10 My composite and data-driven character of Paloma is modeled after Solorzano and Yosso’s (2001) characters of Professor Leticia Garcia and Chicana graduate student Esperanza Gonzalez.

11 I draw on Dillard’s (2000) theorization of an endarkened feminist epistemology to purposefully move away from using terms such as “enlightened,” which center and privilege white ways of knowing.

12 See López Turley (2009) and Hillman (2016) for a discussion of the spatial inequities that were built into the higher education system, which they found severely limits the college opportunities available to rural students, working-class students, and Students of Color.

13 This counterstory models the writing styles of Scholars of Color who do not capitalize the term “white” to reject the standard grammatical norm that brings power to the term “white.”

14 I model Solorzano and Yosso’s (2001) call to readers that asks them to suspend judgment, listen, and learn from the experiences of the composite and data-driven characters in their counterstory.

Paloma and comunidad.15

her

Chicanx/Latinx

farm

working

familia

y

In the Community of La Puente16 “I got in!” Paloma yelled as she fumbled through her phone. Paloma’s dark brown eyes glistened with excitement.

She read and reread her acceptance letter to UC Westside, 17 her dream school. As Paloma sat in her seventh-period AP Literature class in the farthest back corner of the room, she wondered how she had gained admission to the number one public university in the country. Years of subtractive schooling 18 had led Paloma to believe that her cultural and linguistic knowledge as a young Mexican-American mujer19 were a deficit rather than an asset. 20 She had internalized these racially driven deficit perspectives so much so that she had anticipated a rejection letter from UC Westside, despite her high academic qualifications and deep involvement with her school and community.

“I’m in . . . I’m in . . . ,” she repeatedly whispered to herself as she clenched her gold Virgen de Guadalupe21 necklace.

As Paloma logged out of the admissions portal, she noticed that her yell had attracted the cold and piercing stares of her predominately white, middle-class peers. She had interrupted 15

Family and community La Puente is a fictional community that represents the many rural, agricultural communities to which Mexican and other Latinx immigrants migrate for work, often in cheap labor industries where they are exploited and underpaid. La Peh is another name given to represent La Puente throughout this counterstory.

17 UC Westside is a fictional university that represents the public research universities in the University of California (UC) system. According to the UC system’s admissions index, students who are California residents are guaranteed a spot in one of the nine UCs if they are in the top nine percent of California high school graduates and if space is available.

18 Valenzuela’s (1999) Subtractive Schooling argues that schools subtract resources from U.S.-Mexican youth by dismissing their racial and cultural definition of “education” and by promoting assimilationist school policies and practices that minimize their unique racial and cultural ways of knowing.

19 Woman 20 See Yosso’s (2005) theorization of Community Cultural Wealth for a discussion of the array of cultural knowledge, skills, and abilities present in Communities of Color.

21 Our Lady of Guadalupe 16

the space with her Brown excitement over her unanticipated and extraordinary college admission; Brown feelings and accomplishments that were unwelcomed and uncelebrated in this sea of whiteness. Her face burned with embarrassment as she noticed the white glares of her peers. Her discomfort intensified as her white, middle-class male teacher approached her desk.

“Pal-oh-muh,” Mr. Smith condescendingly coaxed, “you should be working on outlining your analytical essay. Especially since your last analysis was poorly written and did not reflect the work of an AP Literature student, let alone the work of a collegegoing student. Please put your phone away and focus.”

The class was silently working on analyzing Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Mr. Smith’s class overwhelmingly focused on “classics” by “great men,” which painfully reminded Paloma that her family and community’s knowledge and contributions to this country were peripheral in the classroom setting.

“Yes, Mr. Smith . . .” Paloma replied obediently. Mr. Smith smirked at her and uninvitingly patted her on the head before returning to his desk.

“If my parents did not raise me to be una persona bien educada,22 the things that I would tell this gringo!”23 Paloma thought. Mr. Smith knew little about Paloma, such as her motivations, aspirations, and abilities.

He frequently mispronounced her name and almost always belittled her critical comments with a nod of courtesy before directing his attention elsewhere. She felt invisible. To make matters worse, Mr. Smith never tried to relate to or understand Paloma. He erroneously believed that she was an average student without special or unique insight. Mr. Smith did not consider that the curriculum, 24 in addition to her being the only Chicana/Latina student in the class, contributed to her daily silence, marginalization, and disempowerment in the classroom. In fact, this was why Paloma strategically sat in the back corner of the room. Paloma knew that distancing herself from her white peers, who repeatedly 22

A well-mannered person A white man 24 See Ladson-Billings (1995) for a discussion of the importance of enacting a culturally relevant pedagogy and curriculum in public schools in the United States.

23

spewed racial microaggressions,25 was a mode of selfpreservation.26 She reminisced of the first time she interacted with her white classmates, a majority of whom commented on her ability to speak English “so well.”27 “UC Westside will be different,” she thought. Paloma remembered the UC Westside pamphlet that she had picked up from her counselor’s office during her first year of high school.

The pamphlet had faces of Black and Brown students, 28 suggesting to Paloma that the racial/ethnic makeup of her college classes would look different from the composition of her predominantly white AP Literature class. When the bell rang, Paloma darted out of the room, escaping the sea of whiteness at exactly 3:30 p.m.—she had survived another day of AP Literature.

Paloma excitedly searched for her friends in the crowd of Mexican students that populated the high school campus. The school’s large Mexican presence felt safe to Paloma and balanced out the disproportionately white AP classes 29 that made her feel unsafe, isolated, and intellectually unengaged. At a distance, Paloma spotted her amigas—Teresa, Maria, and Joanna —all Chicana/Latina students from working-class families.30 “Guys! I got into UC Westside!” Paloma exclaimed as she ran toward them.

25

Racial microaggressions are subtle, covert, and unrecognized forms of racism that have a cumulative effect on the lives of People of Color. See Pierce (1970, 1980) for a conceptual development of racial microaggressions and Solórzano (1998) for an application of racial microaggressions in education settings from a Critical Race Theory (CRT) perspective.

26 See Villalpando (2003) for a discussion of how Chicanx college students engage in “self-preservation.”

27 Being told that one speaks English “so well” is an example of a racial microaggression.

See Solórzano (1998) for other examples of racial microaggressions that People of Color frequently encounter.

28 Colleges and universities routinely use the faces and bodies of Students of Color to falsely portray a racially and ethnically diverse college campus when Students of Color, namely Native American, African American, Chicanx/Latinx, and Southeast Asian students, are severely underrepresented in higher education institutions.

29 Solorzano and Ornelas (2004) find that “ . . . even when Latina/o and African American students attend high schools with high numbers of students enrolled in AP courses, they are not equally represented in AP enrollment” (p.

15).

30 Female friends

Silence, discomfort, and embarrassment—all reactions from Paloma’s friends.

“Did you hear me?!” Paloma shouted as she frantically waved her hands in the air demanding to be seen and heard.

“You are now looking at a future UC Westside student! My dream school . . . I can’t believe it! Can you believe it?!” Paloma twirled and jumped as she excitedly shared her news.

Her excitement was quickly stifled by the lingering silence among her amigas.

“What’s wrong?” she worriedly asked.

“Well,” Maria began as she took a deep breath, “I didn’t get into any of the UC schools I applied to . . . ” “Me neither,” Teresa commented.

“I was admitted into one . . . UC Eastgate,” Joanna murmured. “It was my last choice.”31 At that moment, Paloma’s excitement rapidly turned into immense and unshakable despair. She was so consumed by her admission to her dream school that she had almost forgotten about her friends and their aspirations. Admission to these universities was not the norm, but the exception for students who looked like her and shared her background. Even her sharpest friends, who had persisted through the K-12 educational pipeline, were systematically denied entry into the ivory tower. 32 Paloma was the only one, the sole survivor of an educational system that was not designed with Chicanx/Latinx students and families in mind.

Paloma walked home that afternoon thinking deeply about her friends and their futures as well as her own. As she casually and comfortably strolled through her barrio,33 she got a whiff of 31

Joanna’s “last choice” highlights the complexity of college admissions policies and students’ decisions.

Although Joanna gained admission into one of the UC schools, it was not her top choice, which could be because of the distance between the university and her home, the limited financial aid package offered, or even the lack of racial/ethnic diversity and known racist climate of the institution. Admission into particular universities, as guaranteed by decontextualized college admissions formulas, may be inconsistent with the unique realities, considerations, and aspirations of college-going rural Chicana/Latina students.

32 See Solorzano and Yosso (2000) for a discussion of the “Chicana and Chicano educational pipeline,” which describes the various points Chicanx students are pushed out of educational spaces and systems, beginning with elementary school and ending with graduate school.

33 Neighborhood

Don34 Pepe’s lonchería,35 on the corner of Plano and Rosa. Her mouth watered as she saw the rotisserie spinning the marinated pork meat from a distance. “Damn,” she sighed, “does the city of Westside even have tacos al pastor?” Paloma began to list the things that she would have to give up for her dream school.

“No more pan dulce36 from Doña37 Lola’s panadería,38 no more fiestas39 with the primos,40 no more misas los domingos41 con mi familia . . . ”42 The words “mi familia” rang loudly in her head as she approached her home. Paloma realized that she would not only be leaving her friends and community behind, but her family, too.

Paloma leaned her back on the fence of her home. She sank to the ground, burying her face in her lap. “¿Que voy hacer?”43 she wondered, as she firmly grasped her head with her hands as if to stop it from spinning. Paloma had never left her community—she was born and raised in La Puente. Her parents had labored as migrant farm workers in La Peh and in the surrounding agricultural communities all her life. This was her home. Her parents had forcibly relocated to La Puente due to the lack of educational and economic opportunities in Mexico, but it was nevertheless her home. She had known no other place. “Who will I be without La Peh?” she asked herself.44 34

A Chicanx/Latinx cultural term used to show respect to an older and wiser Chicano/Latino man. English equivalents of this term can be “Mr.” or “sir.”

35 Taco truck 36 Mexican sweet bread 37 A Chicanx/Latinx cultural term used to show respect to an older and wiser Chicana/Latina woman. English equivalents of this term can be “Mrs.” or “ma’am.”

38 Bakery 39 Parties 40 Cousins 41 Sunday masses 42 With my family 43 What am I going to do?

44 Paloma’s line of questioning interrogates the close attachments and ties rural students have with their home communities, which is inseparable from rural students’ identities. It pushes the conversation of sense of place and self-identity further by interweaving her parents’ migration story into a conception of rurality that accounts for historical, cultural, and political experiences. See Pini and Bhopal (2017) for a discussion that moves rurality beyond dominant constructions of whiteness.

Paloma’s stomach began to turn as she wondered how her papás45 would react to her news. She so desperately wanted their blessing and enthusiasm. She wanted nothing more than to make them proud. Yet, Paloma knew that leaving home would greatly affect the way her family members navigated their everyday lives. She was the translator, the counselor, the babysitter, among many other multiple roles that she willingly fulfilled for her hardworking parents. “I could continue my education at La Puente Community College,” she thought. This route would allow her to stay with her family while in college.

She could live at home, look after her siblings, and find a parttime job to continue contributing to the household income. 46 “My parents have already experienced so much hardship,” she pondered. “They left their homes and families only to migrate to a new country where they break their backs for scraps! Why am I making things harder? How could I abandon my family like this? I can’t just leave them behind . . . ,” Paloma contemplated.

Using her hands, she applied pressure to her stomach, but the uncertainty of her pending choice was all-consuming, and the pain would not go away.47 45

Parents Paloma’s consideration of La Puente Community College as a potential viable option in lieu of UC Westside rejects the capitalistic logics embedded in college choice theories and models, which value prestige and selectivity. Academic undermatch theory, for instance, argues that collegegoing students with high grades and high standardized test scores should apply, enroll, and graduate from selective colleges and universities because of their perceived high academic abilities (Freeman, 2017). If Paloma were to consider enrolling in La Puente CC, she would theoretically be categorized as someone who experienced “undermatching.” However, these theories fail to consider that there are non-academic factors that also heavily influence the college choice process, particularly for rural students, working-class students, and Students of Color who have many other roles and responsibilities to consider in their decision-making processes. See Freeman for a discussion of the community college choice experiences of rural “Hispanic” students.

47 The turmoil, distress, and uncertainty that Paloma experiences is intentionally centered in this counterstory on college choice. Leading college choice theories and models fail to engage the emotion and complexity that occurs throughout the college choice process, especially for Students of Color.

This counterstory challenges and resists the linearity embedded in these white-centered student models that are unfit to explain the experiences of rural Chicana/Latina students who navigate multiple identities, roles, and responsibilities.

46

Paloma began to question whether it was worth pursuing her dream of attending UC Westside. She felt as if she was losing so much in the process of realizing this sueño.48 She wondered how many other college sueños of Mexican students from La Peh had also been stunted because of the distance to UC Westside and other universities like it. 49 “Why do we have to travel so far? We have to uproot everything we know and love just to access the necessary tools and skills to help those we know and love. Do other students have to deal with this?” she questioned. “Do other students have to travel this far to pursue their dreams? Do other students have to leave their families, knowing their families need them? How will I even travel back and forth between La Peh and UC Westside? I don’t know the bus or train routes. Will UC Westside provide me with additional financial support to visit my family, my community? Why don’t we have a UC Westside? Who decided that we weren’t good enough to have our own university located right here in La Peh?”50 Paloma got up from the ground and started pacing back and forth rapidly. She felt hurt, discouraged, and frustrated by the numerous educational inequities that impacted the lives of 48

Dream There is a growing body of research that seeks to understand the impact that distance from colleges and universities has on the college choice experiences of rural students, working-class students, and Students of Color (Hillman, 2016; López Turley, 2009; Mattern & Wyatt, 2009; Moore, Tan, & Shulock, 2014). This research overwhelmingly finds that (a) geography matters for college access and choice, and (b) distance to higher education institutions plays a large role in shaping students’ decisions and in reinforcing persisting educational inequities across space.

50 Applying a Critical Race Theory (CRT) perspective, particularly the first tenant of the centrality of race and racism and their intersectionality with other forms of subordination, this counterstory argues that the location of colleges and universities and those who are privileged to live near them are by no means accidental.

One example includes López Turley’s (2009) discussion around the creation of the University of Texas at San Antonio (UTSA). López Turley argues that this institution was originally created to serve a poor and predominantly Latinx population; however, it was subsequently built near “the upper-income, white-dominated northwest periphery of the city” (p. 142). The location of UTSA and other universities like it exacerbates inequities in college access and choice for rural students, working-class students, and Students of Color. See Vélez and Solórzano (2017) for a discussion of the intersection of race and space as it relates to the field of education.

49

her rural Chicanx/Latinx community members of La Peh. “It’s not fair,” she thought, as she walked from one end of the fence to the other. “It’s almost as if they don’t want us to attend these universities.” She stopped pacing abruptly. “Come to think of it,” she speculated, “we are rarely visited by college recruiters.” 51 Throughout her time at La Puente High School, Paloma and her peers had only been exposed to the local community college and other surrounding institutions which included technical schools, for-profit schools, and some public universities that were closer in proximity to La Puente but did not offer the same opportunities as the far away, selective, and research-intensive institutions like UC Westside.

“There’s nothing wrong with La Puente CC,” Paloma reflected. She had primos who attended this two-year college and she knew that choosing to attend La Puente CC was a strategic decision to maintain employment, save money, and stay closer to family. “But why is it that we are concentrated at La Puente CC?52 Why don’t other colleges and universities visit us? Why doesn’t our school take us on trips to visit those far away colleges?” She wondered if exposure to colleges and universities outside of La Peh would be enough to encourage students to uproot their identities, families, and communities for a “world-class education.”53 After all, she had learned of UC 51

See Gettinger (2019) for a discussion of why college recruiters do not visit rural communities and Jaschik (2019) for a discussion of where college recruiters do visit, which largely include wealthy and white high schools.

52 While Latinx students are concentrated at the community college level in the state of California, Zerquera, Acevedo-Gil, Flores, and Marantal (2018) find that “in more than half of the states (n=28) Latina/o/x students were enrolled in four-year colleges at higher rates than they were enrolled in community colleges” (p. 95). These scholars urge us to challenge the dominant narrative surrounding Latinx college student access and choice, given the heterogeneity and diversity among the Latinx student population that varies across geographic contexts.

53 This counterstory challenges traditional approaches to increasing college access and “improving” students’ college choices that center on expanding the knowledge and information available to students to help them make “better” and “more informed” decisions. Consumer information tools such as the College Scorecard, College Navigator, and the Financial Aid Shopping Sheet rely on a set of major assumptions about the college choice process and they further overlook the large role that social, cultural, financial, and geographical characteristics have on students’ college decisions. See Turk and Hillman (2016) for a discussion of utility of consumer information tools.

Westside early on in her high school trajectory, yet she was still contemplating fully committing to this top-notch university.

Years of academic preparation were not enough to lessen the emotional pain that Paloma was currently experiencing.

Her stomach growled. Paloma had been outside her home for about 45 minutes thinking about her admission to UC Westside, what it meant to leave her family and community, and what it meant for these institutions to be so far away and exclusionary. “I have a couple of months before I officially have to decide,” she told herself in a gentle tone. “And I still have to talk with my papás. This decision is going to affect us all, not just me. We have to make it together.” 54 Paloma felt nervous about having to initiate a conversation with her parents, as she was the first in her family to pursue higher education. She was also the first in her extended family to seek enrollment in a university that was far away from La Puente.

This would complicate the discussion.

She wondered if she was wellequipped to answer her parents’ questions and ease their potential fears and concerns. “I can’t even ease my own,” she thought.

Paloma walked into the kitchen to grab a snack and was surprised to see her mother home before sundown. She was also pleasantly surprised to see and smell her mother’s delicious home-cooked enchiladas ready to be devoured.

“Hola mamá,55 what are you doing here?” Paloma asked.

“I finished early today hija,56 but your papá57 is still at work.

He’ll join us later. Come eat. I made your favorite.”

“Great,” Paloma groaned, “another thing I will have to give up.”

54

This counterstory challenges the individualism that is embedded in leading college choice theories and models that assume that students make decisions solely based on their own individualistic and meritocratic aspirations. The aspirations and decisions of rural Chicana/Latina students are intertwined and inseparable from those of their families.

This interconnectedness between Chicana/Latina students and their families should not be viewed as a deficit, but rather as an asset that guides and informs their decision-making in a collective as opposed to an individual setting. See Alvarez (2010), Ceja (2004), and Martinez (2013) for a discussion of the critical role of family in the college choice processes of Chicanx/Latinx students.

55 Mother 56 Daughter 57 Father

“What?” her mother responded as she plated the enchiladas.

“Nada, mamá. Let’s eat.”

Paloma watched as her mamá poured the crema58 and salsa roja59 over the enchiladas. Her mother’s hands were rough and calloused after decades of laboring in the agricultural fields.

Hands that had put food on the tables of millions of homes in the United States.

“Ready!” her mother excitedly remarked.

As Paloma cut into her enchiladas, she thought about the various consejos, dichos y cuentos60 her mamá had shared with her throughout her adolescence. She had learned a lot from her mamá. She had learned to make these very enchiladas that she was digging into, to keep a clean home, and to valerse por si misma.61 Her home knowledge62 was a critical tool that had helped her navigate the numerous educational obstacles that she faced in pursuit of higher education as a rural Chicana/Latina student. The lessons her mamá shared with her had equipped Paloma with the necessary strategies to survive and thrive in a white, competitive, and individualistic educational system. But this extraordinary accomplishment, her admission to UC Westside, felt wrong.

“Paloma why aren’t you eating?” her mother pressed.

Paloma looked at her mamá. Her mother’s sunburnt yet tender face filled Paloma’s heart with so much love. “How can I leave her behind?” Paloma thought. She already missed her mamá.

“Paloma? ¿Qué tienes?63” her mother probed.

“Mamá . . . I was admitted into UC Westside,” she replied nervously.

“UC Westside? ¿Qué es eso?”64 her mother demanded.

58

Sour cream Red salsa 60 Advice, proverbs, and stories 61 To be self-reliant 62 See Delgado Bernal (2001) for a discussion of the lessons that are learned in the home and community that Chicana/Latina students draw on to “survive and succeed within an educational system that often excludes and silences them” (p. 623).

63 What is wrong?

64 What is that?

59

“It is a university, mamá. The best university. My dream university . . . ” Paloma’s mamá watched as her oldest daughter’s face lit up as she talked about her dream school. She was immensely proud of her daughter’s accomplishments, but she had real fears and concerns that needed immediate answers.

She had questions about her daughter’s safety in this new and distant city where they had no relatives. She had questions about the affordability of UC Westside and about where Paloma would live and with whom. She wondered how often she would see her daughter.

“Mi Palomita,” her mamá began as she affectionately caressed her daughter’s face, “I migrated to this country with dreams of a better life for you and your siblings. I am so proud of what you have accomplished for yourself. I never wanted you to end up like me . . . ” “Mamá,” Paloma interrupted, “I have studied hard because of you. I want to do this not for myself, but for you, for our familia, for our cultura,65 for our gente.66 I want to especially do this for the Chicanx/Latinx students that UC Westside overlooks.”

Paloma remembered her friends who were denied access to the UC system. “This is for them and for others like them,” she added.67 Paloma’s mamá smiled at the chingona68 daughter she had raised.

That day, Paloma accepted her admission to UC Westside.

The journey ahead was going to be difficult for Paloma. She would face an innumerable set of academic, social, and emotional challenges associated with attending a selective 65

Culture People 67 Students of Color, and Chicanx/Latinx students specifically, typically pursue higher education to give back to their families and communities. This aspect of choosing the path of higher education is usually not centered in leading college choice theories and models. In fact, Chicanx/Latinx students’ social justice pursuit of higher education is often interpreted through deficit lenses because of the types of colleges and careers students choose to realize their long-term aspirations of service and care for their families and communities. See Pérez Huber, Vélez, and Solórzano (2018) for their Critical Race Occupational Index (CROI) theorization that centers the importance of service and care in exploring the occupational outcomes for People of Color.

68 Badass 66

university with few Brown students and even fewer Brown students from rural communities. But Paloma was resilient. She had persisted this far in the educational pipeline because her parents had taught her the meaning of hard work and perseverance; her first mentors.

She hoped to model her parents’ hard work ethic in college and hoped to one day repay them for their endless sacrifices with a diploma from UC Westside. Until then, leaving La Puente was one of the many sacrifices Paloma was determined to make for them just as they had always made for her. Paloma’s absence would be felt by her family and others in her community. They would wonder where she went, wonder why she went so far away.69 But she was leaving to come back.70 She would come back for the others.

For her papás, her amigas, y el resto de La Peh.71 She was 69

The ending of this counterstory is modeled after Cisneros’s (1989) Esperanza character in her coming-of-age novel House on Mango Street. See the following excerpts from the novel: When you leave you must remember to come back for the others. A circle, understand? You will always be Esperanza. You will always be Mango Street. You can’t erase what you know. You can’t forget who you are. (Cisneros, 1989, p. 105) One day I will pack my bags of books and paper. One day I will say goodbye to Mango. I am too strong for her to hold me here forever.

One day I will go away. Friends and neighbors will say, “What happened to that Esperanza? Where did she go with all those books and paper? Why did she march so far away?” They will not know I have gone away to come back. For the ones I left behind. For the ones who cannot get out. (Cisneros, 1989, p. 110) 70

The literature on rural education finds that rural students do not return to their home communities after leaving to pursue higher education because their communities do not offer sufficient career opportunities. This counterstory seeks to counter this “brain drain” effect that is typically discussed in the rural education literature by deliberately emphasizing Paloma’s desire to return to her community to help others. The desire to return and make an impact on one’s home community is consistent with the literature on Chicanx/Latinx college access and choice, although it is largely missing from the rural narrative. Importantly, rural education literature tends to be overwhelmingly written by white scholars about white rural communities and literature on Chicanx/Latinx college choice tends to focus on students from urban backgrounds, which can explain the gaps across these two fields of literature.

71 For her parents, her female friends, and the rest of La Peh.

leaving La Puente for college, but she was bringing along her entire family and community in body, mind, and spirit.

Discussion The Critical Race methodological tool of counterstorytelling allows for voices, perspectives, and realities from the margins to be centered and made visible in research and policy discussions.

The college choice experiences of rural Chicana/Latina students is a story that is not often told and intentionally developed in this special issue to demand awareness and justice for rural Chicanx/ Latinx students and families. Leading college choice theories and models have widely attempted to remove the messiness and complexity from the college choice process by promoting a series of college choice phases that are generalized across student groups regardless of history, context, and identity.

Further, the leading research on rural students continues to omit the experiences of rural Students of Color, including Native Americans, African Americans, and Chicanxs/Latinxs.

The composite character of Paloma, a rural Chicana/Latina student, challenges the linearity embedded in college choice models and disrupts the whiteness embedded in rural education literature.

Although Paloma’s character represents the college choice experiences of rural Chicanas/Latinas, it is important to note the variability of experiences among this group of students. The conversations with her amigas about their college admissions and Paloma’s own reflection about those who were denied entry into the ivory tower depict this variability. There are many Palomas like the one characterized in this counterstory who thrive in educational spaces despite structural inequities, but there is an even greater number of Palomas whose aspirations are curtailed because of an unjust, racist, and classist education system. I do this work for all the Palomas whose individual and collective narratives demand racial, social, and spatial justice for rural Chicanx/Latinx communities.

References Anzaldúa, G. (1990). Haciendo caras, una entrada. In G. Anzaldúa (Ed.), Borderlands/La frontera: The new mestiza (xv–xxviii).

San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute Books.

Alvarez, C. L. (2010). Familial negotiation of the Latina college choice process: An exploration of how parents and their daughters obtain and utilize information to navigate the process. Enrollment Management Journal, 4(4), 57–80.

Ceja, M. (2004). Chicana college aspirations and the role of parents: Developing educational resiliency. Journal of Hispanic Higher Education, 3(4), 338–362.

Cisneros, S. (1989). The House on Mango Street. New York: Vintage Books.

Delgado Bernal, D. (1998). Using a Chicana feminist epistemology in educational research. Harvard Educational Review, 68(4), 555–583.

Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Learning and living pedagogies of the home: The mestiza consciousness of Chicana students.

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(5), 623–639.

Dillard, C. B. (2000). The substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen: Examining an endarkened feminist epistemology in educational research and leadership. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 13(6), 661–681.

Freeman, E. (2017). Diversion or democratization: Do rural, Hispanic, community college students show signs of academic undermatch? Journal of Hispanic Higher Education, 16(1), 77–97.

Gettinger, A. (2019). One reason rural students don’t go to college: Colleges don’t go to them. Retrieved from https:// www.npr.org/2019/03/06/697098684/one-reason-ruralstudents-dont-go-to-college-colleges-don-t-go-to-them Hillman, N. W. (2016). Geography of college opportunity: The case of education deserts. American Educational Research Journal, 53(4), 987–1021.

Jaschik, S. (2019). Where do colleges recruit? Wealthy and white high schools. Retrieved from

https://www.insidehighered.com/admissions/article/2019/0 4/01/study-finds-public-universities-focus-out-staterecruitment-high Ladson‐Billings, G. (1995). But that’s just good teaching! The case for culturally relevant pedagogy. Theory Into Practice, 34(3), 159–165.

López Turley, R. N. (2009). College proximity: Mapping access to opportunity. Sociology of Education, 82(2), 126–146.

Martinez, M. A. (2013). (Re)considering the role familismo plays in Latina/o high school students’ college choices. The High School Journal, 97(1), 21–40.

Mattern, K., & Wyatt, J. N. (2009). Student choice of college: How far do students go for an education? Journal of College Admission, 203, 18–29.

Moore, C., Tan, C., & Shulock, N. (2014). Average won’t do: Performance trends in California higher education as a foundation for action. Sacramento, CA: Institute for Higher Education Leadership & Policy.

Pérez Huber, L., Vélez, V. N., & Solórzano, D. (2018). More than “papelitos”: A QuantCrit counterstory to critique Latina/o degree value and occupational prestige. Race Ethnicity and Education, 21(2), 208–230.

Pierce, C. (1970). Offensive mechanisms. In F. Barbour (Ed.), The Black Seventies (pp. 265–282). Boston, MA: Porter Sargent.

Pierce, C. (1980). Social trace contaminants: Subtle indicators of racism in TV. In S. Withey and R. Abeles (Eds.), Television and social behavior: Beyond violence and children (pp.

249–257). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Pini, B., & Bhopal, K. (2017). Racialising rural education. Race Ethnicity and Education, 20(2), 192–196.

Solorzano, D. G. (1997). Images and words that wound: Critical race theory, racial stereotyping, and teacher education.

Teacher Education Quarterly, 24(3), 5–19.

Solórzano, D. G. (1998). Critical race theory, race and gender microaggressions, and the experiences of Chicana and Chicano scholars. Qualitative Studies in Education, 11(1), 121–136. DOI:10.1080/095183998236926 Solorzano, D. G., & Ornelas, A. (2004). A critical race analysis of Latina/o and African American advanced placement

enrollment in public high schools. The High School Journal, 87(3), 15–26.

Solorzano, D., & Yosso, T. (2000). Toward a critical race theory of Chicana and Chicano education. In C. Tejeda, C. Martinez, & Z. Leonardo (Eds.), Charting new terrains of Chicana (o)/ Latina (o) education (pp. 35–65). Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press.

Solorzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2001). Critical race and LatCrit theory and method: Counter-storytelling. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(4), 471–495.

Turk, H. M., & Hillman, N. (2016). The accountability movement, college choice and the importance of place. Retrieved from https://www.higheredtoday.org/2016/06/01/theaccountability-movement-college-choice-and-theimportance-of-place/ Valenzuela, A., & Rubio, B. (2018). Subtractive schooling. In The TESOL Encyclopedia of English Language Teaching (pp. 1– 7). New York, NY: John Wiley & Sons.

Vélez, V., & Solórzano, D. G. (2017). Critical race spatial analysis: Conceptualizing GIS as a tool for critical race research in education. In D. Morrison, S. A. Annamma, & D. D. Jackson (Eds.), Critical race spatial analysis: Mapping to understand and address educational inequity (pp. 8–31. Sterling, VA: Stylus.

Villalpando, O. (2003). Self‐segregation or self‐preservation? A critical race theory and Latina/o critical theory analysis of a study of Chicana/o college students. Qualitative Studies in Education, 16(5), 619–646.

Yosso, T. J. (2005). Whose culture has capital? A critical race theory discussion of community cultural wealth. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 69–91.

Zerquera, D. D., Acevedo-Gil, N., Flores, E., & Marantal, P. (2018).

Repositioning trends of Latina/o/x student enrollments in community colleges. Association of Mexican American Educators Journal, 12(1), 86–106.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title Seen Without (in)Sight

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/81g3d1d8

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Crawford, James

Publication Date 2020

Supplemental Material https://escholarship.org/uc/item/81g3d1d8#supplemental Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

Seen Without (in)Sight This CRT counterstory exemplifies the inherently racialized nature of school discipline in a middle school context where school and district staff contentiously strategize to address the persistent discipline gap between Black and white students. The story is guided by CRT tenets, particularly the intercentricity of race and racism, the challenge to dominant ideology, and the commitment to social justice. The intercentricity of race and racism and challenge to dominant ideology are centered in the explication of the taken-for-granted assumptions of Black youth who are often characterized by school staff as students that don’t care about learning and labeled as “frequent flyers,” which obscures the punitive, social reproductive function of schools while blaming students and families for their marginalized status.

This story also demonstrates the CRT tenet of commitment to social justice by emphasizing the need for interventions such as Restorative Justice to counteract the anti-Blackness that pervades American schools. *** Walking down the hallway of Truman Middle School in her usual upbeat stride, Principal Emily Peterson locked her eyes onto DeShawn Adams, a Black male seventh-grade student, who was seated by himself playing with a fidget spinner outside the gym. Principal Peterson walked over and asked in a sympathetic tone, “What’s going on DeShawn? Why are you sitting outside of your class today?” DeShawn paused, shrugged his shoulders, and without making eye contact replied, “I don’t know. Some kids started shoving and stuff during the game and I’m the one that got in trouble. It’s like the teacher only sees me.”

“I’ll be right back,” Principal Peterson said as she entered the gym. Inside the gym, Mr. Bradley, the physical education teacher of over 25 years, was monitoring the seventh-grade girls and boys who were playing basketball on both ends of the court.

Ms. Peterson approached Mr. Bradley, “Good afternoon, Mr. Bradley. Why is DeShawn sitting outside of class again?” Mr. Bradley sighed and remarked matter-of-factly, “He doesn’t know

how to act and doesn’t want to be here.” Without missing a beat, Principal Peterson retorted, “Well, have you tried talking to him?”

“Of course, I’ve tried to talk to him, but he’s too aggressive and it ruins the fun for the rest of the kids,” Mr. Bradley said as he gestured to the kids on the court shooting the ball, running around laughing, and playing. “I’m sure DeShawn would like to have fun, too,” Principal Peterson said with a smile to ease the tension now bubbling to the surface. Mr. Bradley, hoping to end the conversation, remarked without emotion, “I’m sure DeShawn would like a lot of things, but he needs to learn consequences so that he thinks before he acts.”

This wasn’t the first time Principal Peterson had conversations with Mr. Bradley and her staff about DeShawn’s behavior and their interactions with other Black students, particularly Black boys. She noticed that during her eight-year tenure as Principal at Truman Middle School, the Black students at her school were consistently disciplined at higher rates and currently had a 338 percent greater likelihood of being suspended than their white peers. Principal Peterson recognized that this data reflected deeply entrenched racial biases, but she also told herself and others, “We are more than these numbers, but they’re telling us something: We have students that we just haven’t figured out how to support yet.” In response to the persistent inequities in discipline and academic outcomes, the district superintendent set up a meeting with Principal Peterson and Truman staff a few weeks later to discuss the short-term and long-term plans for supporting Black students.

Superintendent Barbara Williams, Ed.D.1 and Steven Connor, the district’s Chief of Schools, arrived in the early morning to meet in the Truman Middle School conference room with Principal Peterson and a select group of teachers and staff, 1

The aforementioned story was based on a news article I read in which a Minnesota Superintendent of schools chose to take drastic measures (such as the moratorium on suspensions for students in pre-K through first grade for nonviolent offenses) to address the rampant racial disparities in the disciplining of Black students (Green, 2018). I was struck by the backlash that ensued as a result of the Superintendent’s policies that were implemented to increase racial equity. Consequently, I infused some of the tensions into the story, along with comments and concerns that I have heard while working with school teachers and staff to implement Restorative Justice policies and practices.

including Mr. Bradley, to voice concerns and strategize to address the ongoing racialized discipline gaps.

Principal Peterson began the meeting: I would like to welcome Superintendent Barbara Williams, and the District Chief of Schools, Steven Connor to Truman Middle School.

We are here to discuss issues related to school discipline and specifically, the racial disparities that disproportionately impact our Black students. As you all know, Dr. Williams and her team have already implemented a moratorium on suspensions across the district for students in pre-K through first grade for nonviolent offenses.

We are hopeful that we can help develop and implement additional policy and procedural changes to better support our Black students here at Truman Middle School.

Dr. Williams, a stern and astute Black woman, introduced herself and got right to business: Hello everyone, I am Superintendent Barbara Williams and I am not here to sugarcoat this dire situation. Our schools are in crisis.

Particularly, there is a crisis of consciousness, the difference and dissonance between what we profess to know and how we choose to act. In the case of school discipline, we know there are disparities that persist, but our actions have yet to fundamentally change this circumstance.”

District Chief of Schools, Steven Connor, chimed in: We’re at a tipping point, and that’s what you see in the schools.

Last month, our state Department of Human Rights notified 43 school districts and charter schools that suspension rates for nonviolent offenses still suggested widespread discriminatory practices.

Dr. Williams continued: Nationally, Black students are suspended three times as often as their white peers, and here in our state, it is eight times as often. This grim reality is highly contingent upon the poverty gap between Blacks and whites, which exceeds the national average, along with the rapid increase in our state’s minority population over the last decade.

Mr. Bradley, sitting at the conference table next to a few of his colleagues, remarked: Yes, I’ve been here at Truman for over 25 years and our school is changing for the worse. We’re having a lot more behavior problems, especially now that teachers are scrutinized for every referral and suspension.

A few teachers and staff nodded and murmured to each other. Dr. Williams followed: Which brings me to my next point. As you can see from your experience as well as the statistics, referrals and suspensions are not working for our students. It is doing more harm than good to reduce students’ instruction time.

Visibly perturbed, Mr. Bradley argued: Well now our school is in chaos. Kids know they aren’t going home so they are more defiant, less responsive to my commands. It’s so bad now that I feel like I have to let most things go.

Ms. Peterson thought about DeShawn and asked, “Mr. Bradley, can you tell us why you would have a student like DeShawn removed from class?” Mr. Bradley explained, “He’s a frequent flyer.2 I can’t have a student like that always disrupting the class 2

This story is undergirded by CRT tenets including intercentricity of race and racism, the challenge to dominant ideology, and the commitment to social justice (Solórzano & Yosso, 2002). The intercentricity of race and racism and challenge to dominant ideology are centered in the explication of the taken-for-granted assumptions of Black youth who school staff often characterize as students that don’t care about learning (Harper & Davis, 2012) and label as “frequent flyers” (Kennedy-Lewis & Murphy, 2016), which obscures the punitive, social reproductive function of schools while blaming students and families for their marginalized status.

For example, Kennedy-Lewis and Murphy’s (2016) study explored the experiences and perspectives of “persistently disciplined” elementary and middle school students. The researchers were guided by two main research questions: “How do these students’ accounts of their academic and discipline histories reveal their experiences with being labeled a ‘bad kid’? How do they experience educators’ responses to them in the process?” (p. 3). This study was intentionally positioned to highlight the voices of students who are labeled as “frequent flyers” to assess the potential impact of such a label in relation to the students’ internalized sense of identity and self-efficacy.

or else the other students think they can act the same way. We need real discipline.”

Ms. Camila Garcia, an eighth-grade social studies teacher, mentioned, “Discipline is a loaded term. It can mean different things to different people. Are we talking about discipline as helping to empower students in making positive choices or discipline as control?” Dr. Williams cut to the point, “When people have kids around them that don’t look like them, they want them controlled.” Mr. Bradley responded incredulously, “I don’t think we’re racist, if that’s what you mean.” Ms. Garcia clarified: You don’t have to be a racist to enact racially discriminatory policies and practices, but systemic racism does have a lot to do with it. Our conversations have to be about a mistake that a child made, not something that’s wrong with them. If students are demonstrating behaviors that are not aligned with our policy, it’s our job to figure out why.

Dr. Williams added: Yes, our policies and practices are the issue, not the students.

Let’s consider two main areas of change: discipline and curriculum. I’ve already had conversations with Ms. Peterson The racial composition of the study sample seemed purposely aligned with the literature that reveals highly disproportionate school discipline practices targeting African American students. The researchers noted, “For instance, African American students are three and a half times as likely to get suspended for the same first offense as White students, are more likely to be repeatedly sanctioned and receive harsher sanctions than their White peers for similar behaviors” (Kennedy-Lewis & Murphy, 2016, p. 3). Additionally, “Ninety-one percent of out-of-school suspensions were given to Black students” (p. 8). Race is shown to play a central role in the experiences of marginalization among students of color, yet the researchers noted, “While exclusionary discipline and the labeling of ‘bad kids’ disproportionately affects students of color, we did not ask students about the role of race in their labeling, and they did not bring it up with us” (p. 28). As with so much of mainstream social science research, it is concerning that race was not centered in this study even though race is identified as highly salient in the findings. This begs the question of how much is missing in the analysis when eliding the impacts of racism on the internalized perceptions of a predominantly African American student sample. Hence the need for a theoretical lens with an explicitly counterhegemonic analytical frame, such as CRT, to inform the research design and data analysis of a study that is constructed to elucidate the racialized experiences of Black students.

about revisions to the curriculum that are on the way. Ms. Peterson, would you please tell everyone a little bit about it? 3

Ms. Peterson replied as she looked around at her staff: Yes, this year we’ve begun curriculum changes that require teachers to reflect on their own identities and how they are adjusting to serve a more diverse student population. I think we have to challenge our own biases every day. I know some teachers aren’t ready, and some teachers need more time. But I’m telling you that we’re not going to give up on students, and I’m not going to give up on you.

Dr. Williams replied: Thank you, Ms. Peterson. We will be following up with you and your staff to assess the ongoing impact of the new curriculum and to ensure it aligns with state standards.

Regarding discipline, Mr. Connor, please explain the potential use of Restorative Justice tools and techniques as an intervention and alternative to traditional, punitive discipline practices. 4 3

According to hooks (1994), education designed to shift hegemonic ideologies and social structures requires a shift in curricula and pedagogy.

Engaged pedagogy centers a holistic approach to well-being, is culturally relevant, supports student voice, empowers students and teachers, and transforms the biases that are embedded in the curriculum (pp. 13–22). In this way, pedagogy and curriculum are developed to intentionally uplift the dignity and worth of all students. Vaandering (2010) asserts that engaged pedagogy also “leads to a transformed classroom, which in turn will lead to transformed lives that extend beyond the classroom” (p. 161). Ultimately, the effectiveness of RJ and engaged pedagogical frameworks is based on the underlying philosophy that guides the implementation and whether the intended effect is social reproduction through social control, or collective liberation through dialogic consciousness-raising and praxis.

4 This story highlights the CRT tenet of the commitment to social justice by emphasizing the need for Restorative Justice to counteract the antiBlackness that pervades American schools.

The National Centre for Restorative Approaches in Youth Settings defines RJ: . . . an innovative approach to offending and inappropriate behavior which puts repairing harm done to relationships and people over and above the need for assigning blame and dispensing punishment. A restorative approach in a school shifts the emphasis from managing behavior to focusing on the building, nurturing and repairing of relationships. (Hopkins, 2002, p. 147)

Mr. Bradley interjected under his breath before Mr. Connor responded, “Oh, here we go again.” Mr. Connor said, “Excuse me, did you have something to say?” Mr. Bradley stammered, “Well, no . . . I mean yes.” Mr. Bradley responded more confidently than ever: I’ve heard of RJ and it doesn’t work. Here’s another training to get us all emotional, talking about feelings. All that touchy-feely Kumbaya new-age nonsense. If the kids don’t want to act right, if they don’t want to be here, that’s their parents’ issue, not mine.

Dr. Williams plainly remarked: Each and every one of us has the responsibility to meet these kids where they are; to truly see them and their experiences with compassionate insight. So, Mr. Bradley, if you don’t want to get on board with helping all of our students succeed, if you don’t want to be here, that’s your issue, not mine.

The meeting continued with Mr. Bradley silently sulking in his seat. Mr. Connor explained the conceptual elements that underlie Restorative Justice praxis and additional plans were made to implement staff and teacher trainings by the next school year. Mr. Bradley retired before the curriculum and discipline changes went into effect. Ms. Peterson is hopeful that the changes will make lasting improvements to school climate and the experiences of Black students. DeShawn went into the eighth grade never having to deal with Mr. Bradley again. Yet DeShawn and many like him are still dealing with being seen as the perennial problem—seen without insight into who they are or the critical understanding and care to address the real problem of systemic racism.

Conclusion Restorative Justice (RJ) can be viewed as an approach that helps keep students in school by cultivating and sustaining relationships among students and staff, which allows for restorative responses to the deeper causes of behavioral issues.

Yet, as the Mr. Bradley character signified, some educators and stakeholders are resistant to RJ because it can be perceived as

being “too soft” on student misbehavior (Evans & Lester, 2013).

Some researchers also suggest shifting attitudes away from the use of punitive discipline may take one to three years (Karp & Breslin, 2001), and the more substantive shift to a restorative school climate may take up to three to five years (Evans & Lester, 2013). This timing requires that the RJ program is financially sustained, which underscores the importance of considering the resources and timeframe that are necessary to introduce RJ in a particular school or district.

In addition to the various challenges of RJ implementation, there are also limits to its potential to address the underlying, endemic causes of disproportionate disciplining in schools. Irby (2014) contends, “Even restorative approaches have limits if and when restorative work restores students to academic and social contexts that are fundamentally flawed by inequitable access to educational opportunities” (p. 520). Educational opportunities are structured by a hegemonic social order that normalizes disparities and lack of support in key areas such as funding (Ladson-Billings, 2006), critical race and anti-oppressive curriculum (Kumashiro, 2000; Yosso, 2002), and empowering collaborations with students, families, and communities (Armour, 2013).

Disproportionate disciplining perpetuates these inequitable schooling experiences and the subordinated status of historically marginalized students by sustaining deficit perspectives and implicit biases, along with the concomitant violence of discriminatory treatment and lowered expectations that hinder life outcomes (Meiners, 2007).

References Armour, M. (2013). Ed White Middle School restorative discipline evaluation: Implementation and impact, 2012/2013 sixth grade. Austin: University of Texas, Austin.

Green, E. L. (2018, April 4). Why are Black students punished so often? Minnesota confronts a national quandary. The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2018/03/18/us/politics/schooldiscipline-disparities-white-black-students.html Evans, K., & Lester, J. (2013). Restorative justice in education: What we know so far. Middle School Journal, 44(5), 57–63.

Harper, S. R., & Davis, C. H. III. (2012). They (don’t) care about education: A counternarrative on Black male students’ responses to inequitable schooling. Educational Foundations, 26(1-2), 103–120. hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to transgress: Education as the practice of freedom. New York, NY: Routledge.

Hopkins, B. (2002). Restorative justice in schools. Support for Learning, 17(3), 144–149.

Irby, D. J. (2014) Trouble at school: Understanding school discipline systems as nets of social control. Equity & Excellence in Education, 47(4), 513–530.

Karp, D., & Breslin, B. (2001). Restorative justice in school communities. Youth and Society, 33(2), 249–272.

Kennedy-Lewis, B., & Murphy, A. S. (2016). Listening to “frequent flyers”: What persistently disciplined students have to say about being labeled as “bad.” Teachers College Record, 118(1), 1–40.

Kumashiro, K. K. (2000). Toward a theory of anti-oppressive education. Review of Educational Research, 70(1), 25–53.

Ladson-Billings, G. (2006). From the achievement gap to the education debt: Understanding achievement in U.S. schools. Educational Researcher, 35(7), 3–12.

Meiners, E. R. (2007). Right to be hostile: Schools, prisons, and the making of public enemies. New York, NY: Routledge.

Solórzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2002). Critical race methodology: Counter-storytelling as an analytical framework for education research. Qualitative Inquiry, 8(1), 23–44.

Vaandering, D. (2010). The significance of critical theory for restorative justice in education. The Review of Education, Pedagogy, and Cultural Studies, 32(2), 145–176.

Yosso, T. J. (2002). Toward a critical race curriculum. Equity & Excellence in Education, 35(2), 93–107.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title What He Learned to Think He Earned

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/69b4c63b

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Matschiner, Andrew

Publication Date 2020

Supplemental Material https://escholarship.org/uc/item/69b4c63b#supplemental Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

What He Learned to Think He Earned From the day I was born, I began to learn my lessons . . . we learned the dance that cripples the human spirit, step by step, we who were white . . . . These ceremonials in honor of white supremacy, performed from babyhood, slip from the conscious mind down deep into muscles and glands and become difficult to tear out. (Lillian Smith, Killers of the Dream) This story offers an autobiographical counterstory examining different ways young white, middle-class children in the United States learn to accept and celebrate their place in a viciously unequal society.

The story explores this process through the experiences of a young white student named Zack growing up in Cedar Grove and attending Cedar Grove Elementary.

The story focuses on what researchers call white racial socialization (Hagerman, 2018), socialization practices (Hughes et al., 2006), and white habitus (Bonilla-Silva, Goar, & Embrick, 2006). This counterstory attempts to pull back the curtain on how white children are socialized to accept and celebrate the status quo in a nation built on a racial caste system (Alexander, 2010). Two central metaphors appear throughout the story: The Covenant and an initiation. The Covenant represents a set of agreements most white Americans “sign” in exchange for the ongoing material, psychological, and emotional benefits of remaining silent and complicit in white supremacy and settler colonialism.

Likewise, an initiation process involving conversation, curriculum, correction, and a criminal silence, socializes white youth to not question their position in society and to “sign” The Covenant like their parents years before.

Story He didn’t sign up for the initiation. It was necessary and in many ways required—a rite that would help everything make sense before he knew to think otherwise. It was planned, coordinated, and managed. When it was complete, it was like it never happened. It was normal, invisible, and ever-present. It began one colorful and crisp September morning and continued each September for years to come. As Zack entered the local elementary school for kindergarten, his initiation began, too.

This initiation never made it on his schedule; no course, hour, or project dedicated to it. It was there, however, at all times and throughout all parts of his day.

On that particular September morning, Cedar Grove Elementary School was full of emotion with adults offering goodbyes to their children on their first day of school. Teachers waited eagerly, each smiling with warm reassurance. These teachers had undergone the same initiation some years ago complete with the same methods and messages (Harro, 2000).

The smiles and comfort teachers offered was rooted in safety and well-being, both now and in the future. This was expected and appreciated by parents as it signaled reassurance, portending a place in society, social status, and one day the fulfillment of an American Dream. Zack’s parents knew but thought little of how such opportunities were abundantly available in certain neighborhoods while scarce in others (Massey & Denton, 1993; Rury & Saatcioglu, 2011). All of this was of course lost on little Zack as he donned his favorite corduroys, grabbed his fireman-themed lunch box from his mom, and struggled with a backpack half his size.

The initiation Zack began that day serves a larger purpose: protecting The Covenant. Zack’s parents, Aaron and Denice, signed The Covenant years before he was born. They first planned and dreamed about a life governed by The Covenant as far back as their joyful engagement. They planned and played by a set of rules—get that kind of job, buy a house in one of those neighborhoods outside the city, send their kids to those schools—that guaranteed a certain place for Zack and his

younger sister, Lisa.1 They settled on the Cedar Grove neighborhood just west of the city. Aaron and Denice are among many white parents who choose to live suburban and segregated lives (Frankenburg et al., 2019; Lichter, Parisi, & Taquino, 2015).

Unlike other covenants, Aaron and Denice never formally signed this particular covenant. Instead, both assented to it through merely continuing the path they were set on by society.

All they had to do was not object and they became signees entitled to full, lifetime benefits. They both first experienced the benefits and protections of a life governed by The Covenant as children. Again and again, they decided to honor its simple rules as they grew older. To not do so was not only disadvantageous but also a form of traitorship and treason (Ignatiev & Garvey, 2014).

But what exactly is The Covenant? Unlike the constitution which stated “All men were created equal” —a reality not true for Black, Indigenous, and other People of Color, as well as women and those without property, The Covenant rings as true as it is powerful. It reads: 1. I will use the advantages and protections of being white without acknowledging them or questioning them.

2. In all I do, I will maintain racial colorblindness (BonillaSilva, 2003) while disconnecting the past from the present.

3. In all endeavors, I will assume individual merit and worth or a lack thereof.

Thus, to not honor The Covenant would be to forfeit advantages historically enshrined, or potentially worse, renounce these benefits as ill-gotten. Doing so would force Aaron and Denice to also confront the emotional and psychological weight of being beneficiaries of a deeply unequal society.2 This option is 1 The story points out the intersectional nature of marginalization (Crenshaw, 1991) by necessarily tying race to class. Issues like the degree of segregation white middle-class families typically choose to raise children in, school projects and activities requiring extra money, and the social capital gained through other experiences like museum or historical society visits, all showcase connections between race and class in this story.

2 White American families hands down what Coates (2017) calls the “bloody heirloom.” This heirloom overflows with ill-gotten advantages gained through genocidal dispossession, enslavement, brutal looting, and legal protections. Using moments from my own childhood, this work reckons with how white Americans come to accept and prize this heirloom. I expose

theoretically possible but seldom invoked, held in place by what can only be described as a distinctive spell. Some call it a dream (Coates, 2014) while others call it a “conspiracy of silence” (Wing Sue, 2015). However one describes it, its potency remains undeniable.

This potency is not without effort or ceaseless control.

Cracks in the conspiracy and doubts about the dream arise and must be managed. Some are managed predictably through schooling, segregation, the media, and policing while others arise less predictably and are addressed through silence or sharp correction (Fanon, 2008). The initiation Zack entered into was made necessary as soon as his parents assented to The Covenant. This initiation paves the way and makes the Covenant a formality for most.

Back at school, three weeks into the year came the muchanticipated picture day for Zack and his classmates. Thus far a colorblind story, the Cedar Grove kindergarten composite photo revealed a not-so-subtle truth: The Covenant was not open to most. The other 21 students looked like, and largely enjoyed the same class status as, Zack and his family: white and middle income.

Managing this potential crack was simple and preordained: a segregated neighborhood full of smiling white families was the norm and all young Zack knew. Tree-lined streets and plentiful parks surrounded young Zack with hues of vibrant green only matched by the ubiquitous whiteness of Cedar Grove residents. He never thought to question why this was or what led to it because it was all he knew.

As Zack advanced to first and then second grade, other powerful and innate controls supported The Covenant. Around this time, a physical and rhythmic force was one of the first measures of his initiation. With choreographed pageantry, Zack and his classmates learned, practiced, and performed “America The Beautiful” for the school community and adoring parents.

Subtle and joyful, this initiation was not what many expect when they envision an admission rite. Perhaps this is what gives it some of its power? Regardless, Zack and his classmates sang with a reverent passion: O beautiful for spacious skies, moments from my own childhood in an attempt to provide a counterstory that challenges the lie of post-racial American exceptionalism.

For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain!

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!

Zack couldn’t help but love the decorations, colors, and sounds as each grade performed a different song. Parents looked on with cameras, cherishing the moment. Without anyone saying it directly, Zack gathered that America was something remarkable and special—a country better than others and blessed with his God’s preordained grace.

Could America do any wrong?

Absolutely not!

The feeling was unshakable.

Zack, his classmates, teachers, and parents were upbeat and proud to live in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Who lived on the land and called it home for thousands of years previously and what happened to them were questions for the following year.

Zack’s initiation relied heavily on curriculum to address these questions as well as others. While he didn’t realize it, his curriculum was shaped by owing-class white interests and was itself a “racial text” (Castenell & Pinar, 1993) as opposed to a curriculum aimed at awareness of inequality or societal change (Banks, 1991). Third grade brought with it a unit on Indigenous communities. Each table group was responsible for researching and creating a model depicting a different Native nation or tribe to display around the classroom. Studying the past excited Zack as he learned about the Nez Perce and their simple but adventurous ways. He felt a subtle pride in comparison and remembered seeing something about these figures of the past when his parents took him to the Oregon Historical Society the previous summer. Zack could see why Native groups were no longer around as his teacher explained that the culture and religion of white American settlers were more advanced and less violent (Keenan, 2019). As teachers looked on and praised the work, colonization was reduced to “cool!” and Turtle Island to a toy. Zack skipped around the room exploring peers’ projects while consuming a history utterly silent on the imperialism, white

supremacy, and pursuit of material gain at the foundation of U.S. policies toward Indigenous nations (Brayboy, 2006).3 While Zack’s initiation had done its job intellectually by justifying American exceptionalism and the genocide of Indigenous peoples, fourth grade brought this home in a new way. Fourth grade was an important year for students at Cedar Grove because the Spring of fourth grade brought with it the Oregon Trail reenactment. Physically and symbolically adding to his initiation, Zack eagerly looked forward to Oregon Trail week as Winter turned to Spring. His parents joined in the initiation as they outfitted Zack with a cowboy hat and boots and his Red Flyer wagon with a canopy to serve as a wagon.

In groups of three, students traveled around the track circling the Cedar Grove field. They progressed through different obstacles and earned rewards for how quickly they conquered the challenges. After the adventure, Zack and others were given “land” as their reward based on how well they had performed challenges on the trail. The sense of adventure and competition gripped Zack as he set out with his group to claim as much land as possible, his fourth-grade self coursing with an excitement and entitlement shared by previous generations of white male settlers. Again, he learned not just intellectually but physically and emotionally what it meant to be superior while simultaneously claiming and justifying his position. “How great is it to be a pioneer?” he thought to himself. “How lucky am I to be an American!” he contemplated as he filled with pride.

Conclusion This piece invites reflection and action by pulling back the curtain on the social learning of white youth specifically and the social practices of white Americans more generally. We see the lessons Zack learns through three school experiences: a school assembly singing America the Beautiful, a class project on Native 3 Cultural racism directed at Indigenous peoples and the naturalization of racism are present throughout this story (Bonilla-Silva, 2014). Cultural racism is present in the way differences between white, European settlers and Indigenous nations and tribes are presented in schools as well as the characterization of Indigenous nations as only existing in the past; naturalization occurs through rituals and activities that exalt the status of the United States generally and settler colonialism and manifest destiny specifically. Lonetree (2012) explores similar themes in relation to museums.

nations and tribes, and a class activity recreating the Oregon Trail.

This story draws attention to how common ideas about racism and colonization are intimately linked to current material resources and conditions. The lessons Zack learns through schooling play an important role in justifying the dispossession of Native lands and vast racial inequality. Specifically, this story attempts to explicate ideological justifications for existing material arrangements and helps show why there are so few questions from white families about processes that continue to further racial inequality. This socialization is terribly powerful. It hides history. It precludes questions of justice. And it does this while celebrating histories stained with blood, violence, and unbridled inequality.

Critical Race Theory (CRT) addresses this morally corrupt socialization by directly challenging dominant ideology. Calling out dominant ideology is required because of the messages students like Zack receive through schooling.

Such ideas, summarize Solorzano and Yosso (2000), “camouflage the selfinterest, power, and privilege of dominant groups in U.S. society� (p. 41).

This piece challenges dominant ideology through revealing ways that dominant ideology is created and passed down from one generation to the next.

By making the camouflage visible, this story pulls back the curtain on dominant ideology, calling it out as artificial, far-from-objective, and created to benefit a few at the expense of many. The questions that follow build on the story and are offered as potential prompts for reflection and action.

Application Questions 1. This story compares the process of white racial socialization to an initiation. In what ways is this true? In what ways might this be limited? a. For white readers, what did your initiation include?

What specific messages, images, texts, comments, and rituals were part of your upbringing? How so? b. For BIPOC readers, what messages, images, texts, comments, and rituals do you find most common, harmful, or insidious? Why?

2. Three rules are provided as part of The Covenant that upholds white supremacy and settler colonialism in the United States.

Which of these stood out to you as particularly true or relevant? What rule might you add to this list? a. For white readers, what forms did these rules take for you throughout your childhood? How were these rules taught and modeled for you? Be specific. b. For white readers, what specific histories of advantage and oppression come to mind based on your ancestry? What specific histories do you want to learn more about as they relate to your family and ancestry? c. For BIPOC readers, what does/would it look like for white people to break with this covenant? What do you wish more white people understood about this covenant?

References Alexander, M. (2010). The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. New York: New Press.

Banks, J. A. (1991). A curriculum for empowerment, action, and change. In C. E. Sleeter (Ed.), Empowerment through multicultural education (pp. 125–141). Albany: State University of New York Press.

Bonilla-Silva, E. (2014). Racism without racists: Color-blind racism and the persistence of racial inequality in America.

New York, NY: Rowman & Littlefield.

Bonilla-Silva, E., Goar, C., & Embrick, D. G. (2006). When Whites flock together: The social psychology of White habitus.

Critical Sociology, 32(2-3), 229–253.

Brayboy, B.M.J. (2013). Tribal critical race theory: An origin story and future directions. In M. Lynn & A. D. Dixson (Eds.), Handbook of critical race theory in education (pp. 108– 120). New York, NY: Routledge.

Castenell, L. A. Jr, & Pinar, W. F. (Eds.). (1993). Understanding curriculum as racial text: Representations of identity and difference in education. Albany: State University of New York Press.

Coates, T. N. (2017). The first White president: The foundation of Donald Trump’s presidency is the negation of Barack Obama’s legacy. The Atlantic.

Crenshaw, K. Williams (1991). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity, politics, and violence against women of color. In Stanford Law Review (43)6, 1241-1299.

Fanon, F. (2008). Black skin, white masks. New York, NY: Grove Press.

Frankenberg, E., Ee, J., Ayscue, J. B., & Orfield, G. (2019).

Harming our common future: America’s segregated schools 65 Years after Brown. UCLA: Civil Rights Project.

Haggerman, M. (2018). White kids: Growing up with privilege in a racially divided America. New York: New York University Press.

Harro, B. (2000). The cycle of socialization. In M. Adams et al.

(Eds.), Readings for diversity and social justice (pp. 27–33).

New York, NY: Routledge.

Hughes, D., Rodriguez, J., Smith, E. P., Johnson, D. J., Stevenson, H. C., & Spicer, P. (2006). Parents’ ethnic-racial socialization practices: a review of research and directions for future study. Developmental Psychology, 42(5), 747– 770.

Ignatiev, N., & Garvey, J. (2014). Race traitor. New York, NY: Routledge.

Keenan, H. B. (2019). Selective memory: California mission history and the problem of historical violence in elementary school textbooks. Teachers College Record, 121(8), n8.

Lichter, D. T., Parisi, D., & Taquino, M. C. (2015). Toward a new macro-segregation? Decomposing segregation within and between metropolitan cities and suburbs. American Sociological Review, 80(4), 843–873.

Lonetree, A. (2012). Decolonizing Museums: Representing Native America in national and tribal museums. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Massey, D. S., & Denton, N. A. (1993). American apartheid: Segregation and the making of the underclass. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Rury, J. L., & Saatcioglu, A. (2011). Suburban advantage: Opportunity hoarding and secondary attainment in the postwar metropolitan North. American Journal of Education, 117(3), 307–342.

Solorzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2001). Critical race and LatCrit theory and method: Counter-storytelling. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(4), 471–495.

Sue, D. W. (2015). Race talk and the conspiracy of silence: Understanding and facilitating difficult dialogues on race.

New York, NY: Wiley.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title A Latina pursuing her medical dream (MD)

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/6v03r1f7

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Garcia, Katherine Arias

Publication Date 2020

Supplemental Material https://escholarship.org/uc/item/6v03r1f7#supplemental Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

A Latina Pursuing Her Medical Dream (MD) This counterstory focuses on the college environment and microaggressions that a first-generation college Latinx premed student encounters in higher education. The tool of storytelling, a technique that centralizes the stories and voices of marginalized groups (Delgado, 1989), is employed to share the counterstory of Diana. Diana and her family come from a Mexican-American background and currently reside in Los Angeles. Her family experienced early on interactions with healthcare professional because her brother was born with cerebral palsy. Both her family and early exposure to health issues influenced Diana’s interest and pursuit of medicine. This counterstory begins with Diana’s first day of college and reveals Diana’s classroom experiences in Chemistry 100.

Using Critical Race Theory, specifically the tenet of intercentricity of race and racism is used in the storytelling and analysis in order to unpack Diana’s pursuit of becoming a doctor.

Diana’s counterstory goes beyond the traditional narrative of Science, Technology, Engineering, Math (STEM) students of color as underrepresented in STEM and academically lagging behind in the STEM field. Instead, the counterstory reveals obstacles encountered in a predominantly white institution, such as issues with the campus climate and science culture that contribute to students of color academic self-concept and persistence in the sciences. Also, this narrative highlights the supportive role of Latino parents that is often missing from the Latinx undergraduate college experience.

Diana Pursuing Her Medical Dream The time finally came for Diana to go off to college. Diana was excited and nervous; she was the first person in her family to go to college.1 Leaving home was going to be difficult for her, but her parents have always reminded Diana about the 1

Like many Latinx students in higher education, Diana is first in her family to attend college. Her college experiences in college differs from the traditional college student (Gándara & Contreras, 2009). Latinx students in higher education are 44% first-generation college status (Excelencia in Education, 2019).

importance of education in the United States. Diana is MexicanAmerican and grew up in the city of Los Angeles. Her parents migrated to the United States from Mexico in the 1980s. Both of her parents work two jobs to support the family. She has two younger brothers—Javier is in high school and Luis is about to enter high school.

Luis was born with cerebral palsy, a neurological development disorder, that impacted his bone development and life abilities. Luis’s condition impacted the whole family, especially Diana. Since her parents worked day and night, as the eldest sibling she was the main source of support in the household for both of her younger siblings. Diana helped take care of Luis at home and attended every doctor visit with him. During the doctor visits, Diana translates in Spanish for her parents, because the doctors do not know how to speak Spanish.2 Diana feels uncomfortable at times translating and wants to make sure that every single word is translated correctly. She learned a lot from her family experiences in the hospital and this is where her passion for medicine sparked. 3 Diana’s dream is to become a doctor in the future to help Latinx families like her own. But Diana does not know any doctors and

2

The latest report from UC Latino Policy & Politics Initiative (2019), provides data on physician language concordance. The rate of Spanish physicians to Limited English Proficiency (LEP) population is 959 to 100,000; Spanish and Lao have the lowest rates, (UC LPPI, 2019). UC Latino Policy & Politics Initiative (2019) states, “There is an overwhelming need for Spanish language proficient physicians in rural California and in counties with Latino populations that comprise half or more of the general population” (p. 4).

3 The family background provides a greater understanding of why students from an underrepresented background pursue medicine. Diana’s family experiences with non-Spanish physicians have impacted her motives to pursue medicine in order to become a bilingual and bicultural physician.

These experiences and motives are different from the dominant narrative of premed students, which is a science major student whose parents are physicians.

she is not sure how to become one. 4 All she knows is that she needs to be a science major once in college.

First Day of College The first day of classes, Diana arrived to a large lecture hall for her Chemistry 100 course.5 There were over 300 undergrads in the course. Diana did not know where to sit, she did not know anybody and it seemed to her that everyone was in groups talking to one another. She finds an empty seat and asks the student next to it if she can sit there, but they tell her that they are saving the seat for someone else. Diana feels embarrassed and continues to walk, she finds another empty seat but again, she is told that the seat is taken. Finally, she decides to sit in the back row of the classroom. Diana looks around, to find a familiar face, a friendly face, a face that looks like her. However, as Diana looks around the classroom, she realizes that everyone in the classroom is either White or Asian. But Diana keeps looking around and gets excited as she spots across the room another Latino male student and a Black female student. 6 She tells herself that for the next session, she will go sit with them on the other side of the classroom.

4

California has a Latinx physician shortage. California only has 5% Latinx physicians to serve the increasing Latinx population of 40% Latinx community (Coffman, Geyn, Fix, & Lee, 2017). As the population becomes more diverse, the need for culturally competent and bilingual physicians grows in the United States. Diversifying the physician workforce is key to serving the Latinx community and reducing health disparities (Vogt & Taninco, 2008). For instance, students from underrepresented backgrounds are more likely to work as a physician in underserved urban and rural communities (Mitchell & Lassiter, 2006).

5 Premeds undergrads follow a prescribed premed curriculum which includes a heavy emphasis on science courses such as chemistry, biology and physics. These classic science courses are part of the historical curriculum of medicine that centers a positivism point of view on educational matters as objective.

6 The lack of diversity of underrepresented students in higher education not only reflects the lack of students of color in the classrooms, but also the longstanding impact of admissions policies. For instance, California universities cannot use race and ethnicity as part of the application review process through the passing of Proposition 209. Proposition 209 had and continues to have an impact on enrollment of students of color in higher education (Contreras, 2005).

Class begins promptly at 9 a.m., when an older white male walks into the classroom and begins writing on the board. He says, “My name is Dr. Peterson and this is Chemistry 100.” Dr. Peterson goes on to tell the students that this is an important class for all the premeds. He states, “If you don’t pass this course with a B, then you should forget about a career in medicine.” Diana, immediately gets nervous, she sits up and begins to write on her notebook, Don’t Fail. Then, Dr. Peterson states that this course is based on a curve 7: “You will have two exams and each exam is based on a curve, your grades will be on a curve, whatever the highest grade is in the class will be the maximum grade.” Dr. Peterson warns the students, “You all must really think about whether or not to remain enrolled in this course, half of this class always fails and my exams are difficult.

So, your only option is to sink or swim in this course.”8 Self-doubt and Family Support Diana immediately begins to reconsider the Chemistry 100 course. She wonders, should she drop the class? Should she change her major? Is she cut out for a career in medicine? Is she smart enough? Diana looks around the class and thinks to herself, “I am going to struggle.” She wants to get out of her chair and go back to her dorms. But she tells herself that she can’t. Instead, Diana reminds herself that she can do it and her dream is to become a doctor, to be that doctor that her family desired, that knows Spanish and knows to work with Latino 7

Students from underrepresented backgrounds attain lower grade point averages in science courses, which are known as “gateway” or “weeder” courses for weeding out students from pursuing the sciences (Alexander, Chen, & Grumbach, 2009; Barr, Gonzalez, & Wanat, 2008; Tyson, Borman, & Hanson, 2007). For premeds, science course grades and grade point average (GPA) are significant in determining medical school admission.

8 The “sink or swim” approach reflects the faculty’s pedagogy and beliefs about education. Faculty are representative of the university and they construct the classroom environment. The use of a curve promotes students competing against one another instead of fostering a collaborative learning environment. In addition, the professor did not validate students’ academic abilities; rather, the professor warned the students that half of them will fail the course. Although, Diana is academically capable of excelling in the science course, we begin to see Diana doubt her academic abilities. Diana’s doubts arise, not because of the course content, but because of the competitive environment that is created by the faculty.

families. Diana is feeling nervous and is not enjoying her time in the class, but decides to stay in the course.

After class, Diana walks to her dorm and calls her mom.

Diana says to her mom, “Mom, hoy no me fue bien, y creo que voy a dejar la clase de Chemistry.” 9 Her mom responds, “Pero mija, como puede ser? Tú eres inteligente, ¡la más inteligente!

Toda la familia te está apoyando y rezando por ti, y con Dios tú puedes hacer todo. Tu padre y yo nos hemos sacrificado mucho por ti, tienes que seguir échandole ganas.”10 Diana immediately feels comforted from her mom’s words. 11 Diana tells her mom that she will continue in Chemistry.

Science Lab The following day, Diana begins the lab portion of the Chemistry 100 course. Diana enters the lab and sees a young graduate student, he is the Teaching Assistant (TA) standing in the front of the classroom. The TA explains that the students need to form small lab teams and complete all of the day’s tasks.

Again, Diana is feeling uncomfortable—she doesn’t know anyone in the classroom and groups begin to form quickly. Diana turns to her side, she introduces herself and says, “Hi, I’m Diana, can I join your group?” The group of students look at Diana with a confused look, they ask her, “Did you take AP Chemistry and what was your score?” Diana tells them, “No, I took honors Chemistry because my school didn’t offer AP Chemistry.” 11 The 9

Translation: “Mom, today did not go well and I am thinking about dropping my Chemistry course.”

10 Translation: “But my dear daughter, how could this be, you are so intelligent, the most intelligent person. The entire family is supporting and praying for you. With God, you can do anything. Your family and I have sacrificed so much for you, you need to keep moving forward.”

11 The dialogue between Diana and her mother provide a glimpse into the Latinx maternal role in higher education. Diana’s mother’s words of encouragement serve as a source of support for Diana. Students of color have various familial assets that provide support to students (Yosso, 2005).

Yosso’s Community Cultural Wealth model (2005) views students of color entering the college environment with cultural assets that are not traditionally seen by educators as important in a student’s trajectory in schooling. Familial assets include precollege network of students such as family and extended family support via storytelling, sayings/dichos, advice/consejos, and more.

Dichos and consejos are sayings and familial stories that provide strength and guidance (Delgado Bernal, 2001).

group tells her, “We need smart people in our group, you can’t be in our group.”12 Diana quickly feels ashamed and goes to another group. Diana ask, “Hi, can I join your group?” The group of students just look at her and say, “No, our group is full.” Diana is feeling frustrated and now just sits in her chair. The TA looks around and states, “if you don’t have a group come up to the front.” Diana gets up and goes to the front. Three students also walk to the front. The TA states, “you all are now a group.”

Diana introduces herself to the group and they all begin to do their lab work. Diana’s group members do not talk to one another. Before the class period ended, one of the group members ask, “did you all finish?” and the rest of the group said “yeah, we are done.” Diana tells the group, “Yeah I finished too,” but she is actually confused about the lab assignment and some of the science terms. Diana does not tell her group she is not done. She decides to finish later in the night.

Final Grade Fall quarter goes by quickly and soon the ten weeks are over. Diana did not like the class. She hated going to lecture and lab because she always felt behind and she did not feel comfortable asking questions. Every time she went to class, she felt that she had to prove her academic abilities and felt isolated in the classroom.13 She made two friends in the class, but one of 12

Diana’s response to her classmate highlights the issue of access to AP courses. In her high school, AP courses were not an option. Latinx students are disproportionately represented in Advance Placement (AP) courses due to lack of AP course offering in schools that are in low-income neighborhoods and majority Latinx and Black students (Solorzano & Ornelas, 2004).

13 This section highlights microaggressions inside the science classroom. Diana’s classmates refused to let her join their lab group based on their assumptions of her academic abilities and appearance as a brown student on campus. Diana is told that they are looking for a smart student to join their group; in other words, an assessment has been done on Diana based on her lack of access to AP courses. This is an example of an interpersonal microaggression, which attacks a Latina’s presence in the campus (Yosso, Smith, Ceja, & Solórzano, 2009). Using a Critical Race Theory framework, the tenet of centrality of racism in U.S. society (Bonilla-Silva, 1997) allows for an analysis of the peer interactions and recognition of the existence of racial microaggressions inside the classroom.

The CRT tenets allows us to understand the historical context of racism as part of the campus history,

them, a Black female dropped out of class after the midterm.

Diana struggled the whole quarter with the material. In her first exam, she received a low C, for her second exam a D. Her final grade was a D. Diana did not pass the course.14 Conclusion This counterstory is used to provide greater insight to the lived experiences of a Latinx premed science student in higher education. This counterstory is inspired by my students that I have had the privilege working and mentoring in their pursuit of medicine. When writing Diana’s story, I applied my professional experience and personal experience of racism I encountered in higher education. I employ the concept of “cultural intuition” by Delgado Bernal (1998) which recognizes that Chicana/Latina scholars bring with them their personal and professional experiences to the research process and writing.

My goal in writing and sharing Diana’s counterstory is to honor my students’ racial experiences, dreams, and to challenge culture and policies of institutions of higher education (Hurtado, ClaytonPedersen, Allen, & Milem, 1998). The lack of diversity on the campus is part of the historical exclusion through admissions policies. Furthermore, the experiences and perceptions of microagressions in the classroom environment impact students’persistence in a science major (Hurtado & Carter, 1997).

Thus, a racial analysis of peer interactions through a CRT framework is needed in order to untangle and bring to light the negative peer interactions and microaggresions inside the classroom environment.

14 Diana’s perceptions and feelings of proving her academic abilities and isolation contribute to her sense of belonging on campus and in the sciences. Sense of belonging is a complex psychological measure that captures students’ perceptions of their environment (Hurtado & Carter, 1997).

Sense of belonging contributes to both persistence and retention of students of color in higher education (Hurtado & Carter, 1997; Tinto, 1993). In addition, Hurtado and Carter highlight the important role of faculty in creating meaningful relationships between faculty and students. Thus, faculty play an important role in developing a student’s sense of belonging.

The decision to end this counterstory with the final Chemistry grade of D, a non-passing grade, was chosen in order to remain authentic to the final classroom barriers that many students of color experience in the sciences.

This is not the final point of the story. Grades in science courses are key in students’ persistence in science majors (Barr et al., 2008).

Academic challenges in the early science courses during freshmen and sophomore years leads to students changing both their major and their career paths to pursue a non-STEM career (Crisp, Nora, & Taggart, 2009).

readers to understand holistically the racial lives of students of color. Using a Critical Race Theory framework, that centers the racialized experience of students of color, the tool of storytelling is employed to center the voice of Diana and her college experiences. This narrative provides a different lens to the dominant story of academically underprepared students of color in the sciences that leave the sciences because of their low grades. The dominant narrative defines Latinx students by their academic metrics such as GPA and SAT scores.

Diana’s counterstory reveals racism that Latinx students face in the classroom environment and that impact their academics and engagement with the university. Diana’s narrative shifts the focus from student’s academics to institutional matters of racial campus climate.

The STEM learning environment is an area that needs further research because of the impact on students’ of color persistence in STEM. In Diana’s narrative, the white male faculty constructed a competitive learning environment that created competition amongst the students through the grading system of grading on a curve. A competitive learning environment in the sciences may promote individualism, which may impact persistence of Latinx STEM students. Also, higher education researchers have stressed the importance of interactions between students and faculty members for retention and student development (Astin, 1993; Pascarella & Terenzini, 2005). The messaging of the professor has a great impact on Diana’s academic self-concept, as her first concerns immediately turn towards failure and reconsidering her major and career goals.

Thus, the STEM environment and faculty interactions must be examined through the perspective of students of color in order to reveal occurrences of racism, microaggressions and culture clash within the STEM learning environment.

Lastly, Diana’s counterstory is a story of resistance of Latinx premed students in higher education. Students of color enter higher education with assets such as familial assets that provide sources of support to students (Yosso, 2005). Latinx familial assets includes words of encouragement, advice/consejos and sayings/dichos within the Latinx culture.

Diana’s narrative demonstrates the pivotal role of her mom’s words in her persistence in the Chemistry course. The traditional dominant views on first-generation students and their families’

knowledge on college experiences are presented as limited, uninterested, and uninvolved. For this counterstory, Diana’s mother has no experience with the college environment, but Diana’s mom is still able to be a strong source of familial support. Although, Diana had many personal and academic struggles in higher education, she persisted through the premed science courses. Her academic struggles continued in medical school, but she persisted and obtained her Medical Degree (MD).

Diana is currently a Family Medicine Resident Physician in the Los Angeles area. She is now a practicing physician in a Latino community.

References Alexander, C., Chen, E., & Grumbach, K. (2009). How leaky is the health career pipeline? Minority student achievement in college gateway courses. Academic Medicine, 84(6), 797– 802.

Astin, A. W. (1993). What matters in college. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-bass.

Barr, D. A., Gonzalez, M. E., & Wanat, S. F. (2008). The leaky pipeline: Factors associated with early decline in interest in premedical studies among underrepresented minority undergraduate students. Academic Medicine, 83(5), 503– 511.

Bonilla-Silva, E. (1997). Rethinking racism: Toward a structural interpretation. American Sociological Review, 62(3), 465– 480.

Coffman, J., Geyn, I,, Fix, M., & Lee, P. (2017). California physicians: Who they are, how they practice. California Health Care Foundation by Institute for Health Policy Studies, University of California, San Francisco.

Contreras, F. E. (2005). The reconstruction of merit postProposition 209. Educational Policy, 19(2), 371–395.

Crisp, G., Nora, A., & Taggart, A. (2009). Student characteristics, pre-college, college, and environmental factors as predictors of majoring in and earning a STEM degree: An analysis of students attending a Hispanic serving institution. American Educational Research Journal, 46(4), 924–942.

Delgado, R. (1989). Storytelling for oppositionists and others: A Plea for narrative. Michigan Law Review, 87(8), 2411–2441.

Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Learning and living pedagogies of the home: The mestiza consciousness of Chicana students.

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(5), 623–639.

Excelencia in Education. (April 2019). Latinos in higher education: Compilation of fast facts. Washington, D.C.: Excelencia in Education.

Gándara, P. C., & Contreras, F. (2009). The Latino education crisis: The consequences of failed social policies.

Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Hurtado, S., & Carter, D. F. (1997). Effects of college transition and perceptions of the campus racial climate on Latino college students' sense of belonging. Sociology of Education, 70(4), 324–345.

Hurtado, S., Clayton-Pedersen, A. R., Allen, W. R., & Milem, J. F. (1998). Enhancing campus climates for racial/ethnic diversity: Educational policy and practice. The Review of Higher Education, 21(3), 279–302.

Mitchell, D. A., & Lassiter, S. L. (2006). Addressing health care disparities and increasing workforce diversity: The next step for the dental, medical, and public health professions.

American Journal of Public Health, 96(12), 2093–2097.

Pascarella, E. T., & Terenzini, P. T. (2005). How college affects students: 21st century evidence that higher education works. New York, NY: John Wiley & Sons.

Solorzano, D. G., & Ornelas, A. (2004). A critical race analysis of Latina/o and African American advanced placement enrollment in public high schools. The High School Journal, 87(3), 15–26.

Tinto, V. (1993). Leaving college: Rethinking the causes and cures of student attrition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Tyson, W., Lee, R., Borman, K. M., & Hanson, M. A. (2007).

Science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) pathways: High school science and math coursework and postsecondary degree attainment. Journal of Education for Students Placed at Risk, 12(3), 243–270.

Vogt, R., & Taningco, M. T. (2008). Latina & Latino nurses: Why are there so few? A TRPI summary report. Los Angeles, CA: The Tomás Rivera Policy Institute.

Yosso, T. J. (2005). Whose culture has capital? A critical race theory discussion of community cultural wealth. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 69–91.

Yosso, T., Smith, W., Ceja, M., & Solórzano, D. (2009). Critical race theory, racial microaggressions, and campus racial climate for Latina/o undergraduates. Harvard Educational Review, 79(4), 659–691.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title The price we pay

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/9bv1552g

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Gates, Zaynab Amelia

Publication Date 2020

Supplemental Material https://escholarship.org/uc/item/9bv1552g#supplemental Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

The Price We Pay The following is a counterstory (Delgado, 1989) whose protagonist is an Indigenous medical doctor in Argentina reflecting on the decisions made before him and by himself that allowed him to attain higher education. The protagonist recalls his grandfather’s decision to move out of their Indigenous community and closer to a criollo’s1 town. He poignantly remembers his mother’s and his own educational experiences. Following three generations, this counterstory illustrates the challenging nature of formal education for Indigenous families. Theoretically, the counterstory draws from some tenets of Tribal Critical Theory (Brayboy, 2006), specifically, the endemic nature of colonization and the role of assimilation policies towards Indigenous communities.

The purpose of this story is to gain a deeper understanding of the difficult path for Indigenous people when entering the formal educational system. While education contributes to the development of individual capacities and talents, historically it has demanded the abandonment of cultural practices, languages, and values not deemed conducive to being a member of mainstream society. However, this counterstory also highlights Indigenous agency to decide how to nurture Indigenous identity and a sense of service to our community. Last, it explores the concept of Indigenous futurities (Teuton, 2018), and the impact that our ideas about more just futures might have on present-day decision making, at the individual and societal level. The protagonist’s questions invite like-minded individuals to work toward providing meaning and constructing those possible futures.

The Fire During the days before the fire I had been home for six hours.

Enough to see my mom, my sister, my lively nine-month-old niece, to eat homemade empanadas, and drink some mates. I had barely enough time to take a shower and have a brief siesta.2 I like going home—I feel my

1

In Argentina and throughout Latin America, criollos is used to refer to people who are of multi-racial descent. A criollo town would be a non-Indigenous town that identifies with Argentinian national identity.

2 Empanadas is a pastry turnover filled with meat and baked. Mate is a popular and traditional infused drink, prepared with the yerba-mate leaves, a heritage from the

mother’s pride radiating from her usually stern eyes. That Monday, the day of the fire, I had gone back to work for a 24-hour shift at the hospital when a little after midday, smoke started to come out of the vent ducts. Nurses called the emergency line and, luckily, firefighters and ambulances arrived within a few minutes. Meanwhile, in the absence of a ramp, we had to carry the patients down the stairs. I was able to carry three intensive care patients before firemen took over. When I stopped to breathe, I realized I was the only doctor among the male nurses and janitorial staff carrying patients. Do not get me wrong, I don’t regret my actions, and everybody—doctors, nurses, staff—helped as much as they could. Yet, it got me thinking.3 I have carried many things in my life: logs, cement bags, furniture, a girlfriend. For money or by choice. My arms have served me well. Yet, with the fire I felt again as I have felt many times before: a nobody. As Galeano writes, those “who have no face but have arms.”4 I thought of my

Guaraní and Tupí Indigenous people. Siesta is a short nap taken after lunch and before going back to work.

3

This story is a composite. I follow Delgado’s (1989) definition of counterstories as stories that challenge received wisdom, in this case problematizing the relationship between formal schooling and Indigenous populations. I invite the reader to suspend judgment and engage with other perspectives and life stories, in this case, one not frequently written about. While I model the story after Solorzano and Yosso (2000) and Leticia’s counterstory, I am trying to summarize in three generations the conflicting nature of the relationship between the Argentinian state and the Indigenous peoples of Salta, a Northern state in Argentina.

Through the story I illustrate three tenets of Tribal Critical Race Theory in Education (Brayboy, 2006) and extend them to be used in Latin American contexts: “(1) Colonization is endemic to society, (2) Government policies towards Indigenous peoples are rooted in imperialism, White supremacy, and a desire for material gain, and (6) Governmental policies and educational policies toward Indigenous peoples are intimately linked around the problematic goal of assimilation” (p. 429).

4 Poem The Nobodies by Eduardo Galeano (1989): The Nobodies Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream of escaping poverty: that one magical day good luck will suddenly rain down on them–will rain down in buckets.

But good luck doesn’t rain down yesterday, today,

Los Nadies Sueñan las pulgas con comprarse un perro y sueñan los nadies con salir de pobres, que algún mágico día llueva de pronto la buena suerte, que llueva a cántaros la buena suerte; pero la buena suerte no llueve ayer, ni hoy,

friends and cousins, who are only hired when trees must be cut down to be paid a few pesos for a day’s work. Who, as day laborers, become complicit in the destruction of the same forest5 that once provided shelter,

tomorrow, or ever.

Good luck doesn’t even fall in a fine drizzle, no matter how hard the nobodies summon it, even if their left hand is tickling, or if they begin the new day with their right foot, or start the new year with a change of brooms.

ni mañana, ni nunca, ni en lloviznita cae del cielo la buena suerte, por mucho que los nadies la llamen y aunque les pique la mano izquierda, o se levanten con el pie derecho, o empiecen el año cambiando de escoba.

The nobodies: nobody’s children, owners of nothing.

The nobodies: the no ones, the nobodied, running after the carrot, dying their lives, fucked, double-fucked.

Who are not, even when they are.

Who don’t speak languages, but rather dialects.

Who don’t follow religions, but rather superstitions.

Who don’t do art, but rather crafts.

Who don’t practice culture, but rather folklore.

Who are not human, but rather human resources.

Who have no face but have arms, who have no name, but rather a number.

Who don’t appear in the universal history books, but rather in the police pages of the local press.

The nobodies, the ones who are worth less than the bullet that kills them.

Los nadies: los hijos de nadie, los dueños de nada.

Los nadies: los ningunos, los ninguneados, corriendo la liebre, muriendo la vida, jodidos, rejodidos: Que no son, aunque sean.

Que no hablan idiomas, sino dialectos.

Que no profesan religiones, sino supersticiones.

Que no hacen arte, sino artesanía.

Que no practican cultura, sino folklore.

Que no son seres humanos, sino recursos humanos.

Que no tienen cara, sino brazos.

Que no tienen nombre, sino número.

Que no figuran en la historia universal, sino en la crónica roja de la prensa local.

Los nadies, que cuestan menos que la bala que los mata.

Galeano’s poem expresses the de-humanization process through which poor communities around the globe are deprived of individuality. By referencing dialects, crafts, and folklore the author indirectly alludes to the Indigenous communities that are so present in Latin America yet who are ignored by the political and economic powers.

5 According to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) Argentina is among the ten countries in the world with the highest deforestation rate. In

sustenance, and connection to our people, the Wichí.6 I thought of my uncles who have to travel to the cities for temporary work in construction, are cheated of honest payment, and come back with only a few months’ worth of money to buy rice, cheap noodles, and some shoes. We all share the same faceless arms.

Yet, my luck has turned quite a bit. I am doctor and half of all Wichí doctors in this country. There are only two of us.7 For two hundred years, the Argentine Republic did not graduate any other Wichí doctor and still has not. Instead, Cuba offered full scholarships to study medicine.8 In return, after graduation I was required to work for marginalized populations. So, I applied, got my passport, and travelled by plane knowing that I was going to live in a distant island for at least six years without coming back. See, the scholarship did not cover visits to my home country. I went there and many times throughout the years thought I would not make it through the program. It took me longer than expected, but I did make it. I came back.

the last 25 years, 7.6 million ha (18.78 million ac) of forest have been lost at a rate of 300,000 ha per year (approx. 740,000 ac), with a concentration in the north region where the province of Salta is situated. Main causes are intensive livestock, transgenic soybean plantation and forest fires. Although since the sanction of a forest protection law in 2007 deforestation has slowed down, in Salta particularly, illegal deforestation, irregular government approval of land use documents, and slave labor are rampant (Greenpeace, 2016; Ministry of Environment and Sustainable Development, 2017). Following and extending Tribal Critical Theory, I illustrate how government policies toward Indigenous peoples are rooted in imperialism, White supremacy, and the desire for material gain (Brayboy, 2006). However, at the same time, Indigenous people are forced to become complicit to the extractivist economic model due to poverty and lack of other possibilities to earn salaries.

6

The Wichí (Matacos or Wichí-Weenhyek) is one of 35 Indigenous people officially recognized by the Argentinean Government. The 2012 Census showed that 3.03% of the 40 million Argentineans (i.e., approximately 1.2 million people) are considered belonging to Indigenous groups (INDEC, 2010). Among them, 50,000 declared to be WichíWeenhayek, which made them the sixth largest Indigenous group in the country, after the Mapuche, Qom, Guarani, Kolla, and Quechua (Weiss, Engelman, & Valverde, 2013).

However, estimates range from 40,000 up to 80,000.

7 To date, only two self-identified Wichí have graduated as medical doctors (Rodríguez & Martínez, 2008).

8 Cuba, through its Escuela Latinoamericana de Medicina (ELAM) [Latin American School of Medicine] funded in 1999 has granted scholarships to youth from underprivileged backgrounds to study medicine with the condition of working for marginalized populations once they graduate. It is estimated that close to 30,000 youth from 103 countries in Latin America, North America, Asia, and Africa have graduated (Dwamena, 2018; “Graduados en la ELAM más de 28 mil 500 médicos de 103 paises,” 2017).

Did all of me came back? Where did I come back to? And how did I change? Certainly, I did not travel alone. The strength of many that lived before me were my companions. Nor did I stay alone. I could see again the deep and extended roots of those beliefs that label me in subtle and overt ways as inferior and less-than. But there were also the open eyes and extended hands of classmates from different origins, nationalities, and races, who in their hearts knew that we all share the same faces and the same arms.9 I am grateful but often wonder, what price did I paid for my education? I did not pay with money, but slowly my perspective about the world shifted. I cannot think about Latin America’s challenges without seeing it as the background of a fight between the evils of capitalism and the promise of socialism, as a secular re-edition of the eternal religious conflict between darkness and light. My worldview is now framed by dialectic materialism without being able to fully embrace it. I resist it because I am not able to name my Wichí words and think my Wichí thoughts. Where do my grandparents’ language, stories and dreams fit in this story about class struggles? The price I paid for my education was the color of my ideas.10 My Grandfather Was that what my grandfather had in mind when, six decades ago, he moved out of the community to a criollos’ town? My unschooled grandfather had been beaten during his mandatory military service for not

9

Indigenous people face discrimination at the individual and systemic level, daily and throughout their lives. For that reason, community plays a sustaining role. In this case, the protagonist finds friendship and support from people of different racial and national backgrounds. What they have in common is a belief in the equal dignity of all human beings. I draw from Smith and Thomas’ (2019) concept of the “other tradition” that identifies how, throughout American history, collaboration among people of different races based on the principle of the organic oneness and unity of humankind has contributed to transformative social action. The authors describe how this tradition has been a constant parallel to the social construction of racism in America.

10 Following Tribal Critical Theory, I pose on this story that given the endemic nature of colonization (Brayboy, 2006), access and success in the educational system demands of Indigenous students to embrace ideologies and concepts that do not address nor are equipped to answer the goal of cultural identity preservation while participating in a diverse and modern society.

obeying the Spanish commands that he did not understand.11 He learned that criollos had arrived with no intention of leaving, and he saw how they became stronger. In his heart he both admired and despised them, he was grateful to them and scared of them.

My grandfather saw how they became owners of the land and set the rules, but he also admired how some shared their knowledge and were also worried about their common future, their lives intertwined with the Wichís.

He despised the brutality and violence of others. He was both grateful for the new things that he had learned and scared for his children’s future. It was his deep desire for his children to master Spanish, to acquire knowledge, and to be able to stand up for themselves that motivated his decision to leave behind the sacred spot where he had started his family and venture to uncharted territory. What sparked his decision, I cannot say for sure. He did not explain it to me. Times were changing, perhaps he knew that his children needed more tools, maybe a new way of being Wichí, and at the very least they had to be able to defend and protect themselves and their families.

My aunt has told me, many times, how she remembers that long eight-hour walk. It started before dawn, so they would arrive at their destination before noon. How the smallest ones got tired and had to be lifted onto their older siblings’ shoulders. How, even though they came back many times to visit, from that day forward their home was transplanted closer to the White people’s world, their lives bonded.12 In my mind, that decision had the force of a catapult throwing the lives of his children and grandchildren forward in unexpected and unpredictable trajectories. The price they paid for my education was the sweet smell and warmth of our home. None of his children went back to live in the land that saw their birth.

11

During the first half of the twentieth century, state agencies in Argentina aimed at the proletarianization of indigenous groups through land confiscations and forced labor recruitment, implemented assimilation policies also through the mandatory military service and religious conversion to Christian denominations. The main goal was the making of civilized subjects (Hirsch & Gordillo, 2003). As Critical Tribal Theory states, governmental and educational policies toward Indigenous peoples are intimately linked around the problematic goal of assimilation (Brayboy, 2006).

12 Forced migration from rural areas to towns and cities started in 1960 due to the expansion of the agro-industrial complex, the erosion of traditional territory, and the incorporation of Indigenous peoples to wage labor (Rodríguez Mir, 2006). These processes have accelerated since the instauration of a neoliberal economic model in the 1990. It is estimated that currently 7 out of 10 Indigenous people live in urban areas, often in the poorest conditions, and their ethnic identities are ignored or discriminated against at schools and neighborhoods (Weiss et al., 2013).

My Mother What price did my aunts and uncles, my own mother, pay for their education? They were forbidden to speak Wichí, called names, and treated as dumb creatures. They were the first suspect of theft if anything went missing, they were hit by teachers and classmates, and forced to repeat grades. They were humiliated and shamed by their looks, smell, clothes, and accent.13 Some found a kind teacher, and teachers with some kind moments. Yet, most of them deserted school before a few years went by.14 Some were also captivated by the world of letters and sounds, numbers and drawings on the blackboard, the smell of paper and the color of ink. Their hearts torn between love and hate for the school. To capture the Spanish alphabet, they had to let go of the lullabies that my grandmother sang to them. The price they paid for their education was the music of Wichí sounds.15 For a while it worked, but when their arms became strong enough to work the paths that seemed to have been opened to them by the school, those paths were closed once again. Without a high school degree, they were condemned to menial jobs. My aunts became maids and cooks; my uncles masons, gardeners, or farm workers, always paid less than others.

In the end, each took their own path, started their own family, and decided how to be a Wichí or not.

13

Since the creation of the Latin American republics, the building and strengthening of a national identity has been one of the primary goals of schooling (Hirsch & Gordillo, 2003). After a period of territorial expansion and genocide, forced assimilation followed. A monolingual assimilationist educational system was the state policy until 1990 (Hirsch & Serrudo, 2010). This is the period reference by the life experiences of this generation.

14 The Wichí-Weenhayek people have been historically marginalized, have a high poverty index, and have faced a systematic exclusion of basic governmental services (UNICEF, 2009). According to a study focused on the Wichí and Guaraní communities conducted by UNICEF in the Argentinean province of Formosa, 48.3% of the WichíWeenhayek Argentinean population have not completed elementary education and 19.9% do not have any formal instruction.

15 The sociolinguistic situation of the Wichí-Weenhayek people is complex. The latest comprehensive studies estimate close to 40,000 speakers and 94% of the selfidentified Wichí speaking the language (Censabella, 2009). However, there is a displacement of Wichí by Spanish with pockets of high intergenerational transmission in rural areas (Ballena & Unamuno, 2017). Present day policies show a changing landscape that has made possible the formation of Wichí Intercultural Bilingual teachers and the study of how schools and Wichí families are facing the challenge of bilingual schools (Hetch, 2006).

I think my grandmother and older aunts had it worse. With little Spanish, the women in my family washed other people’s clothes, cooked other people’s meals, carried other people’s babies, and lovingly nurtured other people’s families. They also gave birth to their own children, loving them according to their situation and capacity. They tried to keep the Wichí words alive. They told and retold the story of how the celestial beings, khates or star-women, came from the sky to eat the fish that the men had caught, and decided to stay and start families with them.16 They kept weaving stories as they combed their daughters’ hair, filling their heads with past dreams and future hopes.17 My Future Children So here I am now, a week after the fire. Working alongside doctors, nurses, and staff to reconstruct our hospital. Cleaning and painting. Still carrying the heaviest objects and showing those that have never hammered a nail, how to do it; mistakenly addressed as a construction worker by volunteers, never seen first as a doctor.18 As I clean and paint, I think. What will the dreams and prayers of my grandfather become? Was he able to imagine a new Wichí reality, different yet connected to our ancestors, our land, our neighbors? Changing forms but keeping its essence?19 Could he see a new reality built also with others

16

There are several versions of this creation story by the Wichí people. I reference Wichí intellectual Lecko Zamora’s (2009) version. In his book, he explores the need to reconnect to this knowledge and express it in actions that honor a deep sense of equality between men and women found in Wichí stories.

17 Stories within the Indigenous peoples have a central role as a source of identity, spiritual strength and theory-building. TribCrit poses that—contrary to limited views of scientific research—when working in/with Indigenous communities we must honor “stories and oral knowledge as real and legitimate forms of data and ways of beings” (Brayboy, 2006, p. 439). Also, “stories are not separate from theory; they make up theory” (p. 430).

18 In connection with the protagonist first thoughts about being perceived as faceless arms, this anecdote highlights a form of interpersonal microaggression (Yosso, Smith, Ceja, & Solorzano, 2009) when individuals from non-dominant ethnic groups access privileged positions, such as the social regard for a medical degree, to be mistaken for menial jobs. This type of “confusion” reinforces the idea that these individuals do not belong and are an anomaly to the social order.

19

Through this series of questions, the main character is exploring the concept of Indigenous futurities. I borrow this concept from literature studies: “Indigenous futurity” considers how indigenous revivals might be viewed as expressions of “futurity,” operating in resistance to those assumptions that consign Native American peoples and lifeways to the past . . . Whatever the form, contemporary Native poets look to oral literature and its

who can see our full and shared humanity? And built for others who also dream and yearn for justice? Like a bow that threw its arrow as far as possible, where will his decision, and our decisions, land us?

I wonder how my grandfather’s dreams of knowledge—education for his children and grandchildren, education from both White culture and Wichí culture—has transformed us? Are we the protagonist of our future now? I am not sure what the future holds, in my heart there is a fire born of seeing so many injustices, but also born out of love for the ones that are no longer here and the ones that will come.

And I am not alone.

Bright days, they will come.

The days when the Wichí will dance, they will come.

The flowers from the trees, they will come.

The time of the fish, they will come.

It is the time of the women-star.

It is now.

Jwala ta i’sí, I’nam’lá.

Jwala ta Wichí i’khoyenla, I’nam’lá.

Hálai lhawolh, I’nam’lá.

Wahát hwai, I’nam’lá.

Atsinay khates hway.

Jwalas ná.20

Discussion Overall, this story explores the relationships between the past and future of a Wichí family, and the interplay between knowledge, identity, and agency through three generations. The grandparent’s generation, the first one in this story, was the object of physical violence and evangelization, often denied basic rights such as education. The second generation, the

long-held understanding of language as a source of change. Such poetry not only frees Native American voices but confirms a spiritual awareness of ancestral land and community. Native American writers in all genres express an Indigenous world in all its complexity” (Teuton, 2018, p. 101). While this might look as a simple discursive intervention, by its contrasting nature with other condemnations to “disappearance” or complete assimilation, they open the possibility of constructing a different future, therefore re-signifying present-day actions. It is important to note that this discursive move should not be viewed as a negation of the difficult current material realities, such as land dispossession, poverty, exclusion, and other injustices. However, the projection of the being into the future reaffirms Indigenous communities’ will to exercise individual and collective agency in pursuit of constructing a better reality for the next generations.

20 Poem by Lecko Zamora, Wichí intellectual and writer.

parent’s generation, was the object of an assimilation project that deprived them of their language and forced them to participate in the national economy as the poorest among the poor. The present generation, the third one in the story, has achieved the highest educational degree but neither speaks the language nor lives in their traditional territories. While the counterstory denounces the forces of assimilation, it also highlights the transformative effect of formal education opportunities and the role of Indigenous agency to sustain identity, community, and the will to build a different society.

It also highlights how we might explore the decolonization of our futures. That is, through the concepts of Indigenous futurity—expressed by the protagonist questions and the quoted poem by Wichí intellectual, writer and artist Lecko Zamora—we are invited to imagine a different future, one built outside the logic of colonization. This exercise should not be interpreted as a denial of the current unjust realities. However, drawing from the deep spiritual forces that have sustained Indigenous communities for centuries, Indigenous futurities nurture a vision of a just, prosperous and peaceful future for Indigenous and all peoples, that should directly impact present-day decisions at the individual and societal level.

References Ballena, C., & Unamuno, V. (2017). Challenge from the margins. New uses and meanings of written practices in Wichi. AILA Review 30, 120–143.

Brayboy, B. (2006). Toward a tribal critical race theory in education. The Urban Review, 37(5), 425–446.

Censabella, M. (2009). Chacho. In I. Sichra (Ed.), Atlas sociolingüístico de los pueblos indígenas de América Latina [Sociolinguistic Atlas of the Indigenous Peoples of Latin America]. La Paz, Bolivia: UNICEF. Delgado, R. (1989). Storytelling for oppositionists and others: a plea for narrative. Michigan Law Review, 87(8), 2411–2441.

Galeano, E. (1989). El libro de los abrazos [The Book of Hugs].

Translated by Cedric Belfrage. México: Siglo XXI. Graduados en la ELAM más de 28 mil 500 médicos de 103 paises. (2017, July 22). CubaDebate. Retrieved from http://www.cubadebate.cu/ Dwamena, A. (2018, June 6). Why African-American doctors are choosing to study medicine in Cuba. The New Yorker. Retrieved from https://www.newyorker.com/ Greenpeace. (2016). Desmontes S.A. Parte 3. El mapa del delito forestal en Argentina [Deforestation Inc. Part 3. The map of forest crime in Argentina]. Buenos Aires: Greenpeace.

Hetch, A. (2006). De la familia wichí a la Escuela Intercultural Bilingüe [From the Wichí family to the Intercultural Bilingual School].

Cuadernos Interculturales, 4(6), 93–113.

Ministry of Environment and Sustainable Development. (2017). Monitoreo de la superficie de bosque nativo de la República Argentina.

Edición Marzo 2017 [Monitoring of the surface of Native Forest in Argentina. March 2017 Edition]. Buenos Aires: UMSEF. Hirsch, S., & Gordillo, G. (2003). Indigenous Struggles and Contested Identities in Argentina. Histories of Invisibilization and Reemergence. The Journal of Latin American Anthropology, 8(3), 4–30.

Hirsch, S., & Serrudo, A. (2010). La Educación Intercultural Bilingüe en Argentina. Identidades, lenguas y protagonistas [Bilingual Intercultural Education in Argentina: Identities, Languages and Protagonists]. Buenos Aires, Argentina: Novaduc.

Rodríguez Mir, J. (2006). Los Wichí en las fronteras de la civilización [Wichí in the borders of civilization]. Quito: Abya-Yala.

Rodríguez, D., y Martínez, L., (February 8, 2008) Indígena wichí que estudia medicina en Cuba [Wichí indigenous youth studies medicine in Cuba]. Vanguardia. Retrieved from https://jimenariveros.wordpress.com/2012/02/08/indigena-wichique-estudia-medicina-en-cuba/ Smith, W., & Thomas, R. (2019). Race amity: America’s other tradition. A primer. Sudbury, MA: Shining Light Press.

Solorzano, D., & Yosso, T. (2000). Toward a critical race theory of Chicana and Chicano education. In C. Tejeda, C. Martinez, & Z. Leonardo (Eds.), Charting new terrains of Chicana (o)/Latina (o) education (pp. 35–65). Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press.

Teuton, S. (2018). Native American literature: A very short introduction.

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

UNICEF. (2009). Los pueblos indígenas en Argentina y el derecho a la educación. Situación socioeducativa de niñas, niños y adolescentes de comunidades rurales wichí y mbyá guaraní [Indigenous Peoples of Argentina and the Right to Education.

Socio-educational Situation of Children and Adolescents in the Wichí and Mbyá Guaraní Rural Communities]. Buenos Aires, Argentina: UNICEF. Weiss, L., Engelman, J., & Valverde, S. (2013). Pueblos Indígenas Urbanos en Argentina: un estado de la cuestión [Urban Indigenous peoples in Argentina: A review]. Revista Pilquen, 15(16), 1–14.

Yosso, T., Smith, W., Ceja, M., & Solorzano, D. (2009). Critical race theory, racial microaggressions, and campus racial climate for Latina/a undergraduates. Harvard Educational Review, 79(4), 659– 690.

Zamora, L. (2009). Ecos de la resistencia [Echoes of the resistance].

Resistencia, Argentina: Instituto de Cultura de la Provincia de Chaco.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title Pop: A Critical Race Story of Racialized Violence in America

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/2zc0p8n1

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author RogersJr, Kirk D

Publication Date 2020

Supplemental Material https://escholarship.org/uc/item/2zc0p8n1#supplemental Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

Pop: A Critical Race Story of Racialized Violence in America To be Black in America is to be looked at as aggressive, as inhuman; something to fear. The news is riddled with names of those who have had the kinds of encounters with police that we have become numb to. Any of their stories could have been used to exemplify the endemic nature of racism in this country.

Much like the other stories in this edition, this work draws from the tenets of Critical Race Theory (CRT) to humanize and to centralize the voices of the historically marginalized. Specifically focusing on the intercentricity of race and racism, this story sheds light on the types of racialized violence that have become almost normalized in this country and calls for us to question and critique the status quo.

Inspired By and Loosely Based on a True Story Nathaniel “Nate” Johnson, a newly retired veteran of the U.S. Marines, was fresh off his final tour. He was working his first shift as a bouncer at the Blue Lagoon and had only been there a couple of hours when Dylann Stephens and his friends arrived in the parking lot. Dylann Stephens was the quintessential entitled townsman who grew up in a neighboring suburb without having to work for much. He was also a regular at the Blue Lagoon, known for spending an exorbitant amount of money at the bar.

Because of this, Mr. Stephens felt entitled to behave as he wanted, often treating the staff of the Blue Lagoon with little respect.

Nate had heard nothing of Dylann’s previous interactions at the Blue Lagoon, but as Mr. Stephens and his friends approached the entrance to the club, Nate could immediately tell that they were going to be trouble. “ID, please” requests Nate in an even tone. “You must be new here,” Dylann responds as his friends snicker and groan behind him. “First day,” remarks Nate, coolly. “ID,” Nate reiterates while holding out his hand, firmly. “Here!” exclaims Dylann, as he reaches into his wallet and takes out his license, tossing it aggressively in Nate’s direction. “I come here all the time,” hissed Dylann, angrily. Nate catches the ID and flicks on the light of his

flashlight so that he can get a better look at the identification that was just thrown by the slim white figure standing before him. Nate scans the ID to make sure it is legitimate, and hands it back to Dylann. He then proceeds to thoroughly check the identification of Dylann’s friends as well.

When their IDs all check out, Nate steps aside and says, “Thanks, you may go in.”

Nate opens the door, allowing Dylann’s friends to enter into the establishment. The last to enter, Dylann hesitates for a moment, staring at Nate incredulously. As he approaches the door, an overpowering whiff of whiskey and Marlboros burns in Nate’s nostrils. The guy was already plastered. Dylann, who is now swaying like a tall slender tree caught in a breeze, looks like he could topple over at any moment. Dylann moves closer to Nate with the same look of incredulousness on his face. Before crossing the threshold and stumbling into the club, Dylann leans in close enough for Nate to feel his hot breath on his ear as he utters a word that would make any Black person’s blood boil with rage. “N****r”1 says Dylann,2 intentionally slamming his shoulder into Nate, hard, causing Nate to stammer backwards a few steps. Dylann crosses the threshold and leaves Nate behind to watch him traipse unsteadily into the establishment and up to the bar, as if nothing had happened and as if all was now right with the world. 3 Nate stiffens; brows furrowed and eyes fixed onto Dylann and his friends as they converge on the bar, his entire body as tense as a board with gritted teeth and clenched hands. Nate is on the verge of following after the white culprit to find out if he had heard him correctly, and then lay hands on him, when a warm, kind voice interrupts his thoughts.

1

I chose to not spell out the N-word as it has a triggering effect on many people, including myself.

2 The N-word has been used as a racist slur since the 1800s. Over the years it would seem that open use of the word has decreased, but recently, especially in this more openly racialized Trump-era, the brazen use of the word is making a comeback (Bendix, 2017; Harvard, 2016; Nestel, 2016; Randle, 2018).

3 This is a prime example of the endemic nature of racism in this country (Bell, 1992; Solorzano & Yosso, 2000), a major tenet of Critical Race Theory (CRT). This initial interaction between Dylann and Nate exemplifies how acts of racism are ordinary occurrences for Black people and mean very little to the white American perpetrators.

“They always find a way to make a fool of themselves,” the woman says as Nate quickly turns his head, startled, having not noticed that anyone else was standing there. He sees Tina, who appears to be of Latin descent, dressed in a form-fitting black dress and wearing a shimmering silver tiara with the words “Birthday Girl” etched into the center of the wiring. She also dons a glittery golden sash that reads “Finally Twenty-One” written in fancy cursive. Apparently, Tina had been standing nearby as Dylann and his friends entered, bearing witness to the entire situation. “ID, please” booms Nate, evenly. “I’m so sorry for what he just said. Some people just don’t know how to treat others,” Tina remarks as she bashfully hands Nate her ID. “Just turned 21, huh?” says Nate, softening his tone and relaxing his shoulders with a slight smirk on his face. “Yep! Today is my birthday! I’m here with some of my friends to celebrate,” responds Tina. “Enjoy it! You only turn 21 once . . . ” Nate says, and then hesitates, face darkening into a more serious grimace. “. . . and don’t worry about him. I’ve heard worse.” Tina takes her ID back and smiles genuinely as Nate smiles back. “He grabbed my friend Yasmin’s butt a few minutes ago and slurred something rude and probably racist under his breath,” she says.

“But she didn’t want to make a big deal or anything. We want a drama-free night tonight. It is my birthday after all!” “Well, if he bothers you any more tonight, just let me know,” Nate replies.

After making sure that all of her friends’ IDs had been checked, Tina enters the Blue Lagoon, friends in tow, and saunters towards the bar. Her sash and tiara glisten in the darkness as she walks, parting the sea of dancing silhouettes as Tina and her friends move through the small crowd. “Dang,” Nate thinks to himself, “to be 21 again . . . I met Nakia around that time . . . . where has the time gone? We’ve been married for almost 20 years now!”

His shift continues without a hitch, and Nate begins to feel at ease as more and more patrons arrive, presenting identification without issue. The sting of the incident with Dylann has lessened and their interaction begins to feel like a distant memory. Inside, Tina is buzzed and having a decent time. This is her first time being out in a club in a while. Yasmin and the rest of their friends had convinced her to come out tonight, even though she insisted on staying in. Now that she was out, Tina was taking advantage of all of the attention her tiara and sash

were giving her. “Shots!” Yasmin screams, handing her a shot of something dark that looked thick like molasses and smelled like licorice. Tina looks at the small glass with uncertainty. “It’s Jäger . . . . The guys over there just bought them for us!” says Yasmin, yelling to be heard over the music. Tina downs the shot in one gulp. “Who?” she says. “The guys from earlier!” replies Yasmin nonchalantly. Tina looks at her friend with a perplexed expression on her face. “Wait, the dude that grabbed your butt?” says Tina in disbelief. “Yep! But I don’t think he remembers . . . . He was buying everyone shots at the bar” she says, as she hands Tina another shot. “Down this one and let’s see if we can get another one . . . it’s your birthday, girl!” responds Yasmin. Tina reluctantly does as she’s told and downs the new drink in a couple of gulps, trying her best not to gag.

They find a spot for their empty glasses and abandon them as they begin to weave through the crowd. As they move, Tina glances around in amazement, trailing closely behind her friends.

The place had gotten really packed! The group meanders through the crowd until they reach the section of the bar that Dylann and his friends had claimed as their own. “Hey, it’s my friend’s birthday!” says Yasmin. Dylann turns to look at Tina and Yasmin, eyeing them like a lion eyes its prey. 4 “You want a drink?” asks Dylann. “We just ordered Fireball shots, grab one of these!” He hands both ladies a shot, not waiting for an answer.

“She got a name?” he says to Yasmin. “It’s Tina,” replies Tina.

“Alright Tina, Cheers!” says Dylann.5 The trio take the shots without hesitation. “Let’s go dance! That’s my song!” screams Yasmin, as she shuffles excitedly over to the dance floor. The others follow. Tina is turning to follow suit when she suddenly 4

The fetishization of young Women of Color is quite common with members of the white dominant culture. Throughout history, as European settlers moved to colonize the world, many African, Indigenous, and Latin American women were raped as their communities were conquered and destroyed. The white male has the tendency to use his power to assert dominance over Women of Color, and this is seen in Dylann’s interactions with Tina and Yasmin.

5 Another relevant tenet of CRT is the intersectional relationship between race and gender. Race and racism are central themes of this story, but they also overlap with gender dynamics. Dylann’s interactions are both highly racialized and highly gendered, but in his interactions with Tina and her friend Yasmin, Dylann was able to set aside his racist ideology because they were “pretty girls in dresses.”

feels a warm and clammy hand forcefully latch onto her wrist.

Tina turns and sees that the hand belongs to Dylann. “What are you doing?” he bellows. “You’re not gonna dance with me? I just bought you a drink!”

Tina pauses before responding, choosing her words carefully. “No thanks. I’m all set,” she declares. “. . . But I appreciate the drink! I’ve never had Fireball before . . . . It was really good, thank you!” Dylann’s grip tightens, “Just one dance!” he retorts. Noticing the struggle, one of Tina’s male friends comes over to intervene. “Tina, you alright?” he asks, knocking Dylann’s hand away. “Don’t touch me, you dirty illegal!” shouts Dylann.6 Everything after that is a blur. A scuffle ensues and all Tina can do is try and move out of the way.

Back outside, Nate is anticipating the end of his shift. It is 1:30 a.m. and the bar is still packed. Since they are not allowing anyone else inside, the line at the entrance has dissipated.

Suddenly, Nate hears one of the staff members inside yell, “Nate! Get in here!” Nate jumps into action, busting open the doors to the Blue Lagoon and wading through the hordes of people towards the source of the commotion. The lights are now on and the music has stopped.

He sees several security members struggling to hold Dylann against the bar. There is broken glass, ice, and spilled drinks all over the floor. Dylann’s face is bloody and his clothes and hair are disheveled. He had clearly gotten himself into trouble again. “Get him outta here!” yells Nate. “He’s done.” The guys holding Dylann struggle to get him out to the parking lot, leaving Nate behind to examine the scene. He spots Tina and her friends not too far away, looking shook up. Nate walks over to them. “What happened?” he asks. “He was trying to dance with me, I said no and then he started shouting racist stuff at me and my friends, then they just started fighting,” Tina explained with an exasperated look on her face. “I was trying to defuse the situation but…”

Pop. 6

Another example of the intersectional relationship between race and gender. As soon as one of Tina’s male Latino friends intervened, Dylann made note of his ethnicity by hurling a racialized slur. This anti-immigrant sentiment expressed by Dylann also demonstrates the intercentricity of race and racism when he calls Tina’s male friend an “illegal” simply because of his ethnicity. This sentiment is often utilized conveniently by white Americans to criminalize Latinx people and “other” them.

Pop. Pop. Nate flinches. He had heard that all too familiar sound before, but not here...not on U.S. soil. “Geeeeet dooooown!” Nate yells at no one in particular yet everyone at the same time. The crowd scatters frantically as people look for places to take cover.

Nate turns around to see Dylann walking towards them, gun in hand, with an eerie look of determination on his face. Dylann and Nate’s eyes meet. Dylann looks at him and hesitates. He then aims the gun directly at Nate and pulls the trigger three more times.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Nate lunges out of the way just in time but in his periphery, he sees someone drop. He crouches behind a table. Dylann walks closer and continues firing.

Pop. Pop. Nate can hear people screaming and crying and running. The smell of gunpowder is in the air and Dylann’s gun is still smoking as he fires a few more rounds.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Dylann continues walking through the crowd, edging closer to Nate’s hiding spot.

Pop. Dylann inches closer.

Pop. Pop. “He’s got to be almost out of bullets,” Nate thinks. Nate sees an opening as Dylann passes by the table that Nate is hiding behind.

Pop. Click.

“He’s out,” Nate thinks as he sneaks around the table and finds himself right behind Dylann. He tackles Dylann and the gun clatters to the floor. Nate grabs the gun and shoves his knee into Dylann’s back and his elbow into his neck. “Don’t move!” he booms. Dylann struggles a bit but ultimately cannot move.

Feeling that he has the culprit incapacitated, Nate takes a moment to survey the area. Something catches his eye. A crimson soaked sash with the words “Finally Twenty-One” lays on the ground. There are several bodies nearby, unmoving.

Nate reaches for his cellphone.

“FREEZE!” says an unfamiliar voice.

“DROP YOUR WEAPON!” Nate freezes, startled. He realizes how this must look. Nate begins to turn. “I SAID DON’T MOVE!” says the voice.

“Look, I work here officer.7 I’m a security guard for this bar and I’ve already apprehended the suspect.” In that moment Nate remembers he has his security badge on. He reaches for the badge which is dangling from his neck.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Nate drops to the ground, stunned. “YOU OK, SIR?” the officer runs to check on Dylann, 8 who is still on his stomach, and helps him to his feet as he investigates the surrounding area.

“SUSPECT DOWN” the officer bellows into his radio. 9 Nate’s eyes fall shut as images pop into his head. Nakia. The moment he proposed. Their wedding day. The births of their two kids. The purchase of their first home. Memories continue to flash before Nate’s eyes as a warm pool forms around him and everything fades to black.

END. 7

Throughout history, the Black community has had a tense relationship with the police. The historical roots of law enforcement sprouted during the times of slavery.

8 Another, more glaring example that demonstrates the permanence of racism in our country. The officer made a snap judgement as he surveyed the scene, observing that there were several victims and a potential assailant with a weapon who was possibly reaching for another. In the cop’s eyes, the only possible villain to this story had to be the Black man in front of him. There was no other option.

9 The fact that the officer checked on Dylann after shooting Nate with no question about who the culprit could be is a direct result of the criminalization of Black men that has become ingrained in the minds of the general public.

Discussion On Sunday, November 11, 2018, another innocent Black man was killed by the police. This time the crime took place in the city of Robbins, Illinois. The young man, 26-year-old Jemel Roberson, was working as a security guard at “Manny’s Blue Room Bar” at the time of his murder (Gardner, 2018). Similar to Nate in my story, Jemel was murdered because the responding officers mistakenly took him for the suspect instead of the hero. 10 We live in a world where the threat of being killed by a cop as a Black person is astronomical, yet Black people are positioned as the ones to be feared. Instead of being deemed the hero of this story, Jemel (and Nate) ultimately became the victims of yet another act of racialized violence against the Black community committed by the police.

Jemel’s death was the inspiration for this particular story, but there are countless additional victims who have fallen at the hands of the police. Any of their stories could have been used to exemplify the endemic nature of racism in this country (Bell, 1992; Solorzano & Yosso, 2000) and its manifestation in the form of police brutality. In recent years, there have been countless police shootings of unarmed Black men, women, and children.

Oscar Grant, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Freddie Gray, Sandra Bland, Alton Sterling, Atatiana Jefferson, Michael Brown, Botham Jean, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd and countless others have been murdered living their lives while being Black. These names are important and should be remembered. Their souls may be at rest, but the pain is everlasting, with the culprits hardly ever facing justice.

The legacy of colonialism, white supremacy, and institutional racism continues to plague this country. If you open your eyes and take a look around, you can bear witness to the persisting remnants of colonialism, white supremacy, and institutional racism. You will also see how angry and fed up and physically, mentally, and emotionally drained Black people are.

Why is it that in this country a Black man is more likely to be 10

According to witnesses, Jemel had reportedly asked a few drunk patrons to leave and one of them returned with a gun, injuring at least four people (Grossman, 2018). Jemel returned fire and eventually apprehended the suspect (Lockhart, 2018). His fate was the same as Nate’s in this story; murdered because he was “mistaken” as the suspect instead of the hero.

murdered by a police officer or thrown in jail than to go to college? How is it that the Black body is criminalized in such a manner that Black students cannot even attend schools without being over scrutinized and over disciplined? 11 What does it mean to bring a Black child into a world that hates them? What are the conversations that Black parents have had to have generation after generation to attempt to protect their children from the centuries of hatred and anti-Blackness (Dumas, 2015) that has culminated from the intercentricity of race and racism in this country? And what are the conversations that are not being had by white parents to their white children, by teachers in schools, and by society writ large about institutional racism?

Although race is a social construct, it is very real for Black people. As a Black male, I have seen race and racism present itself in the way people walk faster or lock their doors when a Black person walks behind them, or in the ways police criminalize and hyper surveil the behaviors of the Black community.

We can witness the impacts of race in the commentary surrounding the protests and looting during the 2020 George Floyd riots.12 It appears in the disproportionate numbers of Black folks diagnosed and killed by Covid-19. 13 It can be seen in the ways predominantly Black schools have inadequate and inequitable resources and how Black students are more likely to be placed in special education classrooms than in gifted classrooms (Ford, 2014; The Education Trust-West, 2015). It shows in the “bootstraps logic� of many folks who deem Black people lazy and unworthy of help or opportunity. It is evident in the ways that four-year colleges and universities regularly deny Black applicants, funneling them into the community college pipeline, which in many ways pushes them further away from their goals. It is demonstrated in deficit-based 11

Black children (boys especially) are being disciplined out of classrooms at alarming rates (Wood, Harris, & Howard, 2018).

12 George Floyd was murdered by a white police officer for allegedly trying to use a forged twenty-dollar bill. The police officers proceeded to forcefully arrest him and killed him in the process while literally kneeling on his neck to hold him in place as if he were an animal. Following the unlawful death of unarmed George Floyd, protests erupted in Minnesota and across the nation (CNN, 2020).

13 The 2020 Covid-19 pandemic resulted in the disproportionate numbers of Black deaths across the nation due to systemic racism and disparities in access to quality health care (Ellis, 2020).

narratives inspired by academic research done on Black communities instead of for or with Black communities. It is seen in the prisons that are filled with Black and Brown bodies and in the way marijuana legalization is making white people even more wealthy while Black people are still rotting in prisons for drug-related crimes (Resing, 2019).

There are countless other manners in which race and racism manifests within the daily lives of Black people in this country. One example is how Black protestors are vilified and threatened by Mr. Trump for protesting injustices that have gone on for far too long. 14 Yet white protestors have been allowed to protest stay at home orders related to the Covid-19 pandemic with guns and were heralded for their actions by the current president.15 Furthermore, white supremacists were in many ways vindicated by the president for their protests even when they’ve led to catastrophic events and multiple casualties.16 In this counterstory, Dylann Stephens17 represents a composite of the entitled white men who have incited fear and terror through mass shootings in this country and who we rarely deem “the problem.”

Instead, white domestic terrorists are seen as “mentally ill” rather than as the criminals that they are. Even following the vile acts they have committed, it is typical these white shooters take their own lives or are apprehended alive 14

On May 29, 2020, Donald Trump tweeted “when the looting starts, the shooting starts” in response to the George Floyd protests. This comment dates back to the 1960s, a statement made by a Miami police chief that was denounced and heavily criticized by the NAACP and other Civil Rights activists at the time for inciting violence (Wines, 2020).

15 In response to the Coronavirus shutdowns and stay at home orders, white protestors rallied in Michigan toting guns. The president tweeted “LIBERATE MICHIGAN” in response to these protestors, seemingly because they were white and supporters of Trump’s vision to re-open the economy before medical experts advised (Liptak, 2020).

16 Following the violent outcomes after protests in Charlottesville, Virginia regarding the removal of a Confederate statue, Mr. Trump claimed there were “good people on both sides” (Shear & Haberman, 2017). However, many of the protestors were neo-Nazis and members of the Ku Klux Klan, groups known for their hatred of and violence towards Black people and People of Color.

17 This name was created by combining the first and middle names of white domestic terrorists Dylann Roof, the white supremacist charged with committing a mass shooting in a Black church in Charleston, South Carolina, and Connor Stephen Betts, the 24-year-old who shot and killed nine people, including his own sister, at a bar in Dayton, Ohio.

instead of being murdered by the police. Unfortunately, for Black people, we are not given the same benefit of the doubt.

Black victims of unarmed police shootings are instantly criminalized and deemed deserving of their fates. The public uses any reason to excuse and dismiss the cop’s criminal actions ultimately resulting in the acquittals of the officers, leaving justice unserved for the victims of racial injustice and police brutality.

The tense relationship between the Black community and the police sprouted during the times of slavery. Slave patrols which were responsible for tracking runaway slaves and quelling slave riots, were the template for the very first police officers (Carter, 2015). It is no wonder that law enforcement has become synonymous with the over-policing of Black and Brown bodies. It was by design. However, the resiliency of the Black community is something to be revered. With centuries of hatred, biased laws and policies, and unfair advantages for other racialized groups, the Black community is still alive and thriving. Black people have learned to navigate the system in ways that very few groups have had to, and it is the resiliency of the Black community that makes us strong. The resilience of the Black community is what gives me hope that Jemel and the other victims of racialized violence and police brutality will become more than mere stories. I hope their sacrifices will act as the impetus for a new direction for Black people in this country; a direction that will include our collective liberation from the bonds of social and racial injustice. I envision a world where all members of the Black community can live freely without fear of being “lynched” 18 by police officers who are charged with the mantra “to protect and serve.”

I invite the readers of this special issue to imagine this new world with me. I also challenge you all to confront the racist notions this country was built upon, in order to make room for the new world that we all deserve—one with a foundation of collectivist mindsets and shared understanding. This new world must also be built in opposition to the racist, anti-Black ideologies that have steered this country away from justice.

With the 2020 protests reverberating around the world, we can 18

Police killings of unarmed Black women, men and children have been rightfully likened to lynchings during slavery and the Jim Crow era (McLaughlin, 2020).

be hopeful for collective change. Yet the aims of the movements of today will not be met until all Black lives matter.

References Bell, D. A. (1992). Racial realism. Connecticut Law Review, 24(2), 893–910.

Bendix, A. (2017, May 31). LeBron James responds to racist vandalism of his L.A. home. The Atlantic. Retrieved from https://www.theatlantic.com/news/archive/2017/05/lebronjames-responds-to-racist-vandalism-of-his-la-home/528771/ Carter, S. L. (2015, October 29). Policing and oppression have a long history. Bloomberg Opinion. Retrieved from https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2015-10-29/po licing-and-oppression-have-a-long-history CNN. (2020, June 3). Protests across America after George Floyd’s death. Retrieved from https://www.cnn.com/2020/05/27/us/gallery/george-floyddemonstrations/index.html Dumas, M. J. (2015). Against the dark: Antiblackness in education policy and discourse. Theory Into Practice, 55(1), 11–19. https://doi.org/10.1080/00405841.2016.1116852 (The) Education Trust-West (2013). Black minds matter: Supporting the educational success of Black children in California. Oakland, CA. Ellis, E. G. (2020, May 2). Covid-19 Is killing Black people unequally—don’t be surprised. Wired. Retrieved from https://www.wired.com/story/covid-19-coronavirus-racialdisparities/ Ford, D. Y. (2014). Segregation and the underrepresentation of Blacks and Hispanics in gifted education: Social inequality and deficit paradigms. Roeper Review, 36(3), 143–154.

Gardner, J. (2018, November 12). Armed security guard killed by police officer responding to shooting. NBC News. Retrieved from https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/armedsecurity-guard-killed-police-officer-responding-shootingn935311 Grossman, J. (2018, November 12). Black bouncer killed by cops responding to bar shooting. Newser. Retrieved from http:// www.newser.com/story/267161/black-bouncer-killed-bycops-responding-to-bar-shooting.html

Harvard, S. A. (2016, December 14). Michigan firefighter fired for calling Black woman “n----r,” saying “go back to the field.”

Mic. Liptak, K. (2020, May 1). Trump tweets support for Michigan protesters, some of whom were armed, as 2020 stress mounts. CNN Politics. Retrieved from https://www.cnn.com/ 2020/05/01/politics/donald-trump-michigan-gretchenwhitmer-protests/index.html Lockhart, P. R. (2018, November 15). A Black security guard caught a shooting suspect -- only to be shot by police minutes later. Vox. Retrieved from https://www.vox.com/identities/2018/11/12/18088874/jeme l-roberson-police-shooting-security-guard-illinois McLaughlin, E. C. (2020, June 3). America's legacy of lynching isn’t all history. Many say it’s still happening today. CNN. Retrieved from https://apple.news/Ab_0XX47NT9Gifx8FTrp54w Nestel, M. L. (2016, February 12). Lawsuit: School won’t punish student for calling classmate N-word over and over. The Daily Beast. Retrieved from https://www.thedailybeast.com/lawsuit-school-wont-punishstudent-for-calling-classmate-n-word-over-and-over Randle, A. (2018, May 2). Teen “distraught and upset” after KCarea IHOP server prints N-word on her receipt. The Kansas City Star. Retrieved from https://www.kansascity.com/news/local/article210217154.h tml Resing, C. (2019, April 20). Marijuana legalization is a racial justice issue. ACLU. Retrieved from https://www.aclu.org/blog/criminal-law-reform/drug-lawreform/marijuana-legalization-racial-justice-issue Shear, M. D., & Haberman, M. (2017, August 15). Trump defends initial remarks on Charlottesville: Again blames “both sides.” The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2017/08/15/us/politics/trumppress-conference-charlottesville.html Solorzano, D., & Yosso, T. (2000). Toward a critical race theory of Chicana and Chicano education. In C. Tejeda, C. Martinez, & Z. Leonardo (Eds.), Charting new terrains of Chicana (o)/ Latina (o) education (pp. 35–65). Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press.

Wines, M. (2020, May 29). “Looting� comment from Trump dates back to racial unrest of the 1960s. The New York Times.

Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/29/us/looting-startsshooting-starts.html Wood, J. L., Harris, F. III, & Howard, T. C. (2018). Get out! Black male suspensions in California public schools. San Diego, CA: Community College Equity Assessment Lab and the UCLA Black Male Institute.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title The Daily Dose: The End to Social Inequity

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/3fs599mq

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Stephens, Ramon

Publication Date 2020

Supplemental Material https://escholarship.org/uc/item/3fs599mq#supplemental Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

The Daily Dose: The End to Social Inequity The story takes place in a country referred to as “The Colony.” It is based in a post-social justice (meaning post-racial, post-sexist, post-classist, etc.) dystopian future. A medical pill referred to as “the daily dose” or “daily” has ended all forms of social discrimination, incurable illness and psychological disorders.

The daily can be absorbed in multiple ways. For example, it can be consumed topically into the skin (similar to that of rubbing alcohol), it can be injected or it can also be taken in pill form. It was initially dispersed and consumed only once a year in large doses via injection. However, updates are continually made to the medicinal content on a weekly basis to combat disease evolution and the discovery of new harmful pathogens.

The daily is administered and monitored by the colony. The medication is delivered via mail or it can be picked up at any local pharmacy, drug store or doctor for free. Updates to the daily have also been made to its application procedure. Devices that deploy the daily directly into the skin topically, or via injection, are generally employed. These devices are preferred because the disbursement and consumption of this medicine can easily be tracked and sent back to a local government database to understand when and if people are taking the medicine.

When the daily was first invented it was a pill, although we could monitor the disbursement we could not monitor the consumption of it. By monitoring the consumption, we can provide updated “space certifications” for businesses and homes. These certifications require citizens to have their medical delivery device scanned at entry points of businesses or public areas prior to accessing them. These devices provide evidence of daily and recent usage through a digital signature that is verified electronically. If you cannot provide the signature, you do not gain access.

The certifications are mandated by the health and safety act, and are used as a filter to foster healthy and safe spaces for all colony citizens. The purpose is not to exclude “non-pill takers,” they are a minority in the colony and are extremely vulnerable. The purpose behind the bill is to protect this marginal group. Because “non-pill takers” don’t take the daily, they aren’t

protected from harmful traces of the disease that may linger on the clothes or belongings of “daily users.”

Scout, a slender young Black male ranger, has been recently assigned to an elite domestic anti-terrorism unit in the Colony’s militia. Scout is a promising new recruit; he finished at the top 1% of his class at the academy and recently graduated from a prestigious University where he studied political science and anti-terrorism. The unit’s primary objective entails identifying and eliminating new terror cells posed by an enemy threat of non-human bi-pedal organisms, named “termites.”

There have been recent break-ins at local grocery stores and hospitals. Termites live just outside the city border and are perceived as the primary threat behind the civil unrest and the safety of the residents in the city of Ceuta.

Act I - The Calling Spectre, commanding Ranger of the army battalion, says over the loudspeaker: Weapons up! There was a recent break-in at a local corner store, in the bordering city of Ceuta. All kinds of things got stolen, the locals think it’s the termites. Everyone take your daily and suit up, we move out in 30 minutes!

Spectre: Looks like you’re getting your first live termite hunt!

[Troops begin to proceed outside.] Remember if you see a termite . . . shoot to take! This is the real deal.

When the military arrives at Ceuta, a group of locals is waiting to report the crime to the local military police.

Local #1: It must have been termites, I didn’t see them but I heard them, it had to have been them!

Local #2: I spoke with the store owners and they are throwing out all the food and moving to a new location. Ya know, this used to be a really nice town until the termites started showing up. First, it was just one here and there but now it’s just too much.

Scout: What did they steal?

Local #1: They stole parts from our refrigerator coolers, we have no idea why.

Scout: Did you happen to see which way they went?

Local #1: Footprints are heading left, you must stop them. We have children and we are scared.

Spectre is a former resident of Ceuta and is highly respected amongst the locals. Due to his knowledge of the town’s layout and his military qualifications, Spectre was assigned to lead this unit. Spectre addressed the group of locals collectively: “It is my duty to protect this town, I will see to it personally that we catch the insects that did this.”

Spectre dispatches local military police to track footprints and gather evidence. Spectre organizes a second team that is gathering intel on the whereabouts of the termites in question.

Scout is assigned to this team and is given background on an individual that may pose a potential threat to their unit.

Spectre: Locals have identified a person named Professor Brown who we need to meet with.

National surveillance and documents show that she does take her daily, however, locals say she has some interesting views about termites. They have identified her as a potential spy and ally to termites. Locals say they witnessed her leaving food outside for termites and they think she even gives them shelter. Locals believe she has information about the termites that broke-in last night.

The unit arrives at the home of Professor Brown, just on the edge of town. Spectre knocks on Professor Brown’s door. A slender middle-aged Black Woman with dreadlocks steps outside.

Professor Brown: How can I help you?

Spectre responds: Look, cut the shit, where are they?

Professor: Where is who?

Spectre: Listen professor, I’ve got scared families who own and work in the store, there are also children, and everyone is afraid of getting robbed again. This has been happening across the town, and we have multiple eye-witnesses who say they have

seen you working with the termites and may know about the recent break-in.

Professor Brown: I don’t know anything about it.

Spectre: Look, I get it, you believe in the sanctity of life. It’s not their fault they’re termites, they didn’t choose to be termites, nobody would. We also get that they are still alive, and it is life that should be valued. We get that too, but you have to remember that for every termite we save today, we lose a hundred human lives tomorrow. Listen, we have to take them out if humans are to survive in this world, the hard fact is that the only good termite is a dead one. This is for our children and termites must be sacrificed for the greater good.

As Spectre is speaking to Dr. Brown, the accompanying militia is ambushed by a group of termites that were hiding in the walls.

They find termites are pressing a button on an odd pen shaped device and pointing at the troops. As Spectre and Scout retreat from the entrance, Dr. Brown and surviving termites inside the house escape through a false door.

Overrun by termites, the militia retreats back to base for reinforcements. Once they safely return to the base, Scout begins to notice flashes in his vision and finds it difficult to focus on his steps. Spectre notices that Scout is wavering in his ability to walk straight.

Spectre: Hey Scout, you okay?

Scout: Ya I’m fine, I just feel a little weird. I’m not sick, maybe just tired.

Spectre: I’m reporting you to Sick Bay. You don’t look good.

Scout arrives at the militia’s sick bay, this facility requires a security clearance and is only accessible to members within Scout’s unit or high-ranking officers. Upon arriving at sick bay, Scout is cleared by the front desk staff to head directly into the doctor’s office.

Sick Bay Dr.: So why are you here?

Scout: I dunno, I think my vision is a little blurry at times.

Sick Bay Dr.: Ok well let me get some blood from you and have you complete some tests.

A few hours later the doctor returns with results from the lab.

Sick Bay Dr.: I ran several preliminary tests and everything seems okay. Your vitals appear normal. You know, you did a big thing out there locating that spy you should be proud of.

Just get some rest and be sure to take your daily.

After being cleared for duty by the doctor, Scout leaves the sick bay and begins to walk to his vehicle. The reinforcements have gathered and the troops are geared up and ready to move with full force back to Professor Brown’s house. As Scout walks across the grass to get into his assigned vehicle, he notices the smell of the grass. He reaches down and grabs a handful.

He says to Spectre, who is standing nearby: Hey can you smell that?

Spectre responds: Smell what?

Scout says: The grass, you usually can’t smell anything, have you ever noticed that?

Spectre says: No, come on let’s go.

The reinforcements converge on the house. Scout jumps out the vehicle, gun ready. As he enters the front door he is confused about why he sees a woman swinging a bat at him.

Scout screams to the woman, “Don’t worry, I’m not here for you, I’m here for the termites, get out of here!” As the woman runs out the front door Scout hears yelling. Scout runs back out the front door, he sees a family in a position of execution. Scout runs out screaming “What are you doing! Stop Stop!” Spectre says, “I got this kill Scout, get your ass back inside, there’s more than enough termites to go around!”

As Scout traverses back across the lawn into the backyard, he becomes disoriented and falls into a pit disguised as grass.

He hits the bottom of the pit hard, is knocked unconscious and passes out upon collision with the ground.

Act 2: Scout Wakes Up When Scout wakes up, he is in a bed being cared for.

Everyone in the room backs up and asks, “What do you see, What do you see? Do you see termites?”

Scout: No, I see humans.

Termite Doctor: We are the Termites.

Scout says: I’ve seen termites, they are not humans. They’re animal-insect hybrids and look like monsters! They don’t speak, they don’t talk, only grunting in some primitive language.

Termite Doctor: That ‘medicine’ you take . . . the daily . . . it makes you see us as monsters. We actually DO have a voice and can speak but you just don’t hear us. That daily you take mutes and filters our speech, but now that your dosage has been disrupted, can you see us? Can you hear our voice?

Scout: Yes, I can see you and I can hear you.

As Scout is speaking with the termite doctor, the local ranger battalion breaks in and shoots everyone in the room except for Scout. They give each other high fives, tallying up their termite kills. Scout is brought back to the base, and Spectre is given an award on behalf of his unit. He is awarded for saving a prisoner of war (Scout), killing the termites that broke into the shop, killing additional termites hidden in the professor’s house, officially identifying a termite spy, and locating an enemy outpost that had never been identified. While Spectre is receiving multiple accolades, Scout is sent back to sick bay due to his interactions with termites. He has to be screened for any diseases or infections, physical or psychological, that he may have accrued during his captivity.

Act 3 - The Choice?

Colony Doctor: Wow you are one lucky Duckling! You deserve an award for all the mental and physical torture you endured.

You may not know it, but just being in proximity with those things is a serious health hazard.

Scout: I think I’m gonna be okay.

Colony Doctor: The report here filed by Spectre says you were talking to the termites about something when they rangers broke in. Just out of curiosity, how were you talking to them?

They’re linguistically incompetent and generally speaking, have low levels of intelligence.

Scout: The ones I was with were regular human beings, they had human faces and voices, what’s going on?

Colony Doctor: We feared you may have been exposed to some of the opposition’s propaganda. As a result, senior generals have given me clearance to provide you with classified information. It is not uncommon for humans to experience symptoms such as confusion, hysteria, delusion, and paranoia after spending extended time with Termites. This is both biological in terms of the germs given off from the physical presence, but psychological in terms of the information you are exposed to. For the record I am not simply a standard colony doctor, although trained in medicine I too hold the rank of general and was sent specifically here to speak with you due to the sensitivity of the information I may potentially share with you. This information has been proven to help alleviate and explain some of the psychological symptoms you may be experiencing. It however, cannot be shared with anyone . . . ever . . . not even family, should you choose to receive this information.

Scout: I choose to receive the information and I will keep all information confidential.

Colony Doctor: Do you know the history behind the daily? Did you know that it is consensual? Many people don’t know that.

Scout: Kinda, we learned about it in school. Didn’t people begin to take the daily when it was believed to solve the race problem and cure most forms of disease?

Colony Doctor: Yes but it is a bit more complex. See laws, policies and legislation were set up after the dailys’ creation, making the daily mandatory to participate in various parts of society. For example, if you want to enter a hospital, get a job, go to school, join the military, etc. one would have to take the daily. It was believed to be a preventative measure against

racial discrimination, sexism, homophobia alongside additional psychological disorders and a whole host of problems present in the DNA. Non-daily takers were basically relegated to the fringes of society because they weren’t able to participate in the workforce, the housing system, the school system, and mainstream society at large. Walls were built to basically quarantine and protect daily-takers from non-daily taker communities. These non-daily takers are the termites you saw when you were off your daily during your captivity.

Scout: Why the visual hallucinations?

Colony Doctor: We needed a way to quickly identify non-daily takers, what better way than with a visual queue? Do you know the kind of filth lingering in termite communities’ DNA? Sickle cell anemia, heart disease, chemical dependency, shorter life span, inferior intelligence and the list goes on and on, you wouldn't want that for your children would you? Also these termites, a lot of time will breed without using proper contraception and are exponentially spreading their disease and problems around the globe like one giant infestation. That’s why we built the wall and that’s why the work you do is so noble, because you are protecting the survival of the human bloodline. That’s where the daily comes in, it blocks and manipulates senses that may normally interfere with one’s ability to exterminate a termite infestation this includes sight, sound, hearing, and more.

Scout: So what’s next?

Colony Doctor: Well, the devices you found termites with . . . it releases an airborne antibody that can sometimes disrupt the daily’s effects temporarily, although it doesn’t always work.

They make these devices out of refrigerator coolers somehow.

Under his breath the Dr. chuckles and says quietly, “Ha, I guess they aren’t completely stupid.”

Colony Doctor: Termite propaganda calls these devices a form of “nonviolent resistance.” This is funny because they have to be in our presence to use the devices and their very presence is a health risk ha (chuckles). As mentioned earlier, the daily is consensual, and it is for your best interests. FYI the creators of the daily were not some crazed neo-nazis, they were advocates and students of social justice. They loved and studied Angela

Davis, James Baldwin, Audrey Lorde, Malcom X, and others. They also helped to create some of the most prolific foundations in anti-bias work. All around, they were just good people. They wanted to protect the survival of not just you and me, but our children and children’s children. However, this way of survival only works if we take the daily, because the daily literally protects us from diseases within the termite community which would kill us otherwise. I actually am recommending you take a double dose to combat any disease not showing symptoms that may be incubating in your body. Anyways, now that you know this information, do you still want to take your Daily?

Discussion The daily dose, termites, Dr. Brown, Spectre and Scout serve as larger symbols that connect conceptually to both the social world and the U.S. system of education. This analysis will unpack the meaning, message and purpose behind these symbols and why they are pertinent to understanding the reproduction of inequity within schools and society at large. It is important to note that I have had several people ask if this story is related to the breakout of Covid-19 in the United States. This story was written over a year prior to the breakout of Covid-19 in the United States and is no way intentionally related to the circumstances surrounding this pandemic.

The “Daily Dose” The Daily is a metaphor and critique of colorblindness, interest convergence, and non-structural/non-systemic understandings of race. Institutional policy requiring dosage of “the daily” represents colorblindness via race neutral policies.

Race neutral policies, such as Proposition 209, led to the repeal of affirmative action in California. This only benefitted the interests of middle-class whites while communities of color were further marginalized. In connection, the daily also represents the intentional convergence of interests, such as social justice policies that mainly serve the interests of the dominant group.

Within the story, the daily represents a new era where racism and social inequity is a distant memory. However, the daily socially reproduces the very phenomena it was put in place to allegedly stop. This connects to research by Hartlep (2009), who

documented that whites were the primary benefactors of the Civil Rights Movement.

The pill is also a critique on purely ideological or psychological understandings of race.

Ideological understandings of race often treat racism as a psychological problem that can be cured, rather than a structural and indefinite caste that is built into the system. As a result, ideological strategies that buffer against racism are often unbalanced and do not adequately address the root of white supremacy. Purely ideological understandings of race often see racism as a choice, either intentionally or through bias. This connects to the end of the story where the doctor reminds Scout that taking the pill is a choice implying that one can simply choose not to participate.

There are systems of power, i.e., laws, policies, and dominant cultural norms, in place that are actively shaping one’s socialization into eventually consuming the daily. This scene is a metaphor that critiques ideological myths where one can choose to participate in the system of race. Racism is institutionalized, which means that it is built into our laws and policies, and actively shapes our daily experiences. Communities of color are often the only groups associated with race, however, White people participate and will garner the privileges of race regardless if they are colorblind or practice anti-racism. The awareness of race and racism, however, allows one the openended option to think of creative ways to resist and buffer against these systems of oppression. This is why the story ends with an open-ended question for Scout, it serves as an openended question for the reader to simultaneously acknowledge, deny, and/or take action against the systems of oppressions that we actively participate in our daily lives.

Colorblindness and interest convergence are mirrored within education when examining the history behind the Mexican American Studies’ (MAS) movement. The Arizona Department of Education banned MAS arguing it was a radical framework that encouraged students to overthrow the government (Cammarota, 2015). In January 2012, the ban effectively shut down ethnic studies classes. This ruling was later revoked by a senior judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals, deeming the bill both racist and unconstitutional (Depenbrock, 2017; Planas 2017). Amidst this controversy, research about the positive effects and impact of Ethnic Studies emerged and a revival of the curriculum was

inspired. Research showed that MAS students in Tucson were 96 percent more likely to pass the AIMS Math than non-MAS students. Additionally, students who took MAS courses were between 51 percent more likely to graduate from high school than non-MAS students (2009) and 108 percent more likely to graduate (Hawley, 2012). The convergence of marginal and dominant interests emerges via course implementation (satisfying student and teacher activists) while also helping to fulfill the performance and retention goals of the state, which also mandates court-ordered requirements for culturally relevant programming. Given this context, the discussion of race within course curriculum was an invisible concept until it benefitted those in power, i.e., the Tucson School District.

The daily is a symbol of the education system and how it shapes one’s perspective. The context and situation surrounding the daily are complex, in one sense the daily/education system can be healing and liberatory. However, in another sense it can be harmful, dangerous, traumatic, and oppressive. The social structure built around the daily—meaning you can’t get equal access to society at large without taking it—symbolizes the power and privilege surrounding the education system. It also represents that lack of access one has to various parts of society without the power and privilege of an education. These visual hallucinations symbolize many things. This includes the deficient ways communities of color are perceived, but it also symbolizes the stigmatization as well as stereotypes and limited understanding of school “dropouts.” Students that have been pushed out of the pipeline can be perceived in ways that are dehumanizing and inferior. This visual distortion of the termites also stems from additional intersections, such as issues of class oppressions, showing how intersectional privilege shapes the ways one is perceived.

Termites The beastification and reference of human characters as termites represents the pathologizing, degradation, dehumanization that students of color face every day.

Employment of terminology like “termites” refers to pathologizing frameworks and methods often used to dehumanize and stratify racialized communities. Pathology, or

the science of the causes and effects of diseases, is often used to describe the experience of communities of color. (Google Dictionary, 2018). The pathologization of race often uses overly deductive narratives to describe the experiences of communities of color who are often in need of healing. These experiences are often made in comparison to whiteness in that whiteness is the cultural norm and racialized communities pose a threat to, or may “infect,” these norms or standards. For example, Drapetomania was a treatable disease that was created to describe the experiences of Black slaves and why they would run away. According to Kres-Nash (2016), Drapetomania was a condition of mental alienation causing slaves to run away from their slavemaster.

The hallucinations caused by the daily represents the centrality of race present within discrimination where race, often times, is the first cue (visual) of a person and or community. The hallucinations also reference the distortion of humanity and lack of empathy for the perspectives of marginalized groups. This beastification of humanity, specifically in regards to people of color, is seen within the social perceptions of Black males.

Multiple studies have shown that Black males are perceived as larger and more violent than they actually are, additionally the use of force was also justified against Black men in contrast to white men (Wilson et al., 2017).

This connects to intersectionality, a core tenet of CRT, which shows that when Blackness is compounded with maleness distorted perceptions of violence and fear are present.

The pathologization, dehumanization and centrality of race within discrimination is also present within the school system.

The pathologization of race within education can be seen in the disproportionate amount of students of color who are referred to special education. The role of intersectionality also plays a key role in this finding, as it did in the conceptual discussion, as this study found this result applied across the five disability classifications studied, notably including emotional disturbance and intellectual disability, stigmatizing categories in which Black boys are over represented in the aggregate (Hibel et al., 2010).

Dehumanizing perspectives of students can be seen when examining the biased perceptions that teachers and school administrators hold about students of color. The centrality of race present within inequitable schooling can also be seen in the

severe discipline practices that disproportionately target Black children. When examining the role of bias and its connection to punitive discipline, we see Black students being impacted the most, especially Black males. Research suggests that when given an opportunity to choose among several disciplinary options for a relatively minor offense, teachers and school administrators often choose more severe punishment for Black students than for White students for the same offense (Losen et al., 2015).

Additionally, such severe punitive practices disproportionately funnels these students, many times children, directly into prisons (Nance, 2013). This lack of empathy, alongside the over-representation of students of color in special education, reflects larger educational policies and structural gaps that position students of color as intellectually inferior, infantile, deviant non-humans that are in need of discipline, surveillance, "guidance," a western nuclear family and/or constant “medical help.” Inspiration behind the “Termites,” the visual hallucinations of them, and the colony doctor drew their inspiration from an episode of Black Mirror titled, “Men Against Fire.”

Dr. Brown & Spectre Conceptually, Dr. Brown symbolizes underrepresented communities and their commitment to racial justice while Spectre is a symbol of white supremacy and privilege. Although Professor Brown was able to temporarily disrupt the system, her safehouse was eventually discovered and raided. Professor Brown’s escape and survival amidst the military raid, symbolizes the resilience and persistence that students and teachers of color face within the education system and within a larger system of white supremacy. Professor Brown embodies CRT as she demonstrates at least two core tenets, a commitment to social and an unending effort to challenge dominant ideology.

Spectre represents an educator who is a composite of various dominant groups and subscribes to colorblindness. This character has risen to power due to both their intersections of privilege and the adherence to race neutral policies that benefit the very dominant groups that privilege him. The awards represent the intentionality and power behind laws and policies put in place to socially reproduce oppression. The white males’ connection to power and privilege in the United States is widely

documented. For example, white males are paid more, promoted more and discriminated against less than any other racial and gender demographic, when performing the same job responsibilities (Hegewisch, 2017; Lanfried, 2017).

Racial and cultural practices within schools align with the dominant system of whiteness. This connects to the character Spectre’s blind complicity within the system and the privileges afforded because of this. Racial and cultural hierarchies privilege white teachers and teachers subscribing to whiteness. These hierarchies privilege their advancement to new opportunities both within and outside of their institution. This is substantiated by the National Center for Education (2016) statistics, which demonstrate that 84 percent of full-time professors are white.

Whiteness embedded within education systems privileges an individualist race evasive culture (Cabrera, 2017). This aligns with the experiences of Professor Brown, where white supremacist school norms and culture pushes critical educators of color to the fringes, making their commitment to racial justice extremely difficult to maintain or realize.

Colony Doctor The Colony doctor represents the process or mechanisms that socially reproduce oppression, in this case securitization.

When Scout asks, “so why the hallucinations” and the doctor responds with the use of visual markers to stratify groups, it represents the social construction of race and the role shadism plays in discrimination and privilege. As, Scout begins to learn the history behind the daily, the various forms of discrimination and stratification behind the normalization of the daily is situated within a securitization framework. Although Scout is given a choice, there is a hidden curriculum and larger systemic influences behind the choices he was presented. If she chooses not to take the daily, she will be deemed a threat to the health and national security of the colony. An important side note, when the doctor says, “their very presence is a health risk,” this is inspired by Abraham Lincoln who stated the white race suffers at the very presence of African Americans. Lincoln was a proponent of segregation and white racial superiority. Morgan (1993), a writer for the Institute for Historical Review, confirmed this documenting that on August 14, 1862, Lincoln stated, “You

and we are different races. We have between us a broader difference than exists between almost any other two races.

Whether it is right or wrong I need not discuss, but this physical difference is a great disadvantage to us both, as I think your race suffers very greatly, many of them, by living among us, while ours suffers from your presence. In a word, we suffer on each side. If this is admitted, it affords a reason at least why we should be separated.” This theme of segregation and genetic superiority is woven throughout the story, termites are viewed as genetically inferior and are segregated due to the “threat” that is posed against the survival of the human bloodline.

Securitization Throughout the story, the killing of termites and use of the daily are justified through a framework of securitization.

Securitization involves reframing a phenomena or topic as an issue of safety in order to justify excessive and punitive responses. This reframing manifests via speech or written policy and is often rooted in a deep historical and international context and can be connected with political intentions. According to Buzan, Wæver, and Wilde (1998) “securitization” is a spoken or written act with distinct consequences that are rooted in a deep historical context involving domestic and international relations, it is when a topic or subject matter is reframed as an area of security concerns thereby legitimizing extraordinary means against a socially constructed threat.

This is mirrored in education within school discipline and Zero-Tolerance policies.

Scout I, the writer, am a Black male and thus the story is written through a Black male lens.

The development of Scout’s character drew from my knowledge, a core tenet of CRT. The intentionality behind Scout’s gender was intentional as Black male teacher’s make up only (2 percent) of the teaching force.

The inclusion of a Black male teaching voice, I found necessary and fitting for this journal, as it is a voice commonly unheard within academia.

As a Black male, Scout represents a new colorblind teacher or educator unpacking their own positionality and historical

privilege as they become exposed to experiences of inequity in the pipeline. Act 2, “Scout begins to Wake Up,” highlights the birth of Scout’s critical consciousness as he gains exposure and gives acknowledgement to the humanity present within termite, or marginalized, communities. Use of the phrase “begins to wake up” rather than simply “Scout Wakes Up,” challenges the fixed terms in which one’s critical consciousness is often framed.

This notion of continual praxis, i.e., a cycle of action and reflection, implies that critical consciousness is not fixed and requires continuous improvement due to the permanence of racism and structural inequity. The question which the ending hinges on, also represents the beginning of his story. Will Scout take his daily even after finding out how the daily is problematic and how it historically and presently marginalizes various groups?

The story is not given an ending as it is an ongoing choice, and cycle, that we as educators will continually face and navigate. The route an educator chooses depends on the power and context intersecting both the issue and educator’s positionality. After learning about how various practices and curriculum stratify and oppress communities of color, will you stand up and risk your own marginalization to challenge raceneutral or non-equitable practices? Maybe a teacher will be complicit at that moment, take the daily and try to create resistance in other ways such as Dr. Brown? Maybe Scout, or an educator, takes the daily and carries on with their life like Spectre? This can involve turning a blind eye and accepting the dominant deficit-based narratives, or just remaining content in receiving the privileges afforded by the system. Maybe Scout will one day meet Professor Brown and the two will become coconspirators for the resistance? There isn’t one sole strategy for how to respond to this issue as it may be a combination of several strategies over various time points in one’s career.

Merely the story poses this question as a point of praxis for educators to continually reflect upon.

The Border City of Ceuta Ceuta refers to a real border fence that forms part of the Morocco–Spain border.

Constructed by Spain, the declared purpose of the fence is to stop illegal migration and crime,

however, the construction of this fence has been connected to both anti-immigration, anti-Blackness, and institutional racism (Cassidy, 2019; Ferrer-Gallardo & Albet-Mas, 2013; Planet, 1998). In 2005, racist and xenophobic sentiment toward African migrants prompted the Spanish government of José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero to build up a new border fence. This newer border fence, built next to two prior deteriorating fences, completely seals the city. Although, the recent Interior Minister of Spain has recognized the anti-immigration ideals that the fence stems from and has vowed to remove it, it still stands tall.

Hundreds of Black-African immigrants have protested by climbing the walls, hoping to bring public attention to the issue (Ferrer-Gallardo & Albet-Mas, 2013). Unfortunately, several protesters were killed and many more have been injured and detained in the past. These protests are part of the inspiration behind the termite break-in scene during Act 1.

This example of a modern-day border fence is significant because it parallels racist and xenophobic policy that is present in the United States (Huber, 2016). For example, the current administration vows to build a border wall, and like the Spanish, uses a securitization and moral panic framework to justify its construction. The use of factual names are intentional in bringing further attention to this issue and is a form of scholar activism that is commonly present within CRT. Conclusion All in all, this story is a parable for educators. Whether you align with characters such as Scout, Dr. Brown or Spectre, the implications of this narrative pushes educators to examine their own role in the resistance and/or reproductions of social inequity. The employment of science fiction provides fictional yet real world examples of how educators navigate themes of social inequity. Although teacher education can provide many benefits including rigorous training to help future educators navigate frameworks of racism and bias within the field, concepts including race still remain marginal in the discussion of student experiences. Storytelling creates a counter space for the reader and listeners where students can interrogate the dominant forms of ideology intertwined within schooling, or in this case, “The Daily Dose.”

References Buzan, B., Wæver, O., & De Wilde, J. (1998). Security: A new framework for analysis. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers.

Cabrera, N. L., Franklin, J. D., & Watson, J. S. (2017). Whiteness in higher education: The invisible missing link in diversity and racial analyses. ASHE Higher Education Report, 42(6).

New York, NY: John Wiley & Sons.

Cammarota, J. (2016). The praxis of ethnic studies: Transforming second sight into critical consciousness. Race, Ethnicity & Education, 19(2), 233–251. doi:10.1080/13613324.2015.1041486 Cassidy, H. (2019). Imagining Ceuta and Melilla. Senior Projects Spring 2019. 78. Retrieved from https://digitalcommons.bard.edu/senproj_s2019/78 Depenbrock, J. (2017, August 22). Federal judge finds racism behind Arizona law banning ethnic studies. All Things Considered. Retrieved from https://www.npr.org/sections/ed/2017/08/22/545402866/fe deral-judge-finds-racism-behind-arizona-law-banningethnic-studies Ferrer-Gallardo, X., & Albet-Mas, A. (2016). EU-Limboscapes: Ceuta and the proliferation of migrant detention spaces across the European Union. European Urban and Regional Studies, 23(3), 527–530.

Goff, P. A., Jackson, M. C., Leone, D., Lewis, B. A., Culotta, C. M., & DiTomasso, N. A. (2014). The essence of innocence: Consequences of dehumanizing Black children. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 106(4), 526–545.

Hawley, W. D. (2012). An empirical analysis of the effects of Mexican American Studies participation on student achievement within Tucson Unified School District (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). The University of Arizona, Tucson.

Hegewisch, A., Phil, M., & Williams-Baron, E. (2017). The gender wage gap: 2017 earnings differences by race and ethnicity.

Washington, D.C.: Institute for Women’s Policy Research.

Hibel, J., Farkas, G., & Morgan, P. L. 2010. Who is placed into special education? Sociology of Education, 83(4), 312–332.

Retrieved from

http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/00380407103 83518 Huber, L. P. (2016). “Make America great again”: Donald Trump, racist nativism and the virulent adherence to white supremacy amid U.S. demographic change. Charleston Law Review, 10, 215–248.

Kres-Nash, I. (2016). Racism and ableism. Washington, D.C.: American Association for People with Disabilities.

Landfried, F. K. (2017). Shattering the glass ceiling: The status of women in the workplace and the change needed for equality. Saint Louis University Public Law Review, XXXVI(1), 1–4.

Losen, D., Hodson, C., Keith, I, Michael, A., Morrison, K., & Belway, S. (2015). Are we closing the school discipline gap?

Los Angeles, CA: UCLA and The Civil Rights Project.

Morgan, R. (1993). “The great emancipator” and the issue of race. The Journal for Historical Review, 13(5), 4–25.

Retrieved from https://www.ihr.org/jhr/v13/v13n5p4_Morgan.html Nance, J. P. (2013). Students, security, and race. Emory Law Journal, 63(1), 1–57.

National Center for Education Statistics. (2016). Fast facts.

Retrieved from https://nces.ed.gov/fastfacts/display.asp? id=61 Picower, B., & Kohli, R. (Eds.). (2017). Confronting racism in teacher education: Counternarratives of critical practice.

New York, NY: Taylor & Francis.

Planas, R. (2017, December 28). Arizona can’t ban MexicanAmerican Studies anymore, judge says. Huffington Post.

Retrieved from https://www.huffpost.com/entry/arizonacant-ban-mexican-american-studies-anymore-judgesays_n_5a442f28e4b025f99e199496 Planet, A. (1998). Marroquíes. Melilla and Ceuta: UNED Melilla.

Saltman, K. J., & Gabbard, D. A. (Eds.). (2010). Education as enforcement: The militarization and corporatization of schools. New York, NY: Routledge.

University of Virginia. (2017). Zero tolerance and militarization.

School of Education. Retrieved from http://curry.virginia.edu/research/projects/violence-inschools/zero-tolerance

Wilson, J. P., Hugenberg, K., & Rule, N. O. (2017). Racial bias in judgments of physical size and formidability: From size to threat. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 113(1), 59–80.

Yosso, T., Smith, W., Ceja, M., & Solórzano, D. (2009). Critical race theory, racial microaggressions, and campus racial climate for Latina/o undergraduates. Harvard Educational Review, 79(4), 659–691.

UCLA InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies Title Collective Conclusion: Collective Reflections on Critical Storytelling for Racial and Social Justice

Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/0mm8z490

Journal InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 16(2)

ISSN 1548-3320

Author Puente, Mayra

Publication Date 2020 Peer reviewed

eScholarship.org

Powered by the California Digital Library University of California

Conclusion: Collective Reflections on Critical Storytelling for Racial and Social Justice The eight student authors of this special issue were all drawn to the mission of a newly formed doctoral program at UC San Diego, Transforming Education in a Diverse Society, which focuses on equity, justice, and collaboration in an effort to transform educational contexts and systems. Our pursuit of a Ph.D. is driven by personal and family experiences, and ignited by our upbringing in a society that marginalizes the voices of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color. Each one of the authors believes in addressing educational disparities while working with historically marginalized communities and educational stakeholders. We are eager to transform educational outcomes and patterns of socialization in formal and non-formal spaces for Black, Indigenous, and People of Color, as well as for all children and youth. This special issue represents our collective attempt to resist the silencing of our narratives by drawing on the knowledge that we carry and the theoretical tools we have gained to advance racial and social justice for Communities of Color in the field of education.

Context: The Need for Critical Race Theory (CRT) We entered this doctoral program with a myriad of personal and professional experiences, ranging from teaching to counseling, from K-12 to higher education, and with local, national, and global expertise. The initial coursework of our doctoral program introduced us to foundational concepts and theories, including topics on educational learning environments, outcomes, and policies. Yet, conversations and theories on race and racism were limited within the core curriculum. As new cohorts entered the program, attempts were made to create inclusive classroom environments and to face the discomfort of discussions about racism, its permanence, and the ongoing racialized experiences of Students of Color. As a department, we continued to wrestle with our mission of “transforming education� in terms of curricular content, research methods and

theories, and educational practices within our program, given the wide array of expertise from students and faculty alike.

This nuanced understanding of transformation provided space for us to share our lived experiences in class, our growing expertise on race-centered epistemologies and theories, and to begin a series of ongoing dialogues in our doctoral program about educational transformation and social justice.

These critical interrogations and conversations continued in the newly created Introduction to Critical Race Theory (CRT) course in Fall 2018, which brought together members from two student cohorts to dialogue, read, and write about educational issues related to race and racism. We would like to share with readers our reflections on the course and illuminate some of the implications of our individual stories in this collective special issue.

Exploring CRT as a Theoretical Home One of the most crucial undertakings for burgeoning doctoral students is finding or building a theoretical home.

Exploring CRT as a theoretical home was an important milestone in our academic and personal journeys. For some of us, the course represented an opportunity to strengthen our understanding of key scholars, texts, and concepts, and for others, it provided a foundational introduction to CRT. This process was facilitated by our instructor and femtor, Dr. Chapman, who invited us to learn about the foundations of CRT as a theoretical framework in education, to ponder on its assumptions and implications, and to analyze current social realities and educational efforts from a critical race-based perspective. Further, many of us were drawn to this course because it spoke directly to the importance of engaging in educational efforts that are rooted in the racial liberatory mission of CRT. It almost seems destined for many of us to be called upon to further explore this critical way of understanding the world as many of us have navigated our daily lives, and now academia, on the margins. As a theoretical lens, a central aim of CRT inspired work is to challenge eurocentric research and the normative and deficit thinking that it reinforces. The CRT course reinforced these ideals and helped us develop and expand on our

epistemological lenses by unapologetically centering race and racism in our work.

CRT speaks to the complexity and racialized lives of People of Color while also making space for Scholars of Color to draw on our cultural intuitions and experiences as valid forms of knowledge construction in academia. By drawing from CRT and engaging in counterstorytelling, we center the ways of knowing of racially marginalized communities in our scholarship. Our own cultural ways of knowing are exhibited in this special issue, as well as the cultural ways of knowing passed down by our families, elders, and communities.

We recognize that counterstorytelling in CRT draws from the cuentos, parables, fables, folktales, and narratives in our communities. We wrote these stories for our ancestors, elders, parents, youth, and children who reject daily forms of oppression through acts of storytelling and listening. We acknowledge the support of those who came before us and nurtured us to formally contribute as counterstorytellers in academia. CRT heeded our intellectual calls, as well as filled our spirits with fire and passion. The process of developing these critical stories allowed many of us to grieve the harm, pain, and loss that our families and communities have historically experienced because of white dominant structures, practices, and discourse. All the while, we cultivated a space of healing through our writing and through the sharing of our stories with the loved ones who informed our work.

Throughout the CRT course, there was an ambiance of exploration and openness for those of us who were, and some who still are, in search of a theoretical home. Our shared mission of transformation in education is what brought us together and it will continue to lead us on convergent journeys towards racial and social justice. We will continue to grow in our understanding of CRT as we use its tools to fight racial and social injustices both past and present.

We have cultivated and witnessed the power of counterstories and we hope that this power manifests beyond our immediate friends and families as we share our critical stories in this special issue.

Implications of Our Stories Our stories emerged from a class assignment and have resulted in an opportunity to connect our stories to the narratives and experiences of countless other students, scholars, and stakeholders from all backgrounds. We encourage the readers of this issue to advocate for similar spaces where CRT counterstorytelling can be used to support their academic experiences and scholarship. In this way, we are hopeful that the legacy of our CRT course will encourage the critical interrogation of racialized oppression in learning environments where race-based conversations are absent, hidden, or stifled by dominant educational practices.

The legacy of the CRT course has already extended into its second year in many ways. Following the course, many of us continued to seek out and grapple with theory, methods, and epistemologies reflecting our own racialized experiences.

Conversations in our program led to identifying a need for more spaces to interrogate the connections between who we are and why and how we engage our work as critical scholars. These conversations led to the creation of a student-led course for doctoral students to examine the ways our positionalities, experiences, and identities shape our approaches to research, including theoretical and methodological choices and developing meaningful and reciprocal relationships with participants.

A year later, Dr. Chapman called on us to visit the 2019 CRT class. We engaged the new cohort of CRT scholars with insights into our writing processes, including considerations behind the choice of subject matter, CRT tenets embedded in each piece, and techniques we used to weave composite and personal narratives into compelling counterstories. Each of us reflected on how and why we chose particular protagonists and dynamics that demonstrate the nuanced interconnections of racialized experiences.

As the class ended that day, Dr. Chapman asked each of us to share the impact we hoped our counterstories would have on future readers in furthering the cause for racial and social justice. We recreated the sentiment below: If my story‌

Zaynab: Contributed to seeing the depth and complexity of Indigenous peoples’ lives, dreams, and hopes for a better and more just future for all . . .

Kirk: Made you feel empathy, provided insight into the contentious relationship between Black people and the police, and inspired you to reflect on and critique the over-policing and killing of Black people . . .

Brianna: Provided insight into the racial and gendered violence that young girls of color experience in schools and the knowledge that mother-daughter-sisters hold for critically navigating oppressive systems and institutions . . .

Mayra: Called into question white middle-class conceptualizations of college “choice� and instead put forth an understanding of college choice as complex, as family-centered, and as community-driven . . .

Andrew: Helped you see how a wave of choice related to parenting, schooling, and racial segregation socialize white children to not only accept but embrace a society structured by vicious racial inequality . . .

James: Illuminated institutional dynamics that underlie the pervasive hyper-surveillance, implicit bias, and disproportionate disciplining of Black students that is inextricably linked to the anti-Black violence endemic in American schooling and society . . .

Katherine: Shed light on Latinx premed student experiences and the critical role of the racial campus climate for persistence of Students of Color in STEM . . .

Ramon: Demonstrated how systems of oppression become institutionalized, reproduced, and ultimately timeless. The story is a reminder about the necessity for constant, critical thought about educational institutions, given their contradictory and complex nature in perpetuating liberation and oppression simultaneously . . . . . . then we have contributed to our collective mission of racial and social justice for Black, Indigenous, and People of Color.

We share gratitude for our collaborators, the theoretical home we have built, and our own epistemological foundations.

At the same time, we look forward to how this experience and these stories will touch others. While these stories are deeply personal, they are also intended to sustain and inspire others experiencing, navigating, and challenging racism and other forms of interconnected oppression in educational contexts and beyond.