A Constant State

The arts high school I teach at hosts professional development workshop days for all instructors, academic and teaching artist. These are integral for talking about trauma informed instruction, anti-racism and anti-bias education, and restorative justice practices. See future posts that break these things down, it's all important. 

Yesterday, we started out our anti racism workshop with an exercise about the history and meaning of our first names. The exercise is designed to gently inquire about someone's history while also showing them the respect of learning the name they’d like to go by.

Half of my name belonged to my great grandmother and half of my name is a common Latina name. My adoption mother combined the two and I’d like to believe that was her way of constantly reminding me I haven’t abandoned my birth culture. My name is one of the only things I still have from my adoption mother. She passed away from cancer when I was six. My birth mother gave me up for adoption, so my foster parents who nursed me, gave me a temporary name Dolores Perez. Even the inconsistency of my first name holds my history. My official given name is one of a kind, it reminds me to speak up, loud and clear, to annunciate and set a standard expectation of respect for any new person who walks into my life. My name means I am either hard to remember or impossible to forget.

During the workshop, people went around the room and shared the histories of their name. My coworker shared that his name means black gold but because it ends with an 'a' and it’s unique, he receives things in the mail designed for women and people assume he is female. This probably derives from the association of the feminine with words and names that end with 'a' as seen in Spanish and other romance languages. He also shared how as a child in school when a teacher couldn’t pronounce his name they would give him a shortened version nickname and he hated it. This reiterated how important it is to show students in the classroom, and people in general, the first level of respect by learning their name, how to pronounce it, and even how to spell it.

Then a long-term substitute shared a story about his name which started something I’m having difficulty describing. He told us his last name is Wynter spelled with a Y because it’s the European spelling. Then he proceeded to explain that he is proud to have European lineage, knowing his great grandmother was a maid to a plantation owner.

Upon listening to this story my coworker beside me almost flipped the table. I could feel the frustrated energy rolling off him. He didn’t want to be here and after hearing a brotha pride himself on descending from slave rape, he couldn’t handle much more. To describe the relationship in such a romanticized way was odd—the man's mother would not have been paid like a maid and it's very likely she was a house slave.

Later, when we had a conversation about this particular response in our department meeting, I said it reminded me of Uncle Ruckus from the Boondocks. 

I felt sad listening to this man speak. But I also wonder what it must feel like to not be in a constant state of rage about racial issues. James Baldwin said, “to be [a person of color] in this country and relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all of the time.” This man didn’t sound woke to me, so in being the opposite was he living a happier life as an Anglophile?

We switched to a different activity. A two sided worksheet was given to us with two identity wheels, one on either side. One identity wheel had social and political identities: race, ethnicity, age, gender, sexual orientation, economic status, nation of origin, etc. the other wheel had superficial personal choice identities: favorite music, favorite movie, favorite book, something you take pride in, three adjectives to describe yourself etc. We were then asked to fill out the political side and share what we notice. They looked something like this:

I noticed sitting in a room of adults with vastly more life experience and teaching experience than me, I hesitated to write down my age because of how young I am. I also noticed most people were getting confused about defining race and ethnicity. I’ve always understood myself to be racially Latinx and ethnically white-American. Listening to other people contemplate how to dissect white in terms of ethnicity, I suppose I could be considered German-American, although my adoption family only relates to German culture through biology not so much cultural practice. 

A coworker at my table said he didn’t feel comfortable putting down his economic status. I told him I literally just wrote down, “strugglin’” because it’s the honest truth. I have mixed feelings about this activity. I understand that the worksheet is meant to show people that there’s so many diverse ways one can identify and to reflect on how hard it can be to answer some of these questions, whether it’s because you are uncomfortable or still questioning the answer.  It takes some people 20+ years to figure out their identities. 

These questions are so commonly asked of POC that it can be tedious and almost annoying. I did feel myself sigh, here’s yet another sheet asking me what my race is. I have reflected a lot on my cultural background and the distance I feel, and yet each time this kind of worksheet is presented to me I am triggered. It’s yet another way the system asks me to justify and prove who I am, like these background details somehow determine my worth.

It reminds me of Morgan Freeman controversially saying the key to solving racism is to STOP talking about it.

After filling out the worksheet I felt even more isolated than I did upon entering the room. Looking at my page, I was one of the youngest if not the youngest, the only Mayan, and one of the only individuals whose ethnicity doesn’t sync typically with their race. I was once again alone and the honest truth is I don’t need a worksheet to tell me that.

When we came back to our department groups, I sat among other creative writers and once again felt that sense of connection I need. I am not alone, not really. I expressed how the workshop affected me emotionally—my blood sugar level spiked from stress to prove it. And many of my colleagues shared similar feelings.

My mentor brought up the idea that perhaps it could be beneficial to have these workshops separated into groups of white privileged individuals and persons of color. She is a white lady and contextually she explained it wouldn't be to self segregate but for white people to reflect on how much work they need to do and for white allies to take on some of the responsibility of educating other privileged people instead of crowds always looking to black and brown people to educate everyone on racial issues.

I can see one issue with this: what if you get certain people who don’t identify with their race—like me. I benefit from white privilege because a lot of people think I'm Caucasian and treat me so but on the other hand a lot of people assume I’m Latino and speak Spanish to me without a second thought. I don't surround myself with hateful people but I know there are hundreds of people out there who think I should go back to where I came from. I was raised in white, American culture but I’ve lived oppressive situations and micro-aggressions and I absolutely know what it feels like to be the only other at the dinner table, school, office etc.

However, I do think it would be helpful for certain white people who have a hard time accepting that institutional racism is not a choice and is a product of society and therefore is innately in all of us, to hear it from other white people.

It needs to be taught as common knowledge that racism and bigotry are different and seen in a plethora of ways in every place on earth. The conversation needs to be normalized so that people don’t feel like they are being attacked or want to challenge it. It should be in textbooks and talked about and regulated to the point where we can consider separating a group of instructors by race to discuss how institutional racism can be stopped--and not loose our minds about the suggestion. Do you think dividing a group for discussion about racism could be beneficial?