"I ain't even white." |
Performances are getting "political" people say. Nope. Performances are getting real. And the white community is super afraid of truth. If not afraid, uncomfortable. I am sometimes uncomfortable when confronted with truth, it doesn't mean I choose ignorance. Kendrick Lamar took the Grammy stage for 6 whole minutes of pure, unadulterated honesty. I'm confused as to why people are surprised. His music has been out for quite some time, even won Rap Album of the Year. Why are people all of a sudden calling "controversy"? Because he put visual, real images to words you tried to ignore? Because you saw black men in jail cells as the opening number while he screamed, "I'm the biggest hypocrite of 2015?" If you claim racism has disintegrated while at the same time calling Kendrick's performance inappropriate, you are indeed included in the hypocrites of the year. Now, you can go and watch his performance and make your own judgments. I made my students watch all 6 minutes. Because this is monumental. I asked my students a few preliminary questions. 1. Are you glad you live in America? 2. Are you proud you live in America? 3. In what ways do you think the black community is misunderstood? 4. What is one thing you wish the white community understood about you or your community? Many of my students were glad to live in America. Glad is different than proud. We talked about the educational and economic gap between the black and white communities stemming back hundreds of years. We talked about how they ended up in a non-profit, alternative education high school. It was fascinating to watch the connections between their answers to the questions and Kendrick's performance. Before watching the video, one of my students said, "I think some people view us as less than them." And in Kendrick's untitled portion of his piece, he called out "modern day slavery." Now, before every white person reading this is utterly uncomfortable, let me first say that you should be. This in no way should make you feel content or comforted. That is what good art does. Second, please listen to what my students had to say. They deserve to be heard. After watching, I asked my students why some people might feel uncomfortable or might feel the performance is "controversial". One of my classes actually said, "Because they would rather fund prisons than schools for black kids." I felt like I didn't even have to say anything else. I looked around my classroom and said, you're so right. My ceiling tiles are collapsed in my classroom, and every time it rains, my floor floods... It's happening right now as I type this. I looked them right in the eyes and said, "This would never happen at my white high school." Many people may immediately argue that it is due to funding, not due to race, and I believe that is true. My students are not uneducated because they are black, they are less educated because they have not been awarded the same financial and educational opportunities. But someone please explain to me why. If you want to deny the effects of undeniable slavery and oppression over hundreds of years, that's fine. But come up with another explanation because I can't. Approximately 50 years of Civil Rights (sort of) isn't enough time to right this ship. My students talked about the expectations of black people and black families. How in white families there are two parents in a married relationship living with all of their children, and in black families it is expected that you live in a single-parent home with many children who may or may not be related to you. And that general expectation is true for many of them. But I just kept asking them "why". And they thought and reasoned and thought some more. And this is how it went: "Why do you think black families are like that?" "I don't know..." "Seriously, why?" "Because our parents aren't married." "Why?" "Because dads aren't really around." "Why?" "I don't know... sometimes prison... or they have a lot of kids..." "Why?" "Because no one thinks they can be anything..." "And what else?" "And people live up to what other people expect them to be..." "Bingo." It was incredible. I asked them how they ended up here... in this crazy, last chance high school. They all acted out at their previous high schools... were kicked out. So I asked some more: "Why?" "Because I don't like authority." "Why?" "Because they talk bad to me." "Why?" "Because they think less of me." "So what would you do?" "Yell at them. Curse. Sometimes fight." "Why?" "I don't know..." "How did you learn how to deal with anger when you were little?" "I didn't." I talked with them about how if I got angry in kindergarten and hit someone because they took my blocks, my teacher would pull me in the hallway and talk to me about better ways to deal with being angry. What they got in the Philadelphia public schools was someone screaming at them from across the room because there were 30 other little monsters running around in a fund-less classroom. That's if they attended the required 180 days of kindergarten... which most of them did not. Lightbulbs were going off everywhere... including for me. Kendrick Lamar fueled an unbelievable discussion of inequality and desire for progress. Parting words from my students were, "I don't want to leave this class. You're the only teacher that really sits us down and lets us talk about this stuff." And that is why in Spanish class on a rainy Tuesday I dropped everything I planned to talk about a Grammy Award-winning rap artist. As my class flooded with rainwater, it also flooded with uncensored conversation that broke all racial barriers. I love being a white teacher in a black community. My students become my teachers, and I become their advocate. Because although I cannot correct the last 18 years of their experience in America, I can begin to adjust their mindset toward the white community. I want to give them hope because they have literally turned my world-view on its head. I want them to know it all begins with conversation. How can we change anything if we are so fearful of mentioning "black" and "white"? If we can't even say the words, we're definitely never going to do anything about them. That's why a black man on one of the largest stages in the world was so important. Kendrick, you look like my students. You like the same music as my students. You are black like my students. And you are not afraid. You are not afraid to be black. You are not afraid of what is white. You are not afraid to talk about inequality. You are not afraid to believe in it. You have created a space for conversation. "Conversation for the entire nation; this is bigger than us." Thanks, Kendrick. Thank you.
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AuthorA young woman trying to figure out why she matters and where she belongs in a struggling, urban culture. CategoriesArchives
November 2016
All stories, opinions, and suggestions are written strictly by the author of this blog, and do not reflect the opinions or stance of Communities in Schools of Philadelphia.
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