Is a gentle kiss of affection a micro-aggression?

Excited, happy, joyous high school graduates receiving their diplomas. They walk the few steps up to the stage and reach out with a left hand to receive the diploma. The diploma-giver, a male, shakes the right hand and then reaches that arm around them for an embrace as they both smile at the photographer who captures the moment for each graduate. The graduate walks down the row of school dignitaries waiting to congratulate them. The next male in line hugs some boys, shakes hands with others. He leans in to give each girl a kiss on the cheek. Is this a micro-aggression? A message that separates boys from girls at a moment when all is equal? They are all graduating.

Seeing, counting, being

I'm looking around the restaurant banquet tables imagining how this group came together, one year at a time. Seven teachers who connect us to the past, one person who connects us to the Riverdale campus and history, and the remainder, the teachers and staff who came on board during my administration. I realize that I don't actually know how they identify themselves, but here's my guess.

6 Latina
2 Latino
6 African American
4 Asian
18 Caucasian

This is what it takes to experience diversity. Fifty percent. There is rarely a time in our work groups that there is not someone of color sitting at the table. Can we imagine moving the entire faculty and staff, 300+,  toward this goal?

Micro-aggressions

Micro-aggressions. Sometimes you don't notice or feel them until you think about them. Sometimes they are disguised with a cheerful voice or smile. They hang in the air and the power is in the polluting effect as much as it is in the offense to the individual.

Most recently heard:

It's so nice that the students selected you; they didn't just choose the most popular student this year.

We want to talk to you about his aggressive behavior and clowning around (to an African American mom about her son). 

Meanderings

I keep thinking I will enter something new into this journal, but so many scraps of stuff come my way every day, every week that I am finding it hard to decipher what's really important about all these tidbits. Is it the teacher's attitude as s/he tells the story? Is it the reality of the conversation I'm hearing retold? Is it the horror I feel that there is real evidence surrounding me that we live in a hostile world and arming individuals to be strong in the face of adversity is the best we can do? Should all acts of niceness be suspect?

I continue to think about Geoffrey Canada as a role model for problem solving. In his search for the answer to why it is that some children surface out of poverty successfully and break the cycle of poverty within their families and some don't has led him to decisions that are likely to have long-lasting positive impact on the communities where his work takes place.

I keep listening for the key phrase, the single difference, the one story that will release a vision for positive change.

More on friends

I didn't mean to enter this story here under diversity, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it says something about the treatment of a group of employees who are a diverse mix of Caucasian, Caribbean, African American, and Hispanic. Or is it just how garage culture works? I saw Jesus today, so he and Charles are the only two remaining from the "old crew."

Entry from Zebra Shoes:

While Gregory's virtual friends are popping out of the TV screen and becoming real live pass-you-on-the-street friends, I have lost a whole group of neighborhood friends. For 13 years I have been greeted at the local garage by a group of nine men.

I know their names because they have them on their shirts, but more importantly every December I angst over whether to give tips to each individual named in the holiday card or whether to give one amount of money to go in a pool for all nine. I always feel that I can never give enough to tell them how much I appreciate their attention to my presence in the neighborhood. They bring out my car as they see me emerge from school at the end of the day; they tell me when my gas is low and when my registration and inspection are due. They wish me a good vacation and remark when I've worked too many late nights.

A few weeks ago all but one familiar face was gone, replaced by a crew of new faces. I thought the managers were on vacation. I figured the garage had brought in new people for training. Finally, I asked Charles where everyone was and he said, "Transferred." That's all he said as he went to get my car.

My friends are all gone and I don't even know their last names. They are my first-name friends and I miss them. I wonder if they miss each other or it they're all together somewhere. Why is it better business to break up a good work team and neighborhood relationships? The only friend I have left in the neighborhood is the UPS man, Brian. He calls me by name even when he sees me blocks away on the edge of his route.

The other day I told Charles I was leaving the neighborhood, too. He said, "Will they replace you?" "Yes, " I replied. "With someone as good?"  I looked around the garage and I know the comment wasn't about me.

Mixed race

Is a child of one race who is adopted by parents of another race a mixed race child? Does that child look out at the parents who embrace her and see herself in their apparent race? Is it different from the child who is perceived by others to be of mixed race?

I have always thought about these things, but now, I must think about them and these are questions that are making my brain tired every day.

Identity

Weeks ago I started talking to the head of our English department about an assembly he was helping a student to plan. She had come back from the Student Leadership Conference in December, the counter-part to the adult People of Color Conference, urgent to confront issues of inequity that became clear to her as a result of her participation in the conference. She had an urgent personal story to tell and had concluded that the inequities she observed in a community away from home, were actually very present in her home community as well. She wanted to take action.

Over several weeks I became more involved in the planning of the assembly. At the same time I was thinking about Beverly Tatum's idea that one of three crucial steps to take in a school that strives to be more inclusive is to focus some effort on affirming identity. I suggested that we center the assembly on identity formation. We decided to ask a group of students and adults to tell a personal story that they would consider a "defining moment" in their lives.

In thinking about diversity at Horace Mann, we decided that one place to start was to ask members of our community to reflect on their development of a sense of self. Specifically, we asked them:

• If identity is shaped by social context, what are the defining moments that have had a lasting impact on the formation of your identity?
•  Can you recall a moment in time, an experience or an interaction with another person that caused you to consider how others perceive you or how you perceive others?

(excerpt from opening remarks at assembly)

We had 12 stories in all - the experience of moving from a situation of being in the majority to being in the minority of a group (and vice versa), the experience of being made more aware of one's difference when someone else points it out to you, a raised awareness to your own personal lens that affects the way you see the world around you, observing the stark reality of inequities in your own culture and gaining as understanding of your "attachment" to both the perceived and real positive and negative aspects of your cultural identity. All compelling; all about 3 minutes long. 

We let the stories tell the cumulative story on stage, using a microphone and music stand to define the spot where each person stood to tell their story. The staging turned out to be one of the most important decisions we made - having everyone sitting on stage in an arc with the speaking spot about mid-point of the arc. The people we chose were also key - popular, well-known, well-liked teachers, easily recognized, but maybe not so well-known staff, students who had passionate messages and had given serious thought to the issues that confronted them.

I hadn't given much thought to anything that might surface about the stories that would distinguish adults from students. It was difficult to get the students to tell their own story rather than the societal one. They all had some element of the institutions and people surrounding their story as reason for the story's existence, but also the resolution of the issue. They were asked, as they revealed their ideas, to talk more about personal experience. What happened to you? The adult stories were fully formed, but had taken on the life of a story - the ability to continue to evolve with every telling. The student's stories were raw, still unfolding, and perhaps needing the structure of the external context to have legitimacy. They were becoming personal stories.

In one of my last conversations with the English teacher before the assembly we talked about listening as a skill and a tool. The first time I was made aware of a pedagogy of listening was during a lecture by an Italian professor who often speaks and writes about the schools in Reggio Emilia. Carlina Rinaldi said that the meaning of what a person has to say is only revealed in the listening. You, the listener, give my words, the speaker, meaning. Your response to my words informs how I communicate what I want to say.

The teacher commented that we are a school filled with great speakers. Maybe listening is the thing we need to work on.  This was the lead-in to our stories:

Today you will hear a series of personal stories. Each participant has chosen to share something of themselves to demonstrate how they have come to understand this process of identity formation. The act of sharing stories is the opportunity for self-reflection, but it is also the opportunity to reach out to make a connection with others. We hope you will listen actively and find a meaningful connection between what you hear today and your own experiences.

Yesterday, I attended the local diversity conference. The opening remarks included an exercise called, "Yes, and...." It was a tool for more constructive listening in building a meaningful dialogue. She described how young children know how to develop play. They become very skilled at adding to their play mates' ideas,  often working together to construct complex and exciting possibilities. "We can build a boat." "Yes, and then we are on the ocean." "Yes, and then a storm comes."

Adults, she said, are more inclined to use a "Yes, but...." response to challenge the speaker, perhaps only listening for the opening to tell what they think or to simply agree or disagree.  Listening. It may be the missing tool in our diversity initiative toolbox.