In schooling, proponents of even suspect pedagogies and practices tend to insist that their preferred approach is 鈥渆vidence-based.鈥� This seems to be the case, yet again, in the debates swirling around 鈥渁nti-racist鈥� education. I鈥檝e encountered many claims I find unconvincing, especially when they鈥檙e advanced by impassioned advocates who don鈥檛 seem to have thought all that much about what constitutes credible evidence. (For more on how I think about evidence, check out my Educational Leadership from earlier in the spring.)
This has been particularly noticeable when it comes to racial 鈥渁ffinity spaces鈥� and the whole notion that public school systems should be comfortable separating students by race and ethnicity in order to address sensitive issues. Supporters routinely assert that there鈥檚 evidence to justify this practice, despite a startling lack of research actually supporting it (more on that in a moment).
For instance, Madison West High School, in Madison, Wisc., has hosted discussions in which and were segregated into groups based on their race. This spring, after one such exercise, the local NBC affiliate published 鈥�,鈥� in which a district spokesperson, the high school principal, and a University of Wisconsin sociology professor all echoed the district鈥檚 contention that this is 鈥渁 well established method.鈥�
In Massachusetts, this spring, Wellesley public schools hosted a 鈥淗ealing Space for Asian and Asian American students and others in the BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) community.鈥� The district鈥檚 explained, 鈥�*Note: This is a safe space for our Asian/Asian American and Students of Color, *not* for students who identify only as White.鈥� When parents expressed concerns, administrators said, 鈥淚t鈥檚 important to note that affinity spaces are not discriminatory鈥� and that 鈥渉osting affinity spaces is part of a long-term, evidence-based district strategy.鈥�
So, what鈥檚 the evidence behind this 鈥渨ell established,鈥� 鈥渆vidence-based鈥� strategy?
As it turns out, there鈥檚 not much. A comprehensive search of the academic databases ProQuest and Google Scholar returns just five articles purporting to examine the benefits of 鈥渞acial affinity鈥� spaces in K鈥�12 schooling (related articles focus on things such as video games or community centers). This is an astonishingly tiny figure, especially when compared to the thousands of studies on teacher evaluation, school choice, or math instruction鈥攖opics where the evidence is nonetheless regarded as hotly contested.
And it鈥檚 a stretch to suggest that the handful of research that does exist constitutes 鈥渆vidence.鈥� The only that even claims to review the research literature was a 2012 鈥渙nline submission鈥� to the Education Resources Information Center by Lindsay L. Schrader and K. C. Holder, in which they make the case for 鈥渇ormal affinity groups鈥� and insist that 鈥渢hese groups have shown again and again to be a powerful investment for students of color.鈥� Yet, of the 17 citations, just one supposedly justifies this strong claim. And that citation, 鈥淏atiste, G. (2006),鈥� turns out not to be a study or report at all, but a data-free National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS) sharing the 鈥淣AIS perspective鈥� on affinity spaces.
The rest of the results are more akin to author essays and testimonials than any kind of systematic attempt to gauge or assess the impact of such spaces. A 2016 by Cindy P. Chun employs a 鈥淒ynamic Narrative Approach鈥� to interview 10 鈥渄iversity practitioners鈥� at independent schools in order to identify 鈥渂est practices of affinity groups,鈥� though Chun blithely explains that it鈥檚 not her intention to provide evidence regarding the efficacy of these recommended practices. A 2017 鈥溾�� by Farima Pour-Khorshid, published in Teaching Education, looks at how a 鈥渞acial affinity group became an important space for learning and healing for its [dozen] members鈥� and then broadly asserts, based on the author鈥檚 judgement rather than a measurable, replicable study, that racial affinity spaces promote 鈥減ersonal, political, relational, and pedagogical growth.鈥�
And, in a 2019 , Ryan Oto and Anita Chikkatur study an affinity group that a teacher created for a single class at a private high school. While they provide no systematic data on academic, social, or other outcomes, they opine that the group yielded a 鈥渃urriculum that was culturally affirming for students of color by de-centering whiteness.鈥� While that may well be true, they did not offer any verifiable or falsifiable data showing that this had any of the claimed benefits for kids.
Indeed, the fifth study, Ryan Kimmet鈥檚 2021 University of Pennsylvania on 鈥渟tudent perceptions of white racial affinity groups,鈥� raised some red flags. Kimmet reported that, while students found value in discussing issues of race, they made clear 鈥渢hat the spaces created for affinity groups were not, in fact, safe spaces.鈥� He observed, 鈥淭here were strongly negative social repercussions for making comments that the majority of students viewed as out of line with the majority鈥檚 way of thinking.鈥�
In short, the supposed evidence demonstrating the effectiveness of racial affinity spaces is nowhere to be found. Interviewing people who think like you do or visiting a school to write about a program you like is just fine, and can offer much of value. But it鈥檚 ludicrous to suggest that the existence of such 鈥渟tudies鈥� make an approach 鈥渨ell established鈥� or 鈥渆vidence-based.鈥� If I visit a program I like or interview 10 people who agree with me, and then write it up and publish it in an academic outlet, it doesn鈥檛 make my views true. And it doesn鈥檛 make them evidence. They鈥檙e simply my opinions, published in a fancier place.
At the end of the day, suggesting that racial affinity spaces are an evidence-based practice is simply irresponsible鈥攁nd does grave violence to the meaning of 鈥渆vidence-based.鈥� Many have justifiably come to regard such claims with suspicion, precisely because this language is so often used to justify suspect practices. If the educators, advocates, and researchers who champion actual evidence-based educational practices would like skeptical lawmakers, parents, and pundits to look upon their efforts with more confidence, they鈥檇 do well to call out partisans when they dress preferred practices in scientific garb.
