(This the fifth post in a special six-part series. You can see Part One , Part Two Part Three , and Part Four .)
The new question-of-the-week is:
What are the best ways to respond to educators who say they 鈥渄on鈥檛 see color鈥� when they teach?
NOTE: Shannon R. Waite, Ed.D., a clinical assistant professor in the Educational Leadership, Administration, and Policy division in the Graduate School of Education at Fordham University, is guest-hosting and editing several posts in this series. You can read her introduction to the series . Additional posts sharing responses to this question will appear throughout the school year.
Her first two posts shared responses focusing on 鈥渢he historical context and a discussion of the educational impact colorblindness has had on groups who have been 鈥榦thered.鈥� 鈥�
鈥荣 responses were written by Judd Rothstein and Terri N. Watson, Ph.D.
You can listen to a I had with Shannon, Terri, and Chris Emdin on this topic and listen to previous episodes of the show . You might also be interested in previous posts that have appeared here on .
Kris DeFilippis and Dr. Gholnecsar (Gholdy) Muhammad shared their thoughts in .
The third and fourth posts answered the question in the context of: 鈥淗ow colorblindness impacts the experience and quality of education from the perspectives of practitioners, parent advocates, and students.鈥�
Jehan Pitt and Kaliris Salas-Ramirez, Ph.D., contributed answers in s column.
Jia Lee, Melissa Payne, and Brady Smith were s guests.
The fifth and sixth posts will explore: 鈥淲hy colorblindness continues to be perpetuated in the field of education and the cost of not addressing it.鈥�
Today鈥檚 responses come from Dr. Marcelle Mentor, Jane Bolgatz, and Dr. Akane Zusho.
Response From Dr. Marcelle Mentor
Dr. Marcelle Mentor is a lecturer in the English Education Department at Teachers College, Columbia University. She is an activist, a mother of two sons, a wife, a researcher, a scholar, and teller of stories. She believes in equality in access of education for all.
On being racially colorblind
鈥淣ever trust anyone who says they do not see color. This means to them, you are invisible.鈥� - Nayyirah Waheed (Poet)
Having been born and raised in Apartheid South Africa, I was attuned to be acutely aware of my race as I grew up in law-enforced segregated living and educational environments. I experienced my elementary, high school, and undergrad education in institutes demarcated for coloured children. When starting my career as a high school teacher in 1992, as a coloured person, I could only apply to coloured schools. Post-apartheid, in the year 2000, was I was able to apply and teach at a school that had previously only accepted white students. Race and color delineation were completely ingrained in me. Everything about me was seen through the lens of my race definition.
After moving to New York City in 2005, I was not prepared for the very clear lines of racial discrimination in the U.S.A. The laws may have been erased from the law books, but a very definitive and effective system of racial disparity was鈥攖o my very trained eye鈥攓uite apparent in the educational spaces I navigated in N.Y.C. Money and real estate (ownership of property) were used as ways to make clear delineations based on class and were sophisticated, effective ways of keeping black and brown children out of schools that were higher resourced and in better neighborhoods. So, when people, here, in the U.S.A. tell me they don鈥檛 see race, or they鈥檙e colorblind, I scoff at them and ask them if they don鈥檛 see me.
that colorblind racism is a post-civil-rights-era form of racism that has a " ... suave, apparently nonracial character ...鈥� but nonetheless " ... is still about justifying the various social arrangements and practices that maintain white privilege.鈥� This is the ugly truth based within this seemingly benign play of colorblindness. It is violent because of its very insidious nature. To many, a spirit of colorblindness characterizes the beginning of a 鈥減ost-racial鈥� society, but that colorblindness may actually propagate existing racial inequities. When race is made salient, people shift from viewing colorblindness as a distributive principle (i.e., everyone should have equal outcomes) to viewing it as a procedural principle (i.e., everyone should receive equal treatment, regardless of existing race-based inequalities).
I would argue that when we say that we are racially colorblind, we render black and brown bodies invisible and we render their experiences, lives, and traumas moot and mute. We silence whole truths and whitewash a very real and painful history of people across the U.S.A.
Rather than disregarding the race-based inequalities rampant in our schools and general society, I would urge that we instead address the intricacies of:
路 Unpacking privilege
路 Acknowledging racial trauma
路 Implicit bias training
路 Diversity training
The fact that our students are bombarded with images and incidents on social and mainstream media means that they have access to, may be victims of, and, sometimes, are complicit in racial discrimination. In my recent work with Literacy Unbound, an initiative that runs out of Teachers College, Columbia University, we studied and 鈥渞emixed鈥� Zora Neale Hurston鈥檚 Their Eyes Were Watching God. Some of the teacher and student players asked who we should cast as Janie; for instance, what about talent? Could only a person of color play Janie鈥檚 role? This led us to look into the literature on colorblind casting and to explore some deep and troubling occasions where white actors had played the roles of characters who were of color. We also spent time reading about, questioning, and discussing blackface. As I work with teachers and facilitate teacher trainings, I find it imperative to make sure we speak about cultural references. It is also important that I model these teaching practices for students as they occur in the classroom day to day.
Thus, as educators we are called to see each of our students as individuals. We have to acknowledge their lived experience in order to help them navigate the world they live in. The world we live in is unfair and unjust; it discriminates on the basis of race, class, culture, gender, sexual orientation, ability, etc. As educators, we are called to teach for social justice and to care for and love all students. Ascribing to the values of colorblind racial ideology makes our teaching less effective. As Evan P. Apfelbaum, Michael I. Norton, and Samuel R. Sommers , 鈥淪hutting our eyes to the complexities of race does not make them disappear but does make it harder to see that color blindness often creates more problems than it solves.鈥�
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Response From Jane Bolgatz
Jane Bolgatz is an associate professor of social studies teacher education at Fordham University鈥檚 Graduate School of Education. She also teaches in Fordham鈥檚 Contemporary Learning and Interdisciplinary Research doctoral program.
A Conversation between educators about 鈥渟eeing color鈥�
Robin DiAngelo suggests that people often think of racism as individual, prejudiced people using racist terms, denying a person a job because of their race, or otherwise discriminating. But racism also happens when individuals claim to not 鈥渟ee color.鈥� Nancy DiTomaso writes that white people enact racist policies and foster discriminatory practices unless we self-consciously do something different. As a white person, it is especially important for me to understand how race operates. Feigning ignorance about the ways that whiteness benefits me and hurts people of color by not seeing color is not only dishonest, it is harmful and dehumanizing.
鈥�,鈥� , and all serve to support, reproduce, and adapt white domination in our society. Networking and implicit bias are examples. I have networks of contacts through my work, alumni connections, place of worship, and extended family. I can use those networks to help other people secure educational and economic opportunities. Unless I consciously think about race鈥攖hat is, unless I 鈥渟ee color"鈥� that my networks are predominantly white and therefore, because networks are self-referential, most often advance opportunities for other white people. Moreover, I have biases toward people in my in-group that . Implicit bias can compound the effect of my white-promoting network.
Below is a conversation I might have with a colleague who claims she does not see color:
Ellen: I don鈥檛 think I should see color.
Jane: Why not?
Ellen: If I don鈥檛 see color, then I won鈥檛 be prejudiced.
Jane: I certainly don鈥檛 want you to be prejudiced. But let鈥檚 celebrate racial differences. We want all students to know that they are beautiful. When we say we don鈥檛 see color, we normalize whiteness and convey the message that students of color should be ashamed of their race.
Ellen: To tell you the truth, I鈥檓 scared to say anything about race. I鈥檓 white. What can I say?
Jane: I hear you. Talking about race and racism can be challenging. You can start by mentioning race. Instead of saying, 鈥淪ee the lady in the blue coat,鈥� if she is white, say 鈥淪ee the white lady in the blue coat.鈥� And then you can start to ask questions. 鈥淲hen I look at my students鈥� grades, I see patterns that fall along racial lines. What might be going on here?鈥� You might discover that you have biases that you didn鈥檛 know about. The only way you can tackle these implicit biases is to investigate them. You are probably going to make some mistakes, but it is better to try and talk about race than not.
Ellen: Why? Why can鈥檛 I just teach?
Jane: Teaching involves seeing the students in front of us, understanding and appreciating them. If students don鈥檛 feel valued and respected, how can they learn? But 鈥渟eeing color鈥� is not just about the color of people鈥檚 skin. Seeing color means understanding that our lives are forged through racialized experiences and histories. Race positions students. For example, I have had particular educational and economic experiences because I am white, and my white son has advantages as a result.
Ellen: How?
Jane: Despite being Jewish, my dad鈥檚 whiteness enabled him to buy a home in an all-white community. Precisely because it was in an all-white (read 鈥済ood鈥�) neighborhood, the value of that home increased over time. My white parents could borrow against the value of that home to send me to private school and college without a lot of student debt. In turn, then, I could buy my first home and accumulate more of my own wealth. I can give my son all sorts of enrichment activities like expensive private music lessons (Hamilton, Darity, Price, Sridharan & Tippett. 2015).
Ellen: So, isn鈥檛 it all about class differences?
Jane: You can鈥檛 separate race and class. My white family is able to go to 鈥渂etter鈥� schools and accumulate wealth because of racism. When whites think too many people of color are moving into a neighborhood, they leave or are not willing to pay as much for the real estate there. You need to see race in that dynamic. You need to understand your own and your students鈥� racialized experiences.
Ellen: So what am I supposed to do? I can鈥檛 solve these huge issues.
Jane: No, but you can make sure that your words and actions do not position whites and whiteness as normal and good and everyone else as different or 鈥渙ther鈥� (Kay, 2018). How does your curriculum help students celebrate diversity? Who are the characters in the books your students are reading? What are the names and where are the settings in the math problems your students are solving? And how does the curriculum help students interrogate injustice? Who is central in the histories you are teaching and who is on the periphery? Who are you using as model scientists? Artists? Musicians? Do students learn how people have perpetuated and fought racist systems (Southern Poverty Law Center, 2016)?
Ellen: OK. But what if parents complain?
Jane: Your school probably has a mission statement that says something about preparing citizens for democracy or for our global society. Pretty hard to do that if you do not talk about race, racism, and equity (Bolgatz, 2005). Think about 鈥渟eeing color鈥� like teaching fractions. You wouldn鈥檛 avoid fractions because you might make a mistake, or a student might ask a question you cannot answer, or parents don鈥檛 like your approach. You get in there and tackle the subject. Do the same with race and racism. Our humanity is at stake.
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Response From Dr. Akane Zusho
Dr. Akane Zusho is currently a professor of educational psychology in the Graduate School of Education at Fordham University. She received her B.A. and M.A. in psychology as well as her Ph.D. in education and psychology from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.
Uncloaking the Model Minority Myth
What comes to mind when you think of Asian Americans? Often, you hear comments such as, 鈥淥h, they鈥檙e good at math and science,鈥� or that 鈥淭hey鈥檙e quiet and studious鈥攖hey all want to be doctors and lawyers.鈥� Such comments often perpetuate the model minority myth (MMM)鈥攁 stereotype that suggests that Asian Americans are more academically and economically successful than other racial minority groups given their hard work, perseverance, and their unabiding belief in the American dream.
However, it is important to note that the MMM is much more than a stereotype. The term dates back to a New York Times Magazine article during the civil rights era, where it was used by William Petersen to advance the myth of meritocracy and ultimately, white supremacy. In the article, Petersen attributed the success of Japanese Americans to their 鈥淭okugawa鈥� values of diligence and need for achievement鈥攁t once valorizing and othering Japanese Americans to shame African Americans鈥攁 process described by Claire Jean Kim as racial triangulation.
Racial triangulation occurs through two intertwined processes (Kim, 1999; Poon et al., 2016). It occurs when a dominant group (whites) partially validates or valorizes another minoritized group (Asian Americans) to shame a third group (African Americans). However, in an effort to limit the political and civic voice of the valorized group, emphasis is placed on their 鈥渇oreignness,鈥� effectively othering middleman minorities such as Asian Americans. Petersen did this, for example, by referring to Japanese Americans鈥� Tokugawa values, insinuating that their values could never be American.
The process of racial triangulation鈥攐f which the MMM is a prime example鈥攅ssentially places Asian Americans in a racial bind between whites and other people of color. To that end, as Poon and her colleagues underscore, 鈥渢he MMM is not simply a stereotype of self-sufficient, high-academic minority achievement. Instead, it is a much more insidious racial device used to uphold a global system of racial hierarchies and White supremacy鈥� (p. 474). It has resulted in the homogenization of Asian groups into an Asian/Pacific Islander panethnicity, effectively silencing the lived experiences of members of Pacific Islander and indigenous populations. It is the embodiment of cultural racism鈥攁 tool used to distract us from scrutinizing how systems of white dominance are replicated and maintained.
Indeed, it has even distracted well-minded scholars. A recent review of the literature on the MMM has found that much of the scholarly conversation at the higher education level has focused primarily on discrediting it, rather than critically analyzing its origins and its intent (Poon et al., 2016). In doing so, we have more often than not fallen prey to a deficit narrative by pointing to statistics on educational failure and experiences with barriers to success, thereby highlighting educational deficits among certain segments of the Asian population.
We cannot afford to be distracted any longer. There is too much at stake. Rather than pitting one group against another, we need to promote a narrative that builds all students up鈥攁 narrative that documents the diverse lived experiences of all students and that highlights the factors that allows them to thrive and not just survive. To do that, we could all benefit from a more critical race perspective on our work. Let us move on from the MMM.
Look for Part Six in a few days...