This is America
By Jared R. Francis | @jaredrfrancis
This is an adapted version of the message I shared with my team following the murder of George Floyd.
In the hours after the second night of protest over the murder of George Floyd, we invited a student to speak with our staff during our now virtual morning meetings. I asked the student to share her reflections after submitting her final paper for the AP course she participated in this semester. As is our routine, we started our meeting in small virtual break out rooms, to answer the day's prompt: "What is something you are proud of?
I shared a group with the student and the teacher who had taught the AP course. In response to the prompt, the teacher stated, "I am proud to be alive." Next, the student shared a similar sentiment, "I'm proud to see another day because a lot of people aren't seeing another day right now... I'm proud my mother can provide for me."
The teacher, a black man, who only days earlier had shepherded a class of juniors through their first AP Course, was "proud" to be able to breathe. The young woman, who only a year ago, doubted her intellectual prowess, had persisted through her toughest academic challenge, yet was "proud" to have sustenance. The only words I could muster were, "I don't hear no white folks saying they're 'proud' to be alive."
It cannot be that the bar our children hold for themselves is breath or that the elders who stand up to inspire them are thankful for their existence.
This is a moment to examine power. Police violence will bring death to black bodies until those with the power to end it, act. It really is that simple. Quoting Dr. King's appeals for unity is popular at times like this; however, I'd like to offer his reflections on power:
"Power, properly understood, is the ability to achieve purpose. It is the strength required to bring about social, political or economic change. What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive and that love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice. Justice at its best, is love correcting everything that stands against love."
As we demand better of those with the power to end police violence, we must examine how we might direct our own power in service of racial justice. Not our power to tweet, hashtag, circle up, or offer thoughts and prayers. Rather a reflection on the power we hold over black and brown children every day.
In her reflections about the AP course, we heard what real pride sounds like: "I felt good about myself after submitting it. It had an impact on me. I learned that just because I'm scared of failing, I just can’t stop. Whether I fail or not, I know I gave it my all." Our children should be proud of achieving their goals, not the acknowledgment of their humanity.
Yet, as happy as I was about her achievement, I had to examine how I had used my own power. Yes, I had used my power to bring AP courses to students who were not traditionally afforded such opportunities— at her prior school, she would not have had that chance to demonstrate her potential. Yet, I had also used my power to limit participation in the course to students who had reached proficiency on previous state assessments. I made this decision because of my fear that students might fail or be overwhelmed—racist ideas that had captured the mind in my own black body. Whatever my intentions were, it is the consequences of our use of power that matter. In this case, my power had denied other black and brown children the opportunity to say, "Whether I fail or not, I know I gave it my all."
My fear allowed a racist policy to live in our school. As we've discussed before, racism is not about prejudice; it is about policies that yield and sustain racial inequity:
"A antiracist policy is any measure that produces or sustains racial equity between racial groups. By policy, I mean written and unwritten laws, rules, procedures, processes, regulations, and guidelines that govern people. There is no such thing as a nonracist or race-neutral policy. Every policy in every institution in every community in every nation is producing or sustaining either racial inequity or equity between racial groups."
Loving our kids without intentionally using the power inherent in our practices and policies is an "anemic" response in the effort to bring justice to the communities we serve. We must merge our love with power: through the choices and policies we make in our classrooms, grade books, curriculum, and relationships with students. How are you using your power right now to produce or sustain racial inequity or equity between racial groups? This moment demands nothing less, than using our power in service of racial justice.
For my part, I will use my power to fight for and enact a policy of offering the same slate of AP courses to all juniors next year, regardless of prior academic performance, because all students deserve the opportunity to feel pride in their intellect and innate resilience.
Do not think that because the headlines of the day are about police violence, that this is not a moment to examine your own power. Do not think that you do not have the power to create racial justice because of your station. Do not think that eliminating racial inequity has nothing to do with you. It may be that police violence, set upon a black body—only when captured on video as it were—has the power to arouse America's moral consciousness. But let's be clear that racist policies in education, health care, housing, and financial services are midwives to racial inequity and are of a kind with the police violence that has called our fellow citizens to the streets. As proud as we might be in our roles as public servants, there are no participation medals in the struggle for racial justice. There are no "race neutral" actions; therefore, there is no pass for a public servant or nonprofit employee who fails to use their power towards racial equity. We won’t always get it right, but each of us is accountable to continuing to reflect on how we use our power in service of justice.
One final reflection from Dr. King:
"Social justice and progress are the absolute guarantors of riot prevention. There is no other answer. Constructive social change will bring certain tranquillity; evasions will merely encourage turmoil."
