Today at lunch…

I mentioned my plans to transition out of K-12 and into reading/writing/teaching about women’s issues. I highlighted rape culture and sexual violence and fibroids by name, although my net is cast a bit wider than these. The woman who inquired about my goals made the raised eyebrow/pulled down lips/impressed face and nodded. “Wow. Good for you. What got you moving in that direction?”

Who knows?

It brings to mind a similar question asked of Angela Davis. In a lecture recorded as The Prison Industrial Complex, she discussed her activist beginnings: “What made you decide to become an activist? What was that pivotal event in your life? And for years and years I thought about it.” She went on to mention the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing that killed four little girls in Birmingham, Alabama, and how she initially believed that to be the catalyst. Upon further reflection, she realized that wasn’t it:

Finally, after struggling with this for years, I decided that there really was no particular moment when I decided to become an activist. As a matter of fact, I grew up with the idea that in order to live in segregated circumstances… my parents basically taught us that we had to be critical of the way things were. Otherwise, we could not affirm our own humanity. And that we had to dedicate our lives to the kind of transformation that would make this a better world to live in for all of us. And so I’ve learned that wherever I am, whatever I happen to be doing at the moment, I have to fulfill that commitment that has informed my life.

Now, I don’t have years invested in feminist activism and advocacy, so it’s not like I have a long history to consider. Despite my brief affiliation, I’m hard pressed to supply a satisfying answer. In fact, today was my first encounter with the question; I’ve simply never thought about why. So I sputtered. In fact, I’m writing now, more as a think-aloud, than to offer a definitive answer.

I think it’s a series of dots that are just now being connected. For instance, I’ve practiced Nichiren Buddhism for 13 years now. Studying and practicing a life philosophy grounded in human potential and equality leans one ever toward more progressive and compassionate ways of knowing and being. Encountering Paulo Freire and critical pedagogy in graduate school 5 years ago is another dot. A huge one really. Unlike the constant flow of the water of Buddhism, reading Freire and studying critical inquiry pedagogy caused a fiery, seismic shift.

Then there was the class that wasn’t. The University of Georgia offered a course on Black women’s narratives. I attended the first day, but enrollment was low, and the class didn’t make. The professor showed Chimamanda Adichie’s TED Talk on the Danger of the Single Story – which became seed as much as dot – and I eventually ordered all the books on her syllabus. I started my own class really, and began reading (and writing) when I could. Dot.

A series of shares in the Red Clay Writing Project’s Summer Institute led me to brainstorm a study on teenage rape narratives, and I wrote and studied my own as a pilot. Dot. An article here or there would move me to anger, tears, or elation. Dot. And suddenly, here we are. At the beginning, still. And like any other journey, each day is an opportunity for another step.

Onward.

Saying Hello

I’ve been writing here and there, on sticky notes, mobile devices, and the like. I have many posts in draft form, and lots of prompts for others, but I’m finding it difficult to polish a piece (or a thought) for public consumption.

I know why this is.

My professional life currently takes up a lot of resources. For better or for worse, this will decrease in the coming weeks, and I hope plan to be more visible here.

Despite my lowered profile around these parts, I’ve committed myself to begin working on my book/workshop project in earnest this month. It’s a birthday gift to myself, inspired by Joshunda’s act of self-publishing her book for her birthday this year. I hope my work helps women and girls find, claim and refine their voices in powerful ways. At minimum, I hope it will help at least one.

With that wish in mind, I want to share something with you. It was an activity for the Red Clay 2011 Summer Institute (SI) – UGA’s affiliate of the National Writing Project. Early on, I blogged about it, and at the end of the SI, I created a digital version of “What I Want My Words To Do To You.” It’s low resolution, so bear that in mind. I think it encapsulates who I am, and what I hope to accomplish:

Right outcome, wrong reasons.

A few days ago, I wrote on the multiculturalism of language, and the absolute futility of excluding words from standardized tests because they aren’t “neutral enough.” Well, it looks as though New York’s DOE abandoned the (doomed to fail) effort:

One week after New York’s Department of Education drew controversy with a request to ban 50 words and references from the city’s standardized tests – including “dinosaur,” “birthday” and “religion” – the department announced Tuesday that it is abandoning the plan.

I disagree with those who think it is simply political correctness gone too far. That dismisses the larger issue as a problem with “some bureaucrats somewhere” trying too hard to “be nice.” The truth is, because of the inherent multiculturalism of life events and the words used to describe those events, someone will always be impacted when asked to reflect on those words. That’s just common sense!

When we acknowledge the reality of the diverse and divergent experiences of our students, we’ll move toward teaching/assessing that inquires into and critiques language, rather than continuing teaching/assessing that encourages memorization or avoidance of language altogether.

Here’s the update on the NY DOE.

The Multiculturalism of Language

Divorce. Dinosaurs, Birthdays. Religion. Halloween. Christmas. Television. These are a few of the 50-plus words and references the New York City Department of Education is hoping to ban from the city’s standardized tests.

What interests me about this topic is not the seemingly careful selection of words for inclusion/exclusion. Nay, I’m intrigued that we still hold firm to the belief that language is, can be, or should be, neutral. Maybe someone has identified a few “hot button” words that are potentially “more loaded” than others (debatable), but this idea, that somehow language and word choice is ever truly decontextualized (or even should be) is not just silly, it’s dangerous.

In this world of high-stakes testing, an ever diversifying population is expected to magically measure up to standardized notions of sameness. Those who don’t are deemed failures.

Actually, conversations like this – that some words and concepts are potentially offensive, triggering – should help us to see that standardized tests can scarcely measure a neutral or objective standard. The standards are always someone’s standards. What is assumed common is always someone’s view of what’s common. This means that for someone else (often people of lower socioeconomic status or people of color), these concepts, ideas, words, are NOT standard.  The truth is, we each embody many intersections. Our language choices, including “neutral” words like family, reflect those intersections.

This discussion shows that testing (and schooling) cannot really be “culture blind,” despite the fact that the very idea of standardizing rests on this premise.

Read Brian Vitagliano’s article in full, here.

The truth of education (or more to the point, schooling)?

To educe is to lead forth; to seduce is to lead away….I wish I had suggested that our departments of education be called, if we were honest, departments of seduction, for that is what they do: lead us away from ourselves.

Derrick Jensen, Walking on Water, p. 15

What I Want My Words to Do To You

I want my words to move you.
Uplift you, inspire you, free you.
I want you to see things differently.
I want you to cry, to laugh, to be present.

I want you to go tell someone you love them – even a stranger – and mean it.
I want you to realize your divinity.

I want you to recognize yourself. Your struggles, obstacles, your victories. Your truth. Your secrets.

I want you to think, to question, to reconsider all that you knew before.

I want you to say amen.
I want you to nod in silent agreement, and then go do something.
I want to you walk differently in the world because you are different, because of these words.