"Show, don't tell" was a common theme in all my writing and literature classes, both the ones I attended and the ones I ran. I'd tell my students as I'd been told before, "Don't just say your character is nice. Show them running to help the person who just dropped their books in the hallway or offering the friend who forgot their lunch a sandwich." The "show, don't tell" philosophy also applied when I wanted to teach my students about truly meaningful things, concepts they may have only half-formed opinions of, concepts like love, beauty, stereotypes, and racism.
From an early age, I have been in awe of the civil rights movement and all the ideas that led to it. Perhaps it was because my hero was my fourth and fifth grade teacher, a black woman that has remained my inspiration in the classroom for years. Whatever the case, throughout my schooling years I chose the topic for projects, took elective courses on the subject in college, and couldn't wait to begin incorporating the ideas in my own classroom. I knew when I broached the topic in my classrooms in Winder, Georgia, I'd need to apply the "show, don't tell" mentality.
In college, I took three courses within the same year: the history of the civil rights movement, the poetry of the civil rights movement, and African American literature. In my history course, I learned a myriad of facts, but in my literature classes I experienced what only good literature can produce: the ability to feel the history. As readers know, good writing sucks you in and makes you feel as though you are walking in someone else's shoes. I wrote an essay that year about my decision to teach literature over history because of this very idea. I committed to teaching these important historical concepts and having critical conversations with my students.
I showed them Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speeches, the poems of Langston Hughes, Gwendolyn Brooks, and Alice Walker, the Ted Talks of Chimimanda Adichi and Lupita Nyongo, and While the World Watched, an autobiography of a survivor of the Birmingham church bombings, among many other pieces of literature. Their words often brought me to tears, and I wanted to drop them in front of my students and stand back quietly, watching fireworks go off in their minds. I watched as they expressed their rage, voiced their disbelief, wrote their own beautiful pieces of literature in response, and circle discussions that would leave them begging for more time to explore the ideas with each other. These were the days that I felt like a stellar teacher.
Then, I'd walk out of my school building into the bright light of the world and I'd find myself silent in the face of subtle racism and silent in the face of the complex issues surrounding our world today. As I woke this morning and read my Bible, every verse jumped off the page and seemed to be saying the same thing to me. It's not time to be silent. The words of Martin Luther King, Jr. came to mind, "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." I'd analyze this quote with my students and we'd ask ourselves, "Where would we stand? What would we have done if we were living during this time?"
When my girls see these recent events in history and ask me about it, I don't want to tell them that I hid in my white privilege, not saying anything simply because I had that convenience and no one was expecting to hear anything from me.
Part of the problem is that I have been given the opportunity to study the whole story in depth, and when white peers post silly memes or make comments about "race baiting" that simplify and attempt to invalidate the problem, I feel helpless. How can one facebook comment show them the fault in their thinking? I know telling them just won't work. So, I shake my head silently. Silently.
This morning I read, "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves" (Romans 12). And sometimes love doesn't sound like silence. So here are some honest thoughts:
Should the confederate flag be taken down? Absolutely. Why has it taken this long? I've tackled this issue with many students in my day, explaining to them the symbolism in the flag and asking if they think it is worth it to make their black peers feel so uncomfortable. Fortunately, each has agreed it is not worth it, and discontinued their use of the symbol. In order to "show, don't tell", I encourage you to read Ben Watson's post on this issue at the end of this essay. He is so balanced, speaking from personal experience about how the flag makes him feel and how it is a struggle not to assume things about people who display this flag.
I've been shocked and appalled by some of the comments on this issue. People saying, "What next, remove it from the history books just so that no one is offended?" Of course not, but can we please remove it as a source of pride when it makes so many people feel so uncomfortable and hated? It offends me, too, and makes me feel ashamed. It can certainly remain in the history books next to pictures of lynchings in the south and the Ku Klux Klan, or maybe even next to the swatstika.
Many will say it symbolizes the civil war by way of states rights and that slavery was not the only issue. However, we know that slavery is the heart of the issue. Don't believe me? Do the research and look into the founders of the flag and their viewpoints
To my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, I have to ask, is the flag an image we should really take pride in? As a wise pastor I know recently posted, the call of Christ is to lay down our very lives for our brothers. Shouldn't you be able to simply change your mind about a symbol that means hate from a racist heritage? I think we can love our Southern roots. Southerners have awesome idioms, hospitality skills like no others, sweet tea, and homegrown tomatoes you can buy on the side of the road- and whites and blacks alike can celebrate the awesomeness of those things. I also think we can look realistically at the hate in our history's past and be ashamed, desiring reconciliation.
Racism still exists. I know this in part because of my sometimes reserved personality. I have been put in awkward situations multiple times where racist jokes have been told, and by observation I saw that the social norm was to laugh. I have furrowed my brows and felt sick in these circumstances- always thinking of the perfect thing to say too late. Growing up, I definitely overheard occasional racist conversations because "the coast was clear" and I was white. And there are times when I have spoken out, but have been haunted because I know it wasn't enough. Like the time I was asked by a woman I was working with if teaching in Athens was rough because the kids are "all black." To which I promptly responded "absolutely not," but am still wondering what else I should have said. From an early age, I knew comments like these where wrong. My mama raised me right. Still though, I pray for more courage and effective things to say as I am faced with these situations in the future.
I am reminded of a powerful portion of MLK's "I Have a Dream Speech," in which he says "many of our white brothers...have come to realize that their destiny is tied up in our destiny." As a white person in America, I know I have privilege because I can look the other way and not be affected by racism, but for others it is a daily reality. However, I do care. And it saddens my heart daily to think about what many of my beloved students have to face in this society, and to hear their stories in my classroom and on the news. We can pretend to be colorblind all we want, but it's not helping anybody, and we are not all the same. Some struggle much more and have an ancestry that we can't and shouldn't wipe away. As white people who seek unity, we have to see the struggle as real, to validate it because it exists, and work toward peace. For those that say "not everything is about race" or "we experience racism, too," just stop. It's not the same. People don't clutch their purse tight to their chest when you get on the UGA bus. You have the convenience of looking at these issues only when they are blowing up your newsfeed.
This country has made so much progress and we still have farther to go. Be a peacemaker. Educate yourself. Speak out when a racist joke is told at a family reunion. Abandon your stereotypes and biases because they don't look like love. Be transformed by the renewing of your minds. In addition to Ben Watson's post, I encourage you to check out just these few pieces of literature, a great starting point that I have used in my classroom for years. Don't dismiss the experience of such an important portion of our population. Look at these issues with a soft and reflective heart. They show the story of the African American experience in our country and have been essential for developing empathy. I know that through this post I probably didn't say everything right- but that fear has kept me silent for too long. In honor of the lives that were lost in Charleston and the conversations people are having on race, I wanted to simply offer the little I know and be an advocate for change.
Resources:
Ben Watson's facebook post:
"The Danger of a Single Story"- If you've never seen this, take the time to watch. I began all my conversations about race with my students with this video, having them write responses and having a circle discussion about the things she brings up. It evoked common experiences for everyone, and I think it brought us to a place of empathy and understanding before jumping into history.
Langston Hughes' poetry is some of my favorite. I particularly love "I, Too" where he speaks as a slave being sent from the table when company comes. He envisions a future where people see his beauty and are ashamed of their actions. "Harlem" helps us understand the possible outcomes of generations of men and women who are told to put their dreams on hold.
Lupita Nyongo's speech, in which she discusses overcoming her issues with self image. Very relatable for any girl, and yet you can see the added challenge of having no one in the popular media that looks like you. As a mom of girls, this one breaks my heart a little and I love the conclusion. Only 5 minutes.
While the World Watched by Carolyn Maull McKinstry. I read this novel in maybe two sittings and was thrilled to have a class set to read with my students. It is about the church bombing in Birmingham in 1963 in which some of her best friends were killed. Filled with anecdotes about growing up in the south during this time, you can't help but walk away understanding the African American struggle in our country more and more. As a mother, I'll never forget her confusion as a child as to why she was not ever going to be allowed to go to the theme park they passed frequently simply because of the color of her skin.
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