As you begin to try to create a socially-just environment in your classroom, you will quickly realize that the journey is not just about your students, but also about your personal journey. So far, we've defined social justice and examined its essential purpose within the classroom; before we begin implementing lessons, we must embark upon a personal journey of self-evaluation and learning. Basically, we must come to a realization that we cannot teach what we do not know.
When I began my social justice journey years ago, my feelings came from my own personal experience as an African-American woman. The self-awareness necessary to do this work was rooted solely in my own desire to be seen as equal to both men and the white majority. I was often frustrated and confused by those who could not or would not accept my experience as definitive proof that racism and sexism existed. After all, they had met me, right? They acknowledged my integrity and honesty, correct? If they could trust me, why couldn't they also trust my experience?
Last year, however, the light bulb came on for me when a colleague introduced me to Daring Greatly by Brene` Brown. When my social justice cohort began reading it, I questioned what this book had to do with social justice. I mean, we had just finished reading Whistling Vivaldi by Claude M. Steele and Why Race and Culture Matter in Schools by Tyrone C. Howard; both books spoke directly to social justice in the classroom and gave us specific strategies for doing so. Now we were reading this book about shame, guilt and vulnerability? What in the world did that have to do with my determination to make the world better, one student at a time?
It took a re-reading of this book to realize that this is directly related to the work we do in social justice. Discussions about race inevitably bring out a person's feelings of shame and vulnerability. Concerns about being perceived as racist or somehow sharing culpability or being duplicitous in the social injustices we see lead to what Robin DiAngelo termed "white fragility." She defines white fragility as "a state in which even a minimum amount of racial stress becomes intolerable, triggering a range of defensive moves. These moves include the outward display of emotions such as anger, fear, and guilt, and behaviors such as argumentation, silence, and leaving the stress-inducing situation (DiAngelo 57)." As I attempted to understand some of my more resistant colleagues from an empathetic perspective, I realized that this fragility is at the root of it. At the root of the fragility are feelings of shame and guilt. Before we can begin the work of addressing social injustices, we must first address those feelings of shame and guilt and the visceral response that we may have to terms such as white privilege and systemic racism.
So, the first step in being a social justice educator is acceptance of the concept of no shame or guilt. Social justice is not about playing a blame game. Representatives of marginalized groups hope to focus the national conversation on the questions of "What is happening?" and "Why is it happening?" However, we become frustrated when that conversation begins to focus upon, in Brown's words, "'What should we fear?" and "Who should we blame?'" (Brown 30). Again, THIS ISN'T A BLAME GAME.
So, we need to go to a place of vulnerability to do this work. That isn't easy. "Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable..." (Brown 37). I'm asking each of you to be vulnerable while accepting that it's okay to feel uncomfortable. Just think of it like this: anything worth having is worth sacrificing a bit for it. In this case, I'm asking you to sacrifice your personal comfort for the sake of the children you serve. To use a trite saying, "no pain, no gain."
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