Black and White

Sneeches

When I was writing To a Little Boy, my original title ~handwritten in my spiral notebook~ was To a Little Black Boy. I debated whether or not to mention his race in that post. Does it matter that the boy is black? He was a sad, tiny boy. He was a sad, tiny, black boy.

Knowing the incarceration rate of black males & the achievement gap of black males in schools did increase my concern for him. So maybe it does matter? But I decided not to mention it because his race is irrelevant to the story I was telling on that day.

In that story, he was representative of me, and of the “little guy” in general. But now, he’s part of this one:

That same afternoon I realized that the only film we watched all year that didn’t have a character in it that could be ~and routinely was, by black and white students alike~ called “the black guy” was “Crooklyn.” ~except for the ones with all white characters~ This is because, of course, all the characters in “Crooklyn” are black.

I’m a white teacher of both black and white students in a state that is steeped in old Southern racism. I never thought of myself as a racist, and in my heart I know I’m not hateful of others because of their skin color, but I never knew until I went to grad school that there’s a difference between racism and bigotry. Peggy McIntosh’s article Unpacking White Privilege was one thing ~of several~ that opened my eyes.

I’m not a bigot, but racism is everywhere. Like the air we breathe.

It bothers me to refer to characters in movies as “the black guy.” I reject the notion that “the black guy” suffices as a description of anyone, much less someone like Courtney Vance or James Earl Jones. ~i mean, hell, this is a film class, and those are dudes you’re going to see again~ But, as a shortcut when discussing a scene in a film with only one black character it seems to work for all the students in the room, and my avoiding saying it seems ~at least to me~ to stick out like a sore thumb.

It also bothered me that the only students who liked “Crooklyn” were black students, and that some white students were very vocal about their distaste. One student said it was “stupid,” which ~according to my film class policy~ obligated him to write an essay critiquing the film, which he posted on his blog. ~the idea is that “stupid” does not constitute substantive analysis. they do not have to like any film, but they have to say why they don’t like it in a reasoned argument~ The blog post was racist. Great. Hardly the substantive analysis I was looking for.

That was several months ago, and I haven’t written about it for the same reason that nobody talks about race in the classroom. Where does this resistance come from?

White guilt?

I have wanted to discuss race on this blog forever, but have hesitated for fear of saying something wrong.

Screw that. Guilt is unproductive. White guilt is a mental trap. As a white teacher, there’s the fear that I’ll say something wrong, reveal my “hidden racism,” hurt someone’s feelings, or stir up some closeted klansman to say something really horrible. As a white blogger, I have the same concerns. So I try to avoid it. ~but have been brave in the classroom several occasions, which i would have written about but, you know…~

But I don’t believe the current white-people-can’t-discuss-racial-issues-with-black-people policy is working.

So I think we should talk about it.

I hope some other concerned folks will talk with me.

About the Author

I'm Taylor. This is my classroom. There used to be a "real" teacher behind this blog, but she nagged me all the time about not saying this and not saying that. ~all she ever did was type anyway, since my fingers are stuck together~ So I've taken over. Yes, I'm an imitation Barbie knock-off doll. What of it? Barbie's got nothing on me! Let me take you to school.