Wow!! That is all I can say.. I was sitting in Starbucks the other day studying my lesson and sippin' on a White Chocolate Mocha from Starbucks when it hit me. Here's what happened.
Next to me, was a young Hispanic man and his girlfriend studying. We were peacefully doing our thing until two Mexican males walk in. One of them appeared to be a littler older and the other fairly younger. Mind you, the Hispanic male that was sitting next to me hadn't said anything to me all night and nor had I indulged him in conversation either, all of that changed the moment these two walked in.
The older man said something to the Hispanic male in Spanish and they began to have a conversation. Then the pair walked over and ordered their coffee and while they waited, they joined the young man and began to speak to him in Spanish. Now the young Hispanic Guy sitting next to me, begins to grill the younger one about school and him having all of his credits in English. I thought that was interesting, but anyway, the younger guy responded in Spanish lamenting that his counselor had gotten classes mixed up and that he was working on getting things straight. Oh, the two that entered were wet and dirty looking as if they had been playing soccer in the rain. I continued to pretend to do my work and eavesdrop at the same time.
My interest peaked as the two began to leave. They seemed like they were excited and proud to see the young man at Starbucks with his girl and studying and all that, but the young Hispanic man didn't return the joy. He felt the need to stress education and the importance of keeping up with credits and BLAH BLAH ..BLAH.. Now the dynamic irony in this situation was the role reversal. I saw myself in the role of the young Hispanic Male talking about education to his family. I felt as though that was my duty and responsibility. Let others know that I am an expert on education. In return, the same people I claim to help are supposed to respect me for that knowledge.
In actuality, what I saw that night was upsetting because it disappointed and discredited all that I claim to be. Because on the real, these visitors to the coffee shop were happy to see this guy and he acted as if they were lower than him. He didn't even introduce the girlfriend until the two were about to leave. He just spoke of how to accomplish what he has accomplished. I felt so sorry for the guys, I commented out loud my admiration for the diligence and commitment they made to soccer. I asked had they played in the rain and the older man replied "Yes". He said it as if it did not matter what the weather was he would play soccer. I was just amazed by the tenacity. Anyway, my Hispanic self, retorted "You know Mexicans, they gotta have soccer". Disgruntled I commented, " No, It is not just a Mexican thing, my husband, who is Nigerian, plays rain or shine as well." They all smiled and the wet men walked out of Starbucks.
My intent was to show that it was okay to hold on to those cultural values, the young dud was trying to discredit and be proud of them. I also felt it was necessary to comment, as a redemption to all of the family members that just want to talk to me and the only conversation I have to offer them revolves around schooling and how to be a successful student, like me. BORING!!!
The most ironic thing that happened that night was the reading that night was bell hooks and she spoke of this dual role educated minorities play. She mentioned the they have to constantly balance and sacrifice their cultural selves for their educated selves. This includes family games such as soccer and in my case dominoes, food, language and mannerisms. Sometimes, this sacrifice is not even acknowledged or appreciated in the most liberal settings because the materially privileged still control the conversation.
I realized that night, that I too, may be a cultural hypocrite if I don't acknowledge my family for who they are and allow them the discernment to ask me for information. It is not my role to judge them or to just dump information in them, but to accept them and love them because after all I am them.
Furthermore, that night I also learned this issue is not isolated to Blacks, it is cultural thing.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Get out my row!
Well, in a Black church we have a phrase we use when the preacher is preaching about something that pertains directly to us. We tell him out loud to "Get out of our row!" What this implies is that the pastor is on target with his message and is embarassing us because it seems as though he is talking to us. Typically, the comment is encouraging to all around and it riles him up because his sermon is touching us on a personal level. I had this exact experience when reading bell hooks.
Some time ago, bell hooks wrote an essay entitled "Confronting Class in the Classroom". This essay hit home for me. It was as if she were having a conversation with me about what I was feeling and thinking about. It was as if she was saying, "Ayanna, everything you are feeling is normal." She was conforting me about being estranged in a classroom designed to be inclusive. If she were there with me at that moment I would have given her a high five on several statements she made. I reflected later about it and retorted, "Get out of my row, bell!"
I felt the need to share this in light of the fact that bell and I having similiar life and educational experiences. In her essay, she mentions cases of students, including herself, being silenced during class discussions because their commments would not be accepted , but be judged. Yet, her passion for knowledge forced her to digest the psuedo justice and equity that dangled in front of her and sit in silence and just learn. She and I have learned many lessons and our classroom status from a working and poor family was one of them. The most important lesson was not about the content of the course, but about how to cope and tolerate people's opinions of how they view your standing.
This hunger for epistemology caused her to remain silent and not be calculated, for the class was not about class at all, but class standing in society. Her dialect, comments, mannerisms, and critical approach to discussion would reveal her families economic background. This was not accepted, to talk about classism despite being in the most liberal setting. Even though her setting was often a platform for equity for all humans mainly women, she remained silent, because her contributions to the conversation of her reality would not be accepted. Her contributions rested upon the backs of poor women in her past that beared the double burden of being Black and being a woman.
In many ways, I am bell in our doctoral program. My thoughts and feelings are not welcomed because it isn't the nice or frilly reality many people live with. My life is a reflection of all that went wrong with poor black people, like a news channel, 75% negative and 23% positive and 2% who cares. bell made me accept or at least to ponder about normalized conversation and eccentric comments. because I received confirmatio, that I was not alone, I am able to move on with out despair and dissapointment. I am convinced and calmed from reading her essay that society makes baby steps when it comes to true equity. It not the fault of the class, but a sign of the progress we have made with classim.
I am not dissapointed in my peers because at least they are trying. I am not upset that I can't voice my opinion as openly and as widely as everyone else. I am simply anxious. I am anxious for a moment when we can all openly share without any race or class of people feeling guilty. My favorite quote from her is:
A distinction must be made between shallow emphasis on coming to voice, which wrongly suggests there can be some democratization of voice wherein everyone's words wil be given time and seen as equally valuable....
Some time ago, bell hooks wrote an essay entitled "Confronting Class in the Classroom". This essay hit home for me. It was as if she were having a conversation with me about what I was feeling and thinking about. It was as if she was saying, "Ayanna, everything you are feeling is normal." She was conforting me about being estranged in a classroom designed to be inclusive. If she were there with me at that moment I would have given her a high five on several statements she made. I reflected later about it and retorted, "Get out of my row, bell!"
I felt the need to share this in light of the fact that bell and I having similiar life and educational experiences. In her essay, she mentions cases of students, including herself, being silenced during class discussions because their commments would not be accepted , but be judged. Yet, her passion for knowledge forced her to digest the psuedo justice and equity that dangled in front of her and sit in silence and just learn. She and I have learned many lessons and our classroom status from a working and poor family was one of them. The most important lesson was not about the content of the course, but about how to cope and tolerate people's opinions of how they view your standing.
This hunger for epistemology caused her to remain silent and not be calculated, for the class was not about class at all, but class standing in society. Her dialect, comments, mannerisms, and critical approach to discussion would reveal her families economic background. This was not accepted, to talk about classism despite being in the most liberal setting. Even though her setting was often a platform for equity for all humans mainly women, she remained silent, because her contributions to the conversation of her reality would not be accepted. Her contributions rested upon the backs of poor women in her past that beared the double burden of being Black and being a woman.
In many ways, I am bell in our doctoral program. My thoughts and feelings are not welcomed because it isn't the nice or frilly reality many people live with. My life is a reflection of all that went wrong with poor black people, like a news channel, 75% negative and 23% positive and 2% who cares. bell made me accept or at least to ponder about normalized conversation and eccentric comments. because I received confirmatio, that I was not alone, I am able to move on with out despair and dissapointment. I am convinced and calmed from reading her essay that society makes baby steps when it comes to true equity. It not the fault of the class, but a sign of the progress we have made with classim.
I am not dissapointed in my peers because at least they are trying. I am not upset that I can't voice my opinion as openly and as widely as everyone else. I am simply anxious. I am anxious for a moment when we can all openly share without any race or class of people feeling guilty. My favorite quote from her is:
A distinction must be made between shallow emphasis on coming to voice, which wrongly suggests there can be some democratization of voice wherein everyone's words wil be given time and seen as equally valuable....
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