“As a student, my teacher once unknowingly used a racist example in class and became quite angry and defensive when I pointed it out to her in front of everyone. Although I had rehearsed my response many many times, it was difficult to challenge her in front of the class, albeit in what I thought was in a respectful way; I was revisiting something that she had said in a previous class. Although she was angry, she did listen to my explanation and in the end, agreed that the example she had used was racist. At this point, she admitted to her mistake and decided that we would spend some time talking about racism, right then and there. As a white student at the beginning of my process of understanding racism and my own whiteness, I thought that it was great that she was open to my critique. At the time, this felt like a win/win.
It turns out that I wasn’t prepared and neither was she (who was also white) and yet, here we were diving into the conversation. Within the first few minutes, the class erupted: angry voices, tears, and general lack of control. And in the midst of all of this, the lone student of colour (my friend) was the brunt of the white anger. The discussion was shut down by our teacher who was not equipped to deal with the conflict or the emotions that it had brought up. My friend, the student of colour, told me to back off and made it very clear that I had started something that I was unprepared to deal with; she felt very hurt, embarrassed, and isolated/singled-out by the whole incident.
Looking back, this situation could have been a learning opportunity had we had the correct tools to unpack what was going on and the emotions that it brought up. But neither my teacher nor myself had the appropriate awareness or knowledge to facilitate the discussion. We did not have an adequate understanding of how “race” and racism affect the lived experiences of us all, and particularly, the different impact on racialized people. This story shows how harmful it can be for racialized people to enter into discussions about racism with those who do not have the depth of understanding to do so. We unfortunately did not have a clear/full understanding of the situation, how to deal with it, or how to get help dealing with it. Instead, the subject was never revisited in our class and my classmate was hurt by the entire experience.”
“Before I initiate a conversation about race or racism, I usually catch myself contemplating how it might go. These conversations happen in my family, my community and my workplace. Here is an example: I am teaching a class online and the race/racism conversations or the beginnings of them have already come up. We, the students and I, are at the edge of the conversation that will take them and me on a journey. I have noted the openings and am thinking about how and when are the best times/ways to move forward (this is an online course which is quite different from being in the room with the students). Interestingly, before I begin the “racism conversation,” I find myself reflecting on it and often making assumptions about how it might unfold, as often, there is a pattern to how the conversation and resulting change takes place.
Having said that, there is the bumpy road between now and the change and I find myself once again, thinking about how I am going to attempt to create ways for the students and myself to move through the process and come out the other side. The beginning part of this process can be, on the one hand, exciting, and on the other hand, daunting. The exciting bit is about being part of the students’ process of making sense of their world, of having students come to a point where something “clicks” and makes sense in a way that it hasn’t before. The “light bulb” moment that changes the way that they perceive the world around them. The daunting bit is dealing with difficult and uncomfortable conversations, the anger, both mine and the students,’ and the resistance that plays out in many ways. The daunting bits, as I have labelled them, cause me stress.”
“My teaching partner and I experience this moment often, and it is connected to the liberal strategy of not believing that a person of colour is Canadian, often via the outwardly “innocent” question “Where are you from?” Students, both white and some students of colour, will argue that asking a racialized person where they are from is just a way to get to know them better and that they are not intending to imply that the person is not Canadian. Even when I explain that I am white and never get asked this question because people who look like me are viewed as “normal Canadians,” and even when other students of colour explain how this question makes them feel excluded or like they are not “real” Canadians, the argument continues.
As we continue to move through this conversation, some students begin to understand this hurtful microaggression while others remain fixed in their views. The conflicting notions can cause stress for facilitators and for students. One way to cope with these emotions during facilitation is to ask students to sit with the ideas/tension and to have them reflect on why they think it is difficult to believe what the facilitators and some of their classmates are saying. We are asking students to understand their own emotional responses through our conversations and our debriefings while at the same time, not taking on their stress. Coping with stressful discussions might mean maintaining them nonetheless or other times, like when we ask the students to sit with their stress, we are providing “breathing spaces” and processing time. As part of processing time, we might ask students to journal about their emotions and the larger issues connected to them. It is important to suggest to students that you will revisit the discussion with them if necessary.”
↳ See Examples of Microaggressions
“In 2009, we were facilitating a school wide poster contest at a Junior High as part of our “Students For Change” program. I was visiting classrooms to talk to students about the contest. We were asking students to make posters that depicted their cultures and were encouraging them to talk about some deep culture issues. I was sharing examples of deep culture, what research they might do, and how they might share their ideas in a way that might deepen understanding in the school generally about their specific family/racial/cultural background—a rather large expectation for Jr. High students, as I reflect back. One of the white students put up her hand and asked “What if you don’t have a culture?” One of the students of colour put up her hand and asked, “What if you don’t want to talk about your culture?” These two very simply-put yet extremely complex questions illustrate one of the many limitations of the multicultural approach; without examining this situation from an anti-racism perspective, these questions might have appeared as nothing more than 2 students questioning an assignment.
When I asked the student of colour to explain to me why she didn’t want to talk about her culture, she replied that she “just didn’t want to.” In a multicultural classroom where there is no discussion of race and racism, the student of colour might have appeared obstinate; she seemed to be saying that she just didn’t feel like doing the assignment for no reason at all. However, from anti-racism perspective, we can better understand what she was likely feeling. It may have felt unsafe for her to explain herself and what she was feeling to me (a white instructor who was facilitating the discussion). She might also have felt that in saying something, she would isolate herself in the classroom. Another possibility is that she was not able to put what she was feeling into words. When I asked the white student why she didn’t think that she had a culture, she stated that she and her parents were from here (Calgary); she seemed to feel as though this answered my question sufficiently.
In the case of the racialized student, she may have felt that her identity was almost always tied to her race and culture—she stood out and was judged based on her culture and on how she represented that race/culture. In a Jr. High where students want to “fit in,” is it any wonder that she might not want to be identified yet again by her culture? The white student was allowed to be invisible because of her race. Whiteness does not get questioned: she got to be/feel “normal” while the other student was “different.” Although the atmosphere in the room was a bit tense after this interaction, once they realized that their responses were valid and “normal” we moved into a deeper discussion. Students wanted to keep the discussion going and had questions, concerns, answers and ideas. We began a conversation about race, racism, colour and difference. We moved below surface culture and addressed some deeper issues and as a result, were able to help students make more sense of their lived experience.”
“In 2010, my white, blonde-haired daughter was in Grade 7. She brought home a worksheet from her Social Studies class. Her task was to imagine that she was a homesteader in southern Alberta (late 1800s, I think), deciding which parcel of land to live on based on factors such as the location of rivers and lakes, roads, railway lines, and towns. Setting aside for the moment the issue of whether or not white women had any role in this decision making process (and assuming she was being asked to imagine herself as a white man), I proposed that she write down the following: “I wouldn’t choose any of these because this is Blackfoot territory and it belongs to them.” My daughter looked at me, clearly vexed. I know from many previous conversations that we’ve had at home that she understands, and is troubled by, the history of the colonization of Indigenous peoples and ongoing injustices. What she said, though, was: “I don’t think my teacher would like that.” I was angry and saddened.
Clearly, her teacher (also white) had forestalled any productive discussion of Indigenous/non-Indigenous relationships in Canada and in Alberta, where we live, and where Blackfoot people still live! I have no doubt that her signals to the class about what was considered appropriate or inappropriate to raise was due to her fear in taking this on and her own lack of knowledge. And this teacher is not alone in this. And yet, I also suspect that she would confidently describe herself as a practitioner of “inclusive education.” For me, this brief incident in my daughter’s long process of “education” speaks volumes about how “additions” to the curriculum, such as the “new” curriculum including First Nations and Métis history in Alberta, will continue to function as “add-ons” to the dominant story of white dominance (and in the guise of Inclusive Education) if teachers are not taught how to identify, name, and truly challenge racism in our own lives, in the curriculum, in their classrooms, and in the system in which we work.”
“I am white, middle-class, and able-bodied. I would like to think that I’m a good dancer, even though my family and close friends have yet to agree with me. Though this has not happened, if a racialized person were to say in a public setting (or even to me alone) that “white people can’t dance” and therefore I can’t possibly be a good dancer, my feelings would be hurt. This statement is an example of racial prejudice because it makes an assumption about an entire group of people based on an assumption about skin colour/race—but it is not racism. The articulation of this statement in no way affects my life in any material way. I can continue to dance unhindered, because there is no power behind this statement to change my real opportunities to dance. I can sign up for/pay for dance classes; I won’t be questioned about my ability to pay, and I would bet the classes would be filled predominantly by people like me (white, female, middle-class, able-bodied). The assertion that “white people can’t dance” circulates as a joke but does not hold any kind of systemic power to oppress white people and stop them from dancing. After all, how long have European/North American ballet companies been dominated by white people and white dancers, and why? Who tells who they can’t dance and in ways that literally ban them from doing so?”
“I am a white woman and often work with my teaching partner, who describes herself as a woman of colour. The issue of differentiating between racial discrimination and racism comes up in our sessions, often from a white person claiming that they have experienced racism or a person of colour saying that they know lots of people of colour who are racist. When such claims arise, my teaching partner or I will present the following scenarios:
Scenario #1. My partner (the woman of colour) is the office manager and I am going in for an interview. If she decides that she is not going to hire me based on my colour difference from the other employees, who are mostly people of colour, she is discriminating against me based on my race and this is racial discrimination.
Scenario #2. I am the office manager (white person) and my partner is interviewing for the job. If I decide not to hire her based on the fact that most of our employees are white and it just doesn’t seem like she, as a person of colour, would fit in, this is racism.
Why is it racial discrimination when the person of colour discriminates against the white person and racism when the white person discriminates against the person of colour? In Canada, white people have cultural power and cultural power is what changes discrimination into an “ism.” In Scenario #1, even though my partner is the position of power as the manger, and I do not have power, I regain my cultural power once I leave the office—I once again benefit from being white. For my teaching partner, when she leaves my office in Scenario #2, as a woman of colour, she does not have cultural power and is once again, at a disadvantage.”
2500 University Drive NW
Calgary, AB T2N 1N4
(403) 220-2505
aclrc@ucalgary.ca