In this blog post I will share two stories and tie them together in the end.

Story #1: Lisa Delpit encourages educators to teach all students the “culture of power,” that is the explicit and implicit rules of power operating in all institutions. In her powerful article, The Silenced Dialogue: Power and Pedagogy in Educating Other People’s Children (1988), she shares anecdotes experienced by people of color who were silenced when issues of race surfaced in educational settings. Rather than continue to argue with white colleagues, who did not understand their perspectives or who were completely distorting the histories, perspectives, and lives of people of color, these intellectual individuals chose to silence themselves.

Many people of color can remember a time when they were silenced. I sure can. Years ago, during a faculty meeting with only head teachers, I was explaining how challenging it was to mentor a white associate teacher who questioned my authority simply because I am a woman of color. A white colleague said, “How do you really know race has anything to do with it?” As one of two teachers of color in the division, and that colleague of color was out that day, I felt completely alone. I knew no amount of explaining was going to help me raise the level of consciousness of this white colleague, or the others in the room, so that I was not questioned about the role race played in my difficult interactions with my associate. I chose to silence myself for fear of getting angry, fear of being misunderstood, fear of being judged for playing the race card, fear of being too sensitive, and fear of being rejected by these colleagues I barely knew. While I didn’t fear losing my job, I have certainly heard too many of my colleagues of color across the country fearing retribution if they spoke their truth.

Story #2: I know a white, straight, cisgendered, able bodied woman in one of our New York independent schools. She recently shared her frustrations about her own moment of being silenced. While it does not have the same significance for her as a member of several privileged groups, as a strong white ally she often faces the challenges of having to decide when to speak out in the face of bias, discrimination, and oppression. While reflecting on whether or not to speak out about a recent situation at her school, she felt that she would or could lose her job over what she wanted to say and do. As she looked around the room of people of color she was sharing this story with she realized that it is her role to say and do something, and her risk to take in possibly loosing her job, if she is to live the life of the strong white ally she (and others) believe her to be. In that moment, what I most appreciated about her is that she was not sharing this story so that she could be praised and congratulated by the people of color in the room. She knows people of color take these risks or silence themselves all the time.

Here is the connection between these two stories. I spent the past two days wondering if I should say something about the boot comments shared during opening ceremonies. I have to admit that I did not hear the statement myself because I left before the ceremony ended in order to prepare for my workshop on racial microaggressions. Ironic, I know. However, participants came in wanting to process the situation, friends approached me throughout the day on Thursday and Friday to share their feelings about the comment and the apology. They wondered if I was going to say something and I labored over if, how, and when I should. I feared what the retribution would be if I did, and in the end chose public silence, while my white blogger colleague took the risk.

He doesn’t need a thank you and I think he knows this. He also knows it is expected of him. I do want to publicly thank Rhonda Durham for immediately commenting to Chris’s blog.

To those people of color who, like me, have chosen silence at times in their lives, you are not alone. Muchas Gracias to all of the people of color in independent schools who have taken the necessary risks to address all forms of oppression.

I am off to my student/adult affinity work and looking forward to the work of the almost 1500 risk takers we call youth!

¡No pare, sique, sigue!