A few days ago I read this opinion piece:
Author, Desmond Cole, writing in the wake of the mayoral election in Toronto, points out: “It is crucial that we distinguish these things – white privilege and racism – and that we learn to talk better about each. ..So let us start here: white privilege is real, and it affects every single Torontian.”
He goes on to explain:
“white privilege is the flipside of racism: if those of us deemed to be “visible minorities” suffer discrimination, white privilege speaks to the corresponding people who, whether or not they realize it, gain advantage from this dynamic. Systemic racism does not just have countless victims, but beneficiaries as well…
White privilege isn’t about what is in the hearts and minds of individuals; it is a set of circumstances in the world, with which we all must contend – but which white people can ignore with impunity while the victims of racism cannot.”
He concludes with the argument that because inequities will not simply fade away, it behooves us as individuals and as a society to take actions which redress them. ” Racism is the bully who shows up at the party without being invited: almost no one wants to associate with him, but few have the courage to show him the door. Those of us affected by systemic racism don’t have the luxury of ignoring that bully.”
Read the full article to take in the weight of his nuanced analysis.
A little later I ran across this post in pursuit of a different interest:
Here the author, Kevin Hodgson (@dogtrax), is referring to the challenge of creating connected courses under the banner of access, equity and diversity. Essentially he and his colleagues are doing their part to insure due diligence in developing programs which actually reach and impact underserved urban and rural communities. The Western Massachusetts Writing Project is the organization in question and the following quote comes from their vision statement adopted some years ago:
Central to our mission is the development of programs and opportunities that are accessible and relevant to teachers, students, and their families from diverse backgrounds, paying attention to issues of race, gender, language, class and culture and how these are linked to teaching and learning.
The author acknowledges costs in the process of taking this stance which is more clearly grounded in social justice: the loss of some issue-weary members who worry that the primary aim of helping students and teachers with writing has been pushed to the back burner. The author points to the steps they are taking to keep access, equity and diversity near the top of the agenda – an upcoming symposium, past gains in mobilizing membership around advocacy against teacher evaluation based solely on standardized test results. Nevertheless, the tension remains: “when many discussions come filtered through the social justice lens, it can feel as if the “writing” and “teaching” elements get lost in the shuffle, replaced by a political action lens.”
I hear his struggle and applaud his and his organization’s efforts to work against or perhaps through the tide. It certainly isn’t easy. This is where these two pieces come together for me. The privilege lies in being able to choose to address, redress or ignore the uncomfortable topics of equity and access. Sticking around to put up a fight time and time again on behalf of those who are excluded from this privilege may strike some as tedious, as a lost cause. For those who belong to marginalized groups, there simply is no choice.
Let’s recognize that there is good work being done and that there is much more to do. It is upon all of us to do the work we are able to do wherever we find ourselves – in our families, schools and communities – breaking down barriers, acknowledging privilege here, dismantling the structures of systemic and institutional bias there. We all can afford to get better at connecting the necessary dots.