Note for Black readers and other people of color: I share the story below for my mostly white audience. Feel free to read and contact me with any comments.
A Black student sent me a long email. She had a lot to say.
The first time I read it, I skimmed it because it was “too hot.”
The second time I read it, I missed my bus stop.
I’m embarrassed to tell you that I was defensive. I felt furious. I wanted someone to take my side.
Maybe I should use a different word than “calling out.” Calling someone out, to me, means publicly. This was an email.
Maybe I should use a different word than “calling out,” because she didn’t seek to harm me. She gave me book recommendations.
What this student did was “call me in.”
She was disappointed in me. Felt hurt by me. And she was right. I was treating her differently than other students.
She was reclaiming her dignity by writing me. And she was also brave.
I make decisions about who gets certified through my program. This student was taking a risk by speaking her mind.
I found one of her book suggestions at the library. Even the title pained me: Nice Racism.
Ouch.
I read the book and joined a book group to discuss it. Then I started reading it a second time. Spending time regularly with the issue of racism has grown me. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary for me to feel right with myself.
For my white, readers, I recommend Nice Racism. And then I recommend it a second time.
Blog photo by tabitha turner on Unsplash