White Privilege Is Not in the Bible...or...Why White Christians Need to Pay Attention to Sociology

A few weeks ago, blogger and fellow Southsider, Kenneth Pruitt asked me to answer the question: What form of privilege do you personally feel is most urgent for the church to wrestle with in order to be the community Christ calls it to be? 

This was a great moment for me to stop and synthesize what I have been thinking and writing about for about a year now. I wrote:


"White Christians need to develop a “sociological imagination. 

Sociologists are able to see the world in ways that are supremely helpful to understanding our experience.  Along with anthropologists, they are the ones who describe how “race” is not a biological or cultural reality, but is social constructed.  Going all the way back to W.E.B. Dubois, they are the people who talk about a system of “White privilege,” which is the other side of institutionalized racism.  

White Christians mostly don’t know about these concepts, because to be brutally honest, White churches were helping to maintain Jim Crow laws and racial segregation on Sunday morning and every other day of the week for much of this time.  We absolutely have to listen to what sociologists, anthropologists, psychologists are saying about "race," racial identity, privilege and oppression, because we as White Christians have not been developing a capacity to think about these topics.  If we can listen with discernment, we will begin to understand why it is so critical to be aware of the society in which we live." 

The rest of the post can be found on Kenneth's blog, which I recommend checking out at http://voicilesmotsjustes.blogspot.com/. 

I am still hoping for some dialogue around this topic, so maybe I can give another go at engaging people.  

1)  What form of privilege do you think we most need to engage in the church?

2)  Are the sociological concepts of "privilege" and "oppression" useful for Christians?  If not, are there similar themes in the Bible that might help Christians theorize about "race" and racial inequality?   

3) Other thoughts, opinions, or critiques?  

Urban Education: The messages, myths, and realities

“[Urban schools] tend to be places governed by an overarching sense of futility and pessimism; where colleagues may distrust their supervisors and perhaps one another; where there can be a certain harshness in the way children and parents are dealt with; where many children seem to be disengage much of the time, but not necessarily more so than the teachers; where the levels of human capital are at their lowest; where instruction is uncoordinated and uninspiring; where there are too few resources, and those few are often badly use; where the curriculum is narrow, boring, and frequently changing; where teachers have profound skepticism about “program”; where there is a general feeling of instability—personnel come and go, students come and go, programs come and go—all of it presided over by a dysfunctional bureaucracy” (Payne, 2008, p. 23).

  

This quote comes from Charles Payne's (2008) book So much reform, so little change: The persistence of failure in urban schools.  In no way is he blaming any one particular player in this scenario, least of all the students or their families, but his analysis is supremely useful in that it presents the complicated and complex situation that is "the urban school."  

This past semester, as I went through a course called "Foundations of Urban Education," I was  struggling to put my finger on the solution for urban education.  This is not only slightly naïve, given that I have never taught in a public school, but it also reveals that I have bought into the prevalent ideology that there is a panacea for our educational system.   

I held off posting anything from the course on my blog because I wanted to be able to offer the answer.  But I’m starting to see that’s precisely the point—there is no one-size-fits-all solution.  And typically, any attempt at the next big solution creates more issues than it resolved. As a society, we have a long way to go before we have sufficiently delved into understanding the problems before we start passing more legislation.  

If the problems are complex, then the answers cannot be simplistic. 

This kind of post is fraught with other potential pitfalls. This “problem” of urban education, or education in “at risk” schools, is weighty and controversial at the same time. Works like Payne's help to deconstruct some of the biased messages that are promoted by the media and politicians regarding students in urban schools.  As we examine the factors that maintain socioeconomic and racial inequalities, it should become more difficult to “blame the victim” or oversimplify the issues. 

However, Payne paints a fairly grim picture of urban education.  And as he does, I can’t help thinking about some of my friends who teach in various schools around the metropolitan area who talk about the very kinds of problems that he discusses.  In any case, it seems that I cannot completely discredit what he says.  And therein I see at least one very sticky problem—how can I write about some of the realities in some urban schools, without perpetuating stereotypes? 

For example, I hear people complain about St. Louis Public School District, asking, "Where does all that money go?" implying that "those people" are just wasting time and money, that "they" are incompetent or corrupt.  I now see, however, there could be layers of bureaucracy, accompanied by flagging morale among faculty and staff, which leads to institutional failure.  In this kind of environment, people with strong personalities can take over and contribute to a culture of fear and mistrust. In this downward spin, efficient management goes out the window and the people inside just focus on day-to-day survival. In addition (and this is not frequently cited by the media) schools that serve communities living in poverty need more money than schools in affluent areas to begin with. 

So, again, the situation is far more complicated that anyone knows.

I am convinced that there is some hope in the idea of creating authentic community in schools as a way of breaking the cycle of social reproduction and truly caring for the needs of others.  I also believe that the more we find out what the real problems are--not the problems we think exist or the problems that the media emphasizes--the more we will be able to come up with real, grass-roots solutions.

Reference

Payne, C. M. (2008). So much reform, so little change: The persistence of failure in urban schools. Harvard Education Press. 

What are some of the messages you have heard about urban schools?  Are these messages based in reality?  How do you know? 

"Race" as a social construction

"Race: The Power of an Illusion" is a PBS series and website that tackles the tough questions about "race."  This resource has helped me tremendously in clarifying my discussions and writing. Understanding the concept of a "social construction" takes time.  Realizing that "race" is not genetically or culturally-based is sometimes a new idea for many folks.  I can't explain it better than these folks have, so here is this resource again.  Enjoy!

References

Herbes-Sommers, C., Strain, T. H., & Smith, L. (2003). Race: The power of an illusion [Television Series]. San Francisco, CA: California Newsreel & Independent Television Service.

Race: The Power of an Illusion Website. (2003). PBS. Retrieved August 14, 2012, from http://www.pbs.org/race/

"Culture of povery" and achievement ideology

"The problem is not that lower-class children are inferior in some way; the problem is that by the definitions and standards of the school, they consistently are evaluated as deficient" (MacLeod, 2008, p. 101)

Jay MacLeod  (2008) so brilliantly lands on this conclusion more than 30 years ago in his epic ethnography "Ain't no makin' it: Aspirations and attainment in a low-income neighborhood." MacLeod followed two groups of boys for a year, the "Hallway Hangers" (White teenage boys) and the "Brothers" (Black teenage boys).  He was then able to catch up with this same group of men 8 years later, then 20 years later, offering a rare longitudinal qualitative study in the realm of education and sociology. 

MacLeod offers a counter-narrative to the overly simplistic rationale of a "culture of poverty" by analyzing the underlying logic of the two groups of boys. From their perspective, it seems that there are only two options for the youth in this impoverished East Coast neighborhood: resist the achievement ideology put forth by the educational institution and fail quickly, or accept the achievement ideology and fail slowly.   

For the Hallway Hangers, "the possibility of upward social mobility is not worth the price of obedience, conformity, and investment of substantial amounts of time, energy, and work in school" (MacLeod, p. 106).  A loss of agency and self-esteem are at stake for these boys, as well.  The Brothers, on the other hand, seem to have internalized their own oppression, what MacLeod calls "anticipatory socialization." Regardless, with one exception, at 20 years later neither the men who had "tried hard" nor the men who had "given up" had managed to escape their social class.

Simply put achievement ideology that says if you work hard, you will succeed.  There are many stories of social mobility, but people generally achieve relatively modest gains or losses in the grand scheme of the whole social order.  The true "rags to riches" story rarely happens. MacLeod's narrative contributes further to the idea that divisions between racial groups only serve to solidify the position of all the lower class at the bottom of the economic hierarchy. 

MacLeod's work does not downplay the devastating effects of poverty on families, individuals and entire communities.  If anything, he gives a compelling and realistic picture of poverty. However, the picture he paints is far from simplistic; the interaction between structures and human agency is complex and profound. 

 Overall, he argues against the idea that young people in poverty fail to achieve because of their inherited "culture," and instead contends that the structures and ideology upholding a rigid class-system in this country are the very same forces that inhibit social mobility. 

This work also forces me to remember that social construction of "race" through laws and institutions was always about the preservation of the upper class.  While "race" has become the most salient aspect of our identity, class is surely only a few steps behind.  Regardless of a person's racial identity, we are more or less bound to the class into which we were born, although "race" certainly impacts the "more or less."  

It seems that the larger community of educators was not truly listening to the theoretical framework and powerful stories put forth by MacLeod because we are still having conversations surrounding the "culture of poverty" and its impact on educational achievement.  The role of the educational system should not be underestimated in how it promotes social reproduction by privileging one set of cultural values and linguistic codes, while disadvantaging others. 

"Whereas force and coercion often have ensured the cohesion of societies and the maintenance of oppressive relationships, ideology is more important in fulfilling this function in contemporary America" (MacLeod, 2009, p. 113). 

So it seems there are layers upon layers that reify the hierarchy that keeps the rich getting richer and the poor, poorer. 

References

MacLeod, J. (2008). Ain’t no makin’ It: Aspirations and attainment in a low-income neighborhood (3rd ed.). Westview Press.

White flight and school choice

“These data counter choice advocates’ claims that school choice policies will give less-affluent parents access to the same good schools that privileged parents with resources currently seek out for their children, as the most coveted schools are, from the most privileged parents’ perspective, those schools without low-income students or students of color” (Holme, 2002, p. 203).  

The decision where to send one’s children to school—whether to home-school, to enter a lottery for a charter or magnet school, to seek out a scholarship to a private school, or to choose the neighborhood school—is an intensely personal choice.  Perhaps there is nothing closer to a parent’s heart than the welfare and success of their children.  However, I have begun to come to a slow and grinding halt in my way of thinking about where I want my White children to go to school.  

I live in the city of St. Louis, which means that I have all of the choices I listed above.  My husband and I seriously considered homeschooling first, since that was what his mom did, as well as many of the people in our White community.  After we decided that we probably would go crazy staying home full-time, we started looking at charter and magnet schools.  Somewhere in the middle of reading about the social construction of “race” and racial inequality in education, I had an epiphany.  I realized that, in my mind, my child was more valuable than other children.  For example, I believed that while it was okay for other children to attend neighborhood schools, it was not right for my child.  After all, my child is “gifted,” above average, special.    

In Holme’s (2002) study, most of the White participants relied on the opinions and suggestions of high-status, White friends and families to help decide where to move in order to have access to the best schools.  Although it was framed in terms of wanting the best for the children, the parents’ discourse also revealed their underlying beliefs about the superiority of high-status families and children.  In essence, Holme discovered that parents valued schools based on where other high-status parents were sending their kids, not based on substantial factual information.  The perception of these schools was first socially constructed, then as Holme concludes, “the facts that the parents did obtain, which consisted primarily of test scores, confirmed what they had heard about particular schools through their social networks—that schools serving Whiter, wealthier students were, in fact, better” (p. 201).  

It seems like this would be a natural response for any parent.  In fact, this kind of thinking is all I had been exposed to in my White network of friends and family.  A common conversation starter among White people in the city might be, “Oh, you live here? So where are you going to try to send your kids to school?”  The expected answer is never “a neighborhood school.” 

The results of this kind of conversation are very real.  In the St. Louis Public School District (SLPS), only 13% of students are white; 80% of the students are Black.  Even further, most of those White students are in magnet schools, schools that were opened with the purpose of drawing White students into the city.  This leaves neighborhood schools with upwards of 90% Black students, racial segregation almost on par with the Jim Crow era.  This is "White flight" without even having to leave the neighborhood.

The situation is further compounded when one considers the free/reduced lunch (FTE) percentage, a common way to determine poverty levels.  Over 80% of children in SLPS qualify for free/reduced lunch.  Just as a reference, to qualify for free lunch, a family of four has to earn less than $30,000 per year.  Currently, my family would qualify for reduced lunch, but most of my friends and family are safely within the range of middle class.  This means that when we have hard times, we have resources in terms of money, food, transportation, and childcare.  Our family and friends are priceless, but their support has very real monetary value.  

In fact, social networking is a way that many schools make ends meet, as well.  Charter schools are not the only ones who survive on fundraisers, as Jonathan Kozol (2005) discusses in his writings on inequalities in education.  Districts which already boast high property taxes to support the local schools also have constituents who are able to raise large amounts of money, set up non-profits and charities, volunteer at the school, do pro bono work, or donate new or used materials, such as computers or photography equipment. All of this money contributes to schools with more resources, which then theoretically should help children to learn, thereby improving test scores.  Again, this money is over and above what the school district already pays per student.  Kozol (2005) reported huge disparities between wealthy school districts and segregated urban districts in terms of per-student funding.

It isn’t natural to have racially segregated schools, but it is the byproduct of a long history of systemic, institutionalized racism.  All parents want what is best for their children, and all children are equally deserving of a well-funded school with good teachers. Additionally, Kozol (2005) points out that we don’t even call our current state “segregation,” but instead use words like “diverse” or “urban” to talk about schools populated by children of color. 

The idea that Whiteness is privileged does not mean that White people are more important or more deserving, but it does mean that Whiteness carries with it prestige and power.  When all the White people or more generally, all middle-class people leave a school district, the children left in those schools are left without powerful advocates and a network for obtaining resources.  

How do I disrupt the patterns of racial segregation, use my privilege to advantage others, but without coming in like a “White hero”? These thoughts are still formulating in my mind, but these articles are so appropriate for the decisions I need to make in the near future.  Bottom line—I want to find a way to pursue education for my children in a way that does not socially reproduce racial segregation. 

References 

• Holme, J. (2002). Buying homes, buying schools: School choice and the social construction of school quality. HARVARD EDUCATIONAL REVIEW, 72(2), 177–205.
• Kozol, J. (2006). The Shame of the Nation: The Restoration of Apartheid Schooling in America (Reprint.). Broadway. 

What are your thoughts on school and neighborhood choice?  How do your choices impact your neighborhood? 

Autobiography Pt. 6: Education

I recently have been asked by a few people about how I became interested in antiracism.  In helping myself move forward, I realize that I need to look back.  Also, I hope to convey the sense that I too am on a journey; I am a work in progress.  This is part of my story.

One day at the end of my first year as a graduate assistant, I found myself herding a group of Black four year-olds across the campus of a local university.  Preschool was one of those things on my “never going to…” list, yet here I was, talking about shapes and handing out juice cups and cookies.  It was one of the more adventurous tasks I had done so far in my volunteer work as a graduate student.  Since this local university partners with an urban elementary school, our team was responsible to host the annual “College for a Day” field trip for the Pre-K and Kindergarten classes.

The main emphasis of the field trip, as written in the objectives, seemed to revolve around identification of shapes.  I had sorted shapes for the shape scavenger hunt, compiled a shapes book with a song to the tune of “Farmer in the Dell,” and grouped the students by class with corresponding color-coded shape name tags.  However, as evidenced by the title, the overarching goal of the field trip was to familiarize children and their parents to the university.  This was not included in the written objectives, however.  I only became aware of the connection between the title of the field trip and the location of the scavenger hunt when the team leader commented as much.  

As I drove to university that morning, I had been thinking about the elementary school.  I had heard about the partnership all year, but I only visited the elementary school at the end of the year when I was asked to help with a parent night.  They needed another pair of hands to scoop ice cream for the banana splits given out at the end of a night of literacy activities.  I showed up with my team T-shirt and an ice scream scoop I had been instructed to bring.  As I walked in the door, I found my way to the cafeteria, where the university students were congregating.  Most of my night was spent splitting bananas, so I really didn’t have time to think about the parent night until the parents and the students made their way back to the cafeteria.  

All the university students also gathered around the ice cream to help with distribution.  It was at this moment that the whole scene hit me in Black and White:  all the people standing in line were Black, and all the people behind the counter handing out melting ice and browning bananas were White.  I suddenly had a feeling similar to when I had participated in mission trips to Mexico, except then we were a bunch of White people handing out plates of rice and beans with a donut on top to a large crowd of Brown people. I looked around at the other university students and wondered if they noticed what I did, but the ice cream was melting fast so I couldn’t ponder for long.  

The morning of the field trip as I waited in my car, I wondered how White education students were prepared to work in an all-Black school. Did they find it shocking that there was an all-Black school, as I did?  I knew I had only seen a few Black university students on campus, so I was pretty sure most of the students were White and from all-White schools and communities. Did they think about the fact that their schools had been all-White?  I knew that I hadn’t.  In fact, I would later find out that schools in our nation are almost as segregated now as they were in the "Jim Crow" era (Kozol, 2006).

Later in the day, as I helped guide the preschoolers and their parents across the university’s campus in search of shapes, I was keenly aware of “race” as we passed students, faculty and staff.  I started counting Black people that I saw, feeling almost embarrassed in front of the Black parents and children at the lack of people of color in the crowds.  The parents asked questions about the different buildings on campus, obviously more interested in the “College for a Day” emphasis than finding elusive shapes in the architecture.  The volunteer student who was acting as the group leader was indefatigable, however, keeping the group at a clipping pace in search of shapes.

Eventually, the group passively instituted a scenic break, which was facilitated by three Marines, two White and one Black, who were set up with a booth and a sit-up bar stationed in the center of campus.  The Marines were meant to recruit college students, but the Black Marine started chatting with the parents, as the White Marines stood back awkwardly. One parent attempted a few sit ups, and then the children wanted to try.  The Black Marine patiently hoisted four year-olds one by one up to the sit-up bar for the next twenty minutes, while the White Marines handed out the water bottles.  I wondered at myself internally at being so focused on “race” suddenly.

We made our way back to regroup as a team, where I finally relaxed from a long morning.  As we debriefed, we found out that one of the parents was mad because we hadn’t talked about going to college with the children.  One team member suggested that it wasn’t really age appropriate anyway. Now, I have a limited understanding of early childhood development and I don’t like to look foolish.  However, I thought about my own small child and what I might say to him about college.  I ventured, “I don’t know… could you say something about the ‘big kids’ school or something?  Like, ‘This is college and one day you can go here’?” Another person responded, “The children already know that!  The parents just don’t understand what we’re doing in our partnership with this school.”

I fell silent, feeling out of my league.  I didn’t have experience teaching kids.  I had always said I didn’t want to teach kids.  Something about being a parent of a toddler gave me new confidence, though.  I was pretty sure someone could tell the children about attending a university one day in an age appropriate way.  Also, I sensed that the parent had a legitimate complaint.  I walked myself through the field trip again, remembering how most of the Black faces I had seen on campus had been maintenance workers.  Intuitively, I understood that if I were Black I would not receive an implicit message that “one day you can go to college here.”  If the children received any implicit message that day it was, “This is where the White people go to college, but maybe someday you can be a janitor or a cafeteria worker here.”  

I decided to try again, “I wonder if the parent would have liked to hear that message, that ‘one day you can go here.’ Otherwise, do the kids realize they could go here someday?”  Another team member responded, “Well, I do wonder if it isn’t a little bit cruel to have them here.  I mean, most of them won’t end up here.  And if they do, they will probably be athletes.”  

Again, I had no response, although I felt there was definitely some stereotyping going on.  Was it cruel to bring the families?  I thought about the parents I had met that day.  They seemed pleased to be on campus.  They spoke of how happy they were that their children were at this elementary school, and how happy they were with the teacher this year.   From what I could tell, they had high aspirations for their children’s education.  It is not a stretch to say that they may have perceived the field trip to be the equivalent of a campus tour put on by the university's recruitment office.  What had been communicated to them, I wondered?  Which goals and objectives had they heard?  Did the shape scavenger hunt seem patronizing, while the university students failed to include information about the campus and the university?  There did not seem to be satisfactory answers, but I suddenly knew my research focus had to change.  I had to answer these questions.  

Autobiography Pt. 7: Anti-racism

References

• Kozol, J. (2006). The Shame of the Nation: The Restoration of Apartheid Schooling in America (Reprint.). Broadway.