Beyond Ignorance: Teaching White Privilege

I work for a college-access program designed for first-generation, low-income students of color. In a class of seventeen freshmen, one student is white. She’s incredibly willing to learn about race and diversity and, even as a high school freshman, already knows terms like privilege. She wants to be educated and do anti-racist work.

I work with this student twice a week through one-on-one sessions. We’re reading Bad Feminist, by Roxane Gay (a collection of essays I recommend to anyone and everyone for Gay’s humor, vulnerability and realness when discussing modern day feminism). Multiple times, this student has expressed the opinion, “I’m really ignorant” when speaking about race, especially in regard to her uncomfortability when confronted with the notion that there’s a whole world of racial injustice she hasn’t seen and will never experience directly.

Though I’ve written before about how whiteness and Jewishness feel like two conflicting parts of my identity, when working with this student (and really all of my students) I am a white instructor. Especially when working with this particular student, I have been in her situation and still am in the situation of trying each day to unlearn racism. I too have stumbled over or whispered words like “black” or “African-American”, as if these descriptors have a negative connotation and I’m uttering an insult. This is racist of me and it’s a process to unlearn these patterns of speech and behavior.

But I don’t want this student to leave our sessions believing that she’s ignorant and that’s all she can do is admit to her ignorance because she’s white. I’m trying to move the conversation to a place where she has action steps and can recognize when that ignorance might actually be guilt or another uncomfortable emotion we haven’t yet named.

I sent her an article from Everyday Feminism: “‘I didn’t Know That was Racist’- Are You Using ‘White Ignorance’ to Dodge Responsibility?” and the accompanying video. I’m thinking of continuing the conversation by speaking about white privilege as a way of framing why she’s ignorant. I’m searching for advice and suggestions to have a more specific plan.

Does anyone have any resources or suggestions on how to have a conversation with this student that moves beyond white ignorance?

Advertisements

Books By Women: Bad Feminist

Read Bad Feminist. Plain and simple, no strings attached I can safely recommend Bad Feminist to anyone. Roxanne Gay frames her collection of essays as a critique of the concept that there is one singular way to be a feminist and how she doesn’t want to be a feminist icon and put on a pedestal. She knows she can’t be perfect and doesn’t want to be the “popular media feminist flavor of this week” as she explains it. She is human. She is flawed. She (gasp!) shaves her legs.

And she’s a feminist. A self proclaimed bad feminist.

bad-feminist-820x500

One of the reasons this collection works so well is because it takes the fear out of feminism without removing the title of feminist or proclaiming an ideology. Roxane Gay is a cultural critic first and foremost. These essays are accessible conversations about why we need more representations of women (especially women of color) in movies and books. You do not need to know feminist theory to understand her ideas and as Gay explains in her introduction, she’s not as well read on feminist texts as she should be. There’s no pressure. You come as you are and take what you take, whether you agree with her critiques of sexual mores, race, and women in literature, you can see how she arrives at her ideas.

And for readers who have read all the feminist theory, Roxane Gay’s book is a great way to introduce yourself to the writings of a feminist of color. Gay doesn’t dumb down feminism or subtract from the need for feminism because her writing is accessible. The accessibility makes her work all the more poignant that, like Bell Hooks wrote: Feminism is for Everybody.

rsz_feminism_is_for_everybody_bell_hooks

The best moments in the essays are when Gay speaks about her personal experience, growing up as the child of immigrants, working through sex and sexuality, and navigating her own privilege. Essays like “I Once Was Miss America” capture nostalgia for childhood literary favorites (even when these tastes are embarassingly awful), while analyzing race and the incessant need in literature for flawless Mary Sue women. You finish the book feeling like you know Roxane Gay and have just spent hours and hours on the phone with her, as if you are best friends.

If you have not already read Bad Feminist is is my reading recommendation for the summer, fall, winter or spring. Read this book. You won’t regret it.