Final Thoughts on the Conversations on Race

5/25/2016

Throughout this school year, Hopkins has been engaged in a Conversations on Race program that has brought incredible speakers and facilitators to campus, and challenged our students and faculty to have difficult discussions about race and racism in our community and our country.

On Friday, May 20 at assembly Director of Diversity, Amanda Friedman shared a summary of the year-long program, including some trends in feedback from the community, an example of how privilege, access and systemic oppression work, as well as Amanda’s personal thoughts on how to move forward. This thoughtful and powerful address can be seen in the attached video, please watch. Or you can read Amanda's words below.

This was not a closing to the program, as racism and oppression are ongoing challenges. Amanda invited us all to continue the work we have started and keep the conversation going.

Conversations on Race: A Closing

Address delivered Friday, May 20, 2016

Amanda Friedman, Director of Diversity

Eight months and four days ago, I invited us all to lean into a conversation on race. I relied on James Baldwin, acclaimed novelist, essayist, playwright, and social critic to speak a complex truth: “not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” This yearlong program intended to promote inquiry and discussion so we might confront the fraught subject of race in America and work to improve the state of our school. Yes, the deep wounds of racism that our country faces afflict every space, organization, and institution, and we are not impervious here on the Hill. For some people at Hopkins, race is old news, a part of every dinner table conversation, every first impression, every passing glance. For others, it is a new or far-off concept, one to be held at arm’s length, or not considered at all. There are folks for which neither scenario applies, and they are caught somewhere else in this discussion.

Though each person experienced the year and responded to it in their own way, there were undeniable patterns to the insights and questions posed that I hope to share this morning. Throughout the year, you sent countless emails, dropped by to chat, and even called me on the phone. There were four hundred and sixty-nine index cards and six hundred and fifty-one surveys submitted. I so value your time. It is a privilege to receive honest thoughts and feelings from another person. Thank you, for your passion, your candor, and your trust. Here is what you had to say:

You said that, in many ways, the conversation was unproductive;

- the silence was enormous and came from the fear of being labeled as racist, saying the wrong thing, hurting someone unintentionally, of being tired. of. talking;

- you wondered why we had this conversation at all;

- we talked so much about the black and white experience, which made many feel excluded and unable to enter into the conversation;

- it was frustrating not to be heard and believed,

- difficult to navigate listening to people who vehemently disagreed with you;

- the response was strong and negative to the notion of systemic racism put forth by the People’s Institute in the film, particularly the claim that all white people are racist;

- you felt we didn’t actually talk about race;

- you were confused, and helpless in the face of such a huge problem,

- immovable, unchanged, and exposed to propaganda or a liberal agenda;

- you didn’t even know where to begin.

You also said that, in many ways, the conversation was meaningful;

- ideas, perspectives, and experiences surfaced that you never thought about before;

- you developed a better understanding of yourself and others,

- were seen and validated, perhaps for the first time,

- gained the courage to speak your truths, thoughts, and connect with friends, teachers, classmates, family members, and colleagues on another level;

- you were confronted with the difficult realities of the way that the world works, and how people work;

- racism was way more of an issue than you initially believed;

- you learned from Edens and Liza that another person’s story and perspective is a powerful gift;

- you were moved, changed, and resolute to continue.

You asked in some form or another, “What is ‘the system’?” “Where is my place in this conversation?” and “What can I do?”

What profound, complicated, valuable questions. For many of us, conversations about controversial or difficult topics that examine identity are personally challenging and a deep threat to what we know and believe. Particularly for people in majority groups, feelings of guilt, anger, and frustration are natural responses. The discussion of who has what, why, and how is painful for everyone on both individual and societal levels.

So, “what is ‘the system’?” We live in a world that has been set up to welcome some people and exclude others based on things beyond our control. Feel free to raise your hand, or not, as I ask you to consider the following questions: How many people typically walk up or down a flight of stairs at Hopkins? How many do so without any difficulty? How many people think about what it might be like if it were difficult for you, or think about the people for whom stairs pose a challenge? How many people consider the ways that the campus might not be set up with these people in mind?

For some, stairs are painful. For others, impossible. Some are forced to think critically about giving themselves a few extra minutes to make it to their next destination on time. Some people are prevented from walking with their colleagues or friends, even if they want to. None of these challenges are the fault of those who experience them, and we should not blame them. They are not being too sensitive, overreacting, making a bigger deal than they should, or creating problems where they don’t exist.

If you can walk comfortably up and down the stairs, you do not have to consider that stairs pose a barrier for others. It is a privilege, to get around campus unobstructed without having to hold the idea of stairs in your head with the rest of the stress your day might bring. Having this ability, to take the stairs with ease and not think about it, does not make you a bad person. Though it seems natural and normal to you, it is an advantage or privilege that not everyone is afforded. It does not mean you are actively preventing others from being able to get to where they are going. However, you can continue benefitting from an environment that is set up for you even though it creates concrete barriers for others. And since the majority of people in the world hold this privilege, it is easy to forget that there are still a significant number of people who have a much different experience. Consequently, those with an experience that do not match the majority might have been overlooked when the land was acquired and the campus was originally constructed.

But there are ways we have acknowledged that this challenge exists for some and have worked to improve their experience. As a result, we have ramps, railings, elevators, and the wonderful maintenance crew that takes time out of their day for golf cart runs. At some point, someone thought about the barriers to people’s access. It may have been someone who could not get around campus easily. It may have been someone who had a relative or friend that experienced these difficulties regularly. It may have been someone faced with building codes and had no choice. It may have been someone who witnessed a stranger struggling to get up the stairs in another place. Or it may have been someone who, for a moment, put themselves in another’s shoes and considered a different experience. Whomever it was and for whatever reasons, they made the campus accessible to more people. Change did not happen all at once, and I imagine it was fraught with setbacks. Nothing is perfect, but I am sure the current state of campus is a vast improvement from its original form. And I hope we can agree that everyone deserves the right to get around campus freely, even though this right functions as a privilege here and elsewhere.

This is a small, imperfect example of how privilege, access, and systemic oppression work. But this is also a small, imperfect example of how it is possible to dismantle “the system” and make a community a more welcoming, inclusive place.

So, what does this all mean? It means that we walk through the world based on our identities and how society views and responds to us. We have expectations for ourselves and others based on these factors, some good, some bad. We think, communicate, and make choices bound by these assumptions, though they might be unfair or false. It is important to note that we are on the giving and receiving end of this process.

We cannot truly know what it is like to be anyone other than ourselves, and while we possess capacity to sympathize, we cannot easily empathize. I will never know what it is like to be white, have a particular physical difference, or to be gender nonconforming, Catholic or Muslim. I cannot claim these identities as my own because I am Asian and a person of color, without physical difference, cisgendered, and Jewish. There are certain parts of me that create advantages, like identifying with the gender I was assigned, while other aspects of who I am pose challenges, like being a person of color. I cannot change these things, because I cannot change who I am. But I should not feel guilty for the identities where I hold privilege, nor should I feel shame for the parts of myself deemed outside of what is normal, acceptable, and ideal in society.

I need to develop empathy for others. And while interacting, while trying to get to know and understand people, I need to acknowledge that who I am shapes my perspective. I need to be accountable for my judgments toward others cultivated through my upbringing, media consumption, and exposure to messages about those who are like and unlike me. I have no control over laws, history, other people’s opinions or thoughts. But I do have the capacity to learn and find the best version of myself. I possess the strength to share knowledge and understanding with the people I love. I can muster the courage to tell the parts of my story that are painful. I need the will to work past shame and guilt to use my privileged identities and elevate the voices of people who do not have the same opportunities as I do.

Each day I receive powerful, unjust, toxic messages about myself and others. People of color are less capable, less articulate, less trustworthy. Those with physical differences need my help. If you operate outside of a gender binary it is just a phase, or you are ill and need to be cured. Catholics are bigots; Muslims are terrorists; and Jews are deceitful and greedy. In theory, I know all of these things are untrue and that it is quite irrational to make broad brush assumptions about whole groups of people. But my unconscious bias betrays my rational brain on a daily basis. Resisting these messages is hard work and I have to read, and consider, and talk, and wrestle with myself in each moment. I need to do this because the messaging prevents me from understanding, acknowledging, and valuing myself and others. I work, but I fail - every day. It is a long and arduous struggle, but I owe it to myself and my communities to continue trying. Our society is not designed to be equitable for everyone. If I believe it should be, I cannot rest unless I am doing what I can to make it possible.

I am sure many of you are thinking, “But, seriously. What am I supposed to do?” Understanding ourselves and how our identities impact our perspectives, choices, and relationships with others is a paramount first step in dismantling racism and all others forms of oppression. Not giving enough attention to this part of the process would be a disservice to any hope for change. We are nestled in an environment that prioritizes results, so it is easy to grow impatient and feel stuck when we are not provided with concrete solutions. The truth is, there are none.

Our country, the world, is wrestling to find answers just as we are. This truth is incredibly unsatisfying and I know it provides no solace to people who want to “do” something. But previous speaker, Charles Blow, spoke to this in one of the small group question and answer sessions after his speech. He said people are talking about race and thinking about racism more now than ever before, and that is a true indicator of progress. We have barely scratched the surface of these issues as an institution, but we needed to start somewhere.

In closing, I offer you yet another invitation: I invite you to make an active choice to engage, especially when it is hard. Think about what ways your entry into these topics might be different from others. What does your gender, your race, your socioeconomic status, your sexuality, your ability, your religion mean to you when talking about race and racism? In moments where you feel discomfort, where do you think those feelings come from and why? The best way to navigate negative feelings in difficult dialogue is to locate, name, and accept them as part of the process. We cannot avoid discomfort or disparaging thoughts and assumptions about others. But we can push beyond them. This is no easy task, but an important one.

I hope in time that we might view the act of dialogue itself as a means to break down the walls that separate us. If we maintain these walls, we will never truly know the world. We will miss out on the gift of experiences that we cannot attain on our own. We will remain sequestered in our separate bubbles, and through our limited scope we will take in but a small sliver of the fullness this world has to offer.

Make no mistake. There is a mountain of work that needs to be done before, during, and after the talking, and we have quite a journey ahead of us to make sense of it all. But if we do not, as a school and as individuals, make a commitment to continue the work we started, it is absolutely certain that nothing will change. Believe that we all belong in this conversation, that our opinions are worthy, our experiences true, and that we are all hurt by racism.

I invite you to join the creators of these index cards, and “avoid silence, begin listening more, and continue being open.” “Avoid disparaging others whose ideas are in conflict with your own, try and look through the eyes of others when debating a sensitive topic, and check your bias.” “Listen to others and believe they are being truthful about their experiences and feelings.”

While considering how to close this address, I had the urge to end on an invigorating, inspiring, and uplifting note that we’ll find a way to solve it all and live liberated, authentic lives. But racism is infuriating. It is painful. It is so deeply woven into the fabricate of our society that there is no easy fix. So I simply stand here hoping that you will believe me and deem it necessary to overcome all forms of oppression, despite the odds. Please join me in fighting for a world that is unabashedly equitable and just for all people. What next? That is entirely up to you.

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