EDFD 608 - Diversity Class Reflection Journal

To what degree does race impact my life?

In light of the current social climate, Ive been asking myself something similar. Ive been trying
to educate myself on what privileges I enjoy, how I benefit from them, how other people dont
have those benefits, how other people may be hurt by lack of access to those benefits.

My own race impacts my life in terms of not having to apologize for being me within the system.
I dont feel fear on a daily basis; I dont have to explain my successes; I dont have to account for
the actions of other individuals of my race. This also means that I can stick my head in the sand
and ignore the effects the system has on people of color if I so choose. I dont have to be
involved in the fight or I can feel remain uneducated while other people fight for equality.

Im at a loss for how to be more sensitive to others; for changing a system that gives me
advantages; for sympathizing with people of color in a way that is helpful/useful/impactful rather
than pandering.

Thoughts on Day 1:

I think this is a really good start to a difficult topic. Im disappointed that we are so time limited
due to the STEM Camp schedule; I think we could talk for 8 hours, 5 days this week and still
walk away confused and not any more prepared for the world.

What stood out to you in the video? What experience have you had with a single story? (Either
holding one or being the object of one?)

The ethnocentrism of white America was incredibly apparent in this video. It got me thinking
about the time I discovered that the band Seether is from South Africa. Before I looked up
information about them, Id heard their music and seen a poster and assumed they were an
American band. In the most harmless case this is naive, in the worst case this feeds racism,
sexism, all the isms.

During the three years I was in China teaching at university, I was the only foreigner that some
of the students had ever encountered. Their idea of what an American is came from TV shows
like Friends or The OC or from sports. To them Americans were all rich people who owned
more than one car, who lived in a house with a yard, who had a sibling (or several). Even
presenting ourselves as evidence to the contrary was not enough to change the minds of most
of the students we encountered.

What do you do when someone calls you a racist?

Reflect on why they might be saying that and where theyre coming from. Are they trying to get
a rise out of you? Are they justified based on evidence? Is there a miscommunication that has
led them to reach that conclusion? What actions or words on my part could have created the
situation? Are they just angry and are lashing out defensively or are trying to hurt me the way
they feel hurt?

Reflection for Wed:

My biggest take away of today is why is it that the people who are wrong are the first ones to get
angry, take offense, and then are placated by the people whom they actually wronged. A couple
weeks ago I was at my dads house for a long weekend and he said something about fags and I
had that moment that we talked about in class. The moment where you have a chance to say
something and make a difference or shrug it off and figure hes not going to change. For the first
time in my life I spoke up rather than let it slide. I dont remember exactly what I said, but
something along the lines of he doesnt have to agree with someones lifestyle, but he cant say
those words because its hurtful and wrong. He got angry and defensive with me and said
Why? Long story short, why does he get to be angry and act like hes been attacked. I didnt
yell or accuse him of anything, I just said, hey, think it, but dont say it, its offensive, its not ok, I
dont appreciate it. The weirdness and discomfort faded and I felt empowered for that moment.
Theres always that fear though that by the time you get the courage the next time youll miss the
chance to make that difference. I suppose the answer to the highlighted yellow section is thats
how you keep your power, get angry and defensive at the first sign of losing that power and
decent people will back down and not make waves.

One of my Lego Mindstorm students called me by name and asked me for help today. Thats
not unusual student behavior, but this kid was being deliberately challenging at the beginning of
the week. I dont know what effect Ill have, or well have, or STEM camp will have on this kid
and probably will never have the chance to find out.

Final thoughts on EDFD 608 class:

I wish wed had another week of class time available to us. I certainly was not as uncomfortable
or as without closure as I expected to be (insert a bit of cheekiness here). I really took to heart
the articles on poverty, as thats a topic that is very close to my experience. I wish I knew how to
be better informed about social justice issues. I watch the news and feel helpless to change
things. I dont feel like a leader, I dont feel that I have the authority to begin something or to
lead a movement. As a teacher I have the opportunity to share my ideas and values with say,
100 kids per year, but is that enough to make things better now when those kids arent going to
be out impacting the world for several years at least.
No answers

Thank you, Malachi, for sharing your experiences with us. Its not easy to share certain parts of
ourselves. Ive spent years camouflaging parts of my experience, downplaying how events
shaped me, and faking my way through situations where I felt like I didnt belong. I know that
those words dont begin to describe the challenges that many/most/all people of color face on a
daily basis. Im just trying to say, thank you, for your time and your experiences. I am changed
for having met you. Cynthia

My Racial Autobiography - Cynthia Shepherd

My parents both grew up in rural northern Wisconsin; my mother on a small family farm that
barely made ends meet while my grandfather worked as roofer and my grandmother worked
when she could, where she could. My father grew up in a small town, in a family with too many
kids, while my grandfather worked at the family gas station. I dont know how their early
exposure to minorities/people of color/etc. would be described. Its highly probable that neither
of my parents interacted with non-white people until after high school, my mother at college and
my father as a railroad worker.

As a young child up until age 7 I lived in the town where my father grew up. It was (still is) a
poor, white rural town, its heydey having been the early 20th century lumber era. Now it was
just a poor post-industrial town gasping its last breath. I distinctly remember the first black
person Id ever met, living in this town. Without going into details, my father was out of work and
we had moved from our house into the only section 8 housing in town. This was in the late
1980s and part of Wisconsins welfare system back then required that an adult recipient in the
family do a certain number of community service type work hours to be eligible for benefits. My
mother elected to do her hours as a volunteer paraprofessional at the school.

She was assigned to this kid, a 5th or 6th grader named Shawn. I was in 2nd grade at the time
and he was the first black person Id ever met. My mother told us that the other kids called him
Bubba and that we should never call him that because it was a terrible slang term to call a black
person. So she introduced us to this kid, Shawn. I remember that he lived down by the river,
across the street from the public park with a huge fantastic playground, so sometimes wed see
him when we would walk to the park. I dont know anything else about Shawn. I dont
remember what his house looked like, I dont know anything about his family, and when we
moved away at the end of that school year I would never think about him again until this
assignment.

From 3rd through 6th grades I lived in Eau Claire, WI population 50,000 (or so), which was a
huge change from where wed lived before. I went to a parochial school for two years while we
were there. We were on a scholarship from the church since we were poor, welfare trash and
even though it was supposed to be confidential it seemed that all the kids parents knew whom
to pity and who not to invite to birthday parties. My only friends at this school were the Hmong
girl, Blia, whose parents didnt speak English, the Korean girl, Kelsey, who was adopted as a
baby by a white family, and Elizabeth whose mom was native American and whose dad was
white. Her dad didnt live with them, he just sent money home and I dont remember ever
meeting the man.

I never considered that those girls were any different from me. I mean, they were, but it didnt
change anything for me. Blia wasnt allowed to come to sleepovers or birthday parties. My
mother told me that the Hmong people had very close family ties and religious practices that
were different from ours so I could continue to invite Blia over, but not take it personally if she
never came to anything. She never told me anything about the Hmong people being refugees,
or that they escaped persecution, or that theyd lived in horrible refugee camps for decades
before coming to the U.S. Maybe my mother didnt know these things or didnt think Id
understand. Blia left our school between 4th and 5th grade and thats where her story ended for
me.

Elizabeth was an outcast at the parochial school and I could never figure out why. Her parents
had money, her father was a professor at UW-Madison and her mother didnt have to work. She
had been at the same school since Kindergarten, so she wasnt a newby like I was. I remember
voicing this to my mother and her suggesting it was because Elizabeths mother was native
American. I didnt really understand that at the time. Elizabeth had dark hair and tan skin, but
no darker than how my father looked in the summer and I knew he was German, English, and
Irish, so I didnt understand how skin color could make a kid such an outcast from such an early
age. It wasnt just skin color, but an entire culture of not us. There was one family at our
school who were just the epitome of perfect in the eyes of the principal. Dad was a lawyer, mom
didnt work, girl, boy, girl, boy, and they lived in a house with an in-ground pool. The oldest boy
was in my class and he was a bully, but never was disciplined for his behavior. Thinking about
that little shit still makes me angry. I guess thats the privilege of having professional parents,
blue eyes, and blonde hair.

Kelsey and I spent tons of time together from 4th through 6th grade, right up until I moved away
(literally). Kelseys mom was like a second (probably a better) mother to me and I was
completely comfortable at their house, with their family. Kelseys family was white, she was
adopted as a baby and raised as a white girl. She didnt know much about Korea and when we
were older and talked about deep things she indicated not caring about her biological family, no
interest in going to Korea, etc. In 6th grade we changed schools from the parochial school to a
public middle school and as we made new friends Kelsey and I drifted apart. She was really
into sports and boys and made friends in popular groups. I was a band geek and did sciencey
stuff and continued to pick up leftover friends where I could.
As I mentioned in class, I literally had one non-white teacher K through undergrad, an Iraqi
immigrant who taught political science at my university. Oh, I suppose two, now I can include
Malachi to my list of non-white teachers. And the non-white student population at any of my
schools was limited, one or two students per graduating class, sometimes less. Even when I
went to college, UW-Superior in northern Wisconsin, the majority of our diversity was foreign
exchange students rather than Americans of different ethnic backgrounds.

I can recall having at least one non-white friend for every year since 4th grade. And now I look
back and realize that I have no idea what their personal challenges or struggles were every day
in school, at home, at the grocery store, etc. Not because I was being color blind, not because
I didnt care or didnt notice, but because I had no idea that anyones experience should be any
different from my own.

Regarding curriculum during my school years, I have no idea how races were addressed. I
wasnt particularly fond of social studies, additionally I never remember U.S history getting past
the Roaring Twenties. In English class Im sure Ive had to read Huckleberry Finn and To Kill
A Mockingbird, but I couldnt tell you why they were important books or what my racial take-
away was regarding them. In science class we would learn that theres no biological imperative
for separate races, skin color is based on the amount of melanin that your genes code for, and
despite trying to use science to prove that negroes were inferior we now know that that is false
and poorly executed scientific inquiry.

So where do I go from here. Ive filled over two type pages pointing out the luxury and white
privilege Ive had over the past 35 years of being able to assume everything is hunky-dory for
everyone out there and as long as I dont use the N word or call kids bubba then everything is
OK. Now Ive taken this class and can see those shortcomings but am no closer to knowing
what to do next. Everything I read online says I need to continue to educate myself and be open
to new experiences, to continue to support actual equality, and be aware of my privilege and use
it to help dismantle the system of inequality. Maybe in 50 years theyll be making a documentary
about how things were in the 20-teens and they can interview me about everything Ive seen
and learned and Ill have something positive to contribute to how much better things are in 2066
than they were in 2016 or god forbid in the 1990s back when I was a girl.