How to learn and teach DEI

This post may be useful to you, if you’re teaching and still learning about DEI like I am…

In the TED Talk “How mindfulness changes the emotional life of our brains,” Richard J. Davidson explains:

Research from neuroscience leads us to understand that there are two fundamentally different kinds of learning. One form of learning we call “declarative learning,” which is learning about things. I can learn the value of kindness by sitting down and studying texts about kindness, but this won’t necessarily lead us to become kinder. We can teach people the value of honesty, but this will not necessarily make them an honest person. In order to cultivate these qualities, we need a second form of learning, and that is called “procedural learning.” Neuroscience teaches us that these kinds of learning operate through totally different brain circuits. We need both to produce real transformation. The wiring in our brains is not fixed; it’s adaptable. And we can harness the power of neuroplasticity to change our brain [emphasis added].

While Davidson’s topic is mindfulness, he could just as well be discussing learning DEI fluency:

DEI fluency grounds policy and practice in the understanding and discernment of diversity, equity, inclusion and justice (Gorski, 2013), rather than the memorization and mastery of specific words and rules. DEI fluency is “not a state at which one arrives; rather it is a process of learning, unlearning, and relearning… throughout a lifetime” (AEA, 2011) to “bring into check power imbalances, engage in respectful and dynamic partnerships with others, and hold systems and structures accountable” (Tervalon and Garcia) for equity and inclusion. DEI fluency comprises:

• Intentionally growing oneself;
• Cultivating relationships with others;
• Shaping one’s environment and context “toward justice” (Parker, 1871);
• Learning and practicing language, tools and skills to advance equity and inclusion, for mutual individual, community and institutional thriving at the “micro, to mezzo and macro” levels (Chavez, Tervalon, & Murray-Garcia, 2012) of a community.

The learning processes by which we develop our DEI fluency absolutely needs to be a hybrid of declarative and procedural learning. As a facilitator, I’m always striving to balance and integrate, for the specific group with whom I’m working, at their stage of practice, in the context that we have:

• providing information and context to create an informed basis upon which we can learn – for example, if we don’t define “diversity,” we may be fundamentally miscommunicating with each other; and
• asking you to do your work. There’s no way to own the work of equity, inclusion and justice without meaning-making yourself – for example, if you don’t apply DEI to your own everyday or strategic work, then it may always be extra, separate and theoretically important but not necessarily integrated.

As Davidson argues, we can’t just read and listen our way to transformative practice and outcomes. We have to practice and create.

This means creating space where silence is OK (and we talk about silence as a method to discern, to stay safe, to avoid discomfort… so that we are intentional about our silence); where it’s OK not to know how; where “mistakes are OK” and it’s OK not to be “perfect”; and where, when my growth inflicts harm and/or perpetuates systemic oppression (intentionally or not), I acknowledge my impact and strive to repair…

This means we have to create anti-white supremacist, patriarchal spaces to really teach and learn about equity, inclusion and justice, spaces in which visceral and transformative growth can happen. Which is both scary (what if people get hurt?) and awesome (what if we change the world, starting with us right here?)

Putting the insurrection in context

From Arnold Schwarzenegger:

And I recommend reading Nick Paton Walsh’s opinion piece: “America was lucky to be saved by its democracy — even if some don’t realize it,” in which he writes about “the extraordinary privileges [US] Americans live with daily.”

“We’re really verbs.”

Vipassana meditation practitioner and teacher Jack Kornfield says, “We tend to think of ourselves as nouns, and we’re really verbs.”

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, with regard to the phrase: “This isn’t us,” which usually follows the public disclosure or witnessing of something within a community that the community would rather not be associated with.

Like in 2016 when predominantly white high school basketball teams and their fans in Indiana and Iowa chanted “Trump! Trump!” and “Build a wall! Build a wall!” at games against teams with Latine and Hispanic players. Their educational leaders issued statements essentially claiming “this isn’t us” (and insinuating that even if it was the students, it certainly isn’t what we teach – read: not our fault).*

And like now, in so many of the reactions to the attempted coup by white nationalists (I think that term applies here, not as a euphemism for white supremacy, but to highlight this particular strategy of white supremacy: nation-building).

Now is not the time for us believe in the noun of American exceptionalism.

Now is the time for us to practice exceptionalism as a verb.

I didn’t have the words for this, until I read this statement from U.S. ambassador to Uganda Natalie Brown**:

“America’s democracy is not perfect, and the United States is not without fault,” said U.S. ambassador to Uganda Natalie Brown, a career Foreign Service officer and a Black woman.

“But when we speak out against human rights abuses, we do so not because such abuses do not occur in America. When we speak out for press freedom, we do so not because American journalists are entirely free of harassment. When we call for judicial independence, we do so not because judges in America are free of external influence,” she said in a statement. “On the contrary, we do so because we are mindful of the work still to be done in the American experiment with democracy and because our history has taught us that democracy must be defended if it is to endure.”

Agreed.

And so, in what may not be the wake but a wave of insurrection that may not have crested yet, I’m trying really hard not to noun myself or people whose actions I don’t understand and whose words and actions make me angry and, even worse, despair. I’m really trying to accept that right now, the US isn’t just “not perfect”: we’re failing, and that failing – just like in school (I hope) – is not a permanent judgment or condition. It’s what we’re doing now, and what we can change.

Some additional thoughts:

* If you’re wondering what to say about the attempted coup, this post may be helpful. While it’s about saying what you have to say to your community about racism, the same principles apply here. And, while you could talk about this insurrection movement without talking about the racism (classism, xenophobia and sexism) from which it originated and which facilitated it, I believe that would be a figurative, significant whitewashing of history.

** I noticed that ABC News included in their coverage that Ambassador Brown is a black woman. While I can infer valid reasons why they did, I disagree with their decision to describe gender and race for Brown only: it’s worth putting on the record when we’re hearing the perspectives of white men (who are also President, Vice President, Secretary of State…) Otherwise, the implication is there, all too easily activated: that being a white man is being “just human.” As if white men, singularly among all social groups, transcend any “identity politics,” and “have no agenda,” when the human truth is that we all inevitably speak and hear each other through our positionality.

Wondering how to talk to students today?

Today is Thursday, January 7th, the day after the first insurrection against the US federal government in modern history. Maybe you’re searching for how to talk about yesterday’s assault on Capitol Hill–or just searching for words. (It was only yesterday that I had a reason to learn the difference and connection between sedition and insurrection.)

I don’t have any solutions, lesson plans or scripts for you (and now is the time to practice having conversations we may not have been prepared for, but that we need to have, and that it’s better to learn how to have together than to feign “I got this”). I just wanted to offer what’s on my mind from and about yesterday, in case it’s helpful, as you think about talking, teaching and learning with your students:

• I might use clips from the late night coverage of the assault on Capitol Hill (yes, these are all white men, which is worth naming, noticing and reflecting on) to illustrate that we can’t just objectively or intellectually talk about the insurrection. This is a head, heart, gut conversation that ultimately also requires action (see 3rd bullet). Watching how these men hadn’t planned on but now needed to address the insurrection may open up a conversation about how to “show up” for the conversation you’re trying to have.
• Because you can reasonably anticipate jokes, sarcasm or outrage (from multiple perspectives) from the kids, it may help to proactively name that, and talk about it. Consider the clip of “Elizabeth from Knoxville” reacting to getting pepper sprayed for breaking into a federal building – people are mocking her. Why? Because it’s funny, although it’s also not funny. We’re uncomfortable. And how do we even begin to react to something as momentous as what happened yesterday? We focus on what we can.
• “We don’t know what we’re looking at yet. Is this the end of something? Or the beginning of something? Is the death throes of something ugly in our country — desperate, about to go away? And then the vision that Biden talked about going to rise up? Or are these birth pains of a worse disorder? That’s where we are right now” (Van Jones). This is Jones speaking yesterday during the riot. I’d use this to talk with kids about what I, they, we want to be beginning and ending… and what each of our roles is in that change.
• “Act like this is your first coup, if you want to be sure that it’s also your last” (Zeynep Tufekci). Also from Tufekci: “It’s not enough to count on our institutions to resist such onslaughts. Our institutions do not operate via magic. They do not gain their power from names, buildings, desks, or even rules. Institutions rely on people collectively agreeing to act in a certain way. Human laws do not simply exert their power like the inexorable pull of gravity. Once people decide that the rules are different, the rules are different. The rules for electoral legitimacy have been under sustained assault, and they’re changing right before our eyes.”
  • I read this article when it first came out and thought about it yesterday. I don’t think that the rhetoric of US American exceptionalism, including the idea that yesterday was “not who we are,” is helpful. (This is also the standard line that communities deploy then we witness racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, anti-Semitic, Islamoracist or xenophobic actions by our own people.) I believe we need to own that who we are is what we do. So yesterday on Capitol Hill demonstrated also who we are and can be… (which takes us back to Van Jones).
• I might be comparing headlines with students today and asking them to notice their news diet, the power of confirmation bias (in reactions to headlines) and talk about media consumption skills because this is an opportunity to build DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) fluency, including but not limited to media literacy. There are ideas like “both sides” (false equivalencies) and tactics like posing “whatabout”isms that we need to name and challenge.

And if you’re wondering where this is all coming from, I’m leaning on Blink’s protocol for what to say or do (when we didn’t expect what’s happening):

1. noticing my reflexive response: how I’m reacting/what’s up with me
2. accepting what is, and reflecting on why (of course) this is happening because if I’m going to be effective, not just right, then understanding how we got here will be helpful
3. taking multiple perspectives – adding to my reasonably informed basis of understanding, as opposed to engaging in a discourse of uninformed certainty (deCastell)
4. Asking “so now what?” and holding myself accountable for discerning individual responsibility and action, and the responsibility and action for which I’ll need community and allies.
   

“If a man…”

For context, the actor Emma Thompson wrote a letter to Skydance Media after Skydance announced that they were hiring animator and (multiply) alleged sexual harasser John Lasseter as the head of their animation division. In short, Thompson, just couldn’t – and wouldn’t – work with Lasseter.

I wanted to share from the annals of 2020…

Because MeToo wasn’t just a trend or a moment.

Because Thompson presents a series of questions that any company or community should ask themselves about safety, equity and inclusion, including about “second [and third, and fourth and fifth] chances”… for whom, at the expense of whom.

Because this letter models and calls for individuals to use their agency to effect institutional-level action and change.

As you know, I have pulled out of the production of “Luck” — to be directed by the very wonderful Alessandro Carloni. It feels very odd to me that you and your company would consider hiring someone with Mr. Lasseter’s pattern of misconduct given the present climate in which people with the kind of power that you have can reasonably be expected to step up to the plate.

I realise that the situation — involving as it does many human beings — is complicated. However these are the questions I would like to ask:

• If a man has been touching women inappropriately for decades, why would a woman want to work for him if the only reason he’s not touching them inappropriately now is that it says in his contract that he must behave “professionally”?
• If a man has made women at his companies feel undervalued and disrespected for decades, why should the women at his new company think that any respect he shows them is anything other than an act that he’s required to perform by his coach, his therapist and his employment agreement? The message seems to be, “I am learning to feel respect for women so please be patient while I work on it. It’s not easy.”
• Much has been said about giving John Lasseter a “second chance.” But he is presumably being paid millions of dollars to receive that second chance. How much money are the employees at Skydance being paid to GIVE him that second chance?
• If John Lasseter started his own company, then every employee would have been given the opportunity to choose whether or not to give him a second chance. But any Skydance employees who don’t want to give him a second chance have to stay and be uncomfortable or lose their jobs. Shouldn’t it be John Lasseter who has to lose HIS job if the employees don’t want to give him a second chance?
• Skydance has revealed that no women received settlements from Pixar or Disney as a result of being harassed by John Lasseter. But given all the abuse that’s been heaped on women who have come forward to make accusations against powerful men, do we really think that no settlements means that there was no harassment or no hostile work environment? Are we supposed to feel comforted that women who feel that their careers were derailed by working for Lasseter DIDN’T receive money?

I hope these queries make the level of my discomfort understandable. I regret having to step away because I love Alessandro so much and think he is an incredibly creative director. But I can only do what feels right during these difficult times of transition and collective consciousness raising.

I am well aware that centuries of entitlement to women’s bodies whether they like it or not is not going to change overnight. Or in a year. But I am also aware that if people who have spoken out — like me — do not take this sort of a stand then things are very unlikely to change at anything like the pace required to protect my daughter’s generation.

Yours most sincerely,

Emma Thompson