In Reflection of “We Are All Projects...Together We’re Strong” at this Moment in History. Trying to Make Sense of It All.

I woke up this morning thinking about about a lot of things: the gathering that friends of mine put together in Stratford as a peaceful protest of our nation's shenanigans, photographs of cities across the country demonstrating peaceful, passionate protests, and more that capture frustration and rage. I also have images of damage done in Louisville, Kentucky - my second home - including the graffiti and markings upon the J. Graham Brown school, my very definition of American possibility, vision, and hope. My prayers continue to go up, for all, especially those that love that school.

I was telling my mother that in 1992, as a 19-year old studying Literature of Exile and the Black British Experience in London with Dr. Carol Boyce Davies, everything about my world changed for the better. It was 28 years ago when Ronnie King was beaten and flames of frustration went ablaze across Los Angelas. Friends and I sat in a tiny flat on Wigmore Place with a small t.v. watching as things unfolded. I said, "We will return to a different America." My friends said, "No. This is the America that has always been." That time in London with individuals from so many backgrounds changed my perspectives and understanding forever. Reading Carol Boyce Davies scholarship and being led into colonial and post colonial histories offered me an early chance to see global inequities, injustice, frustrations, crimes, and systemic power structures that maintain it all. As a 19-year old, I learned that my upbringing and safety in a working class suburb of Syracuse, New York was only one reality in this complicated, unfair world. I made the decision not to squander my college experience, and turned my mind and pursuits towards understanding it all. I began to read, to talk, to embrace, and to read, and talk, and embrace again. Surrounding myself in a culture of sameness no longer appealed to me; rather, my mind was empowered through embracing others.

I've always known I'd teach, and it was Dr. Davies influence on me that inspired me to work in urban school districts. Fortunate for me, I found employment at the J. Graham Brown School with a mission for diversity, equity, high standards for all kids, and social justice. That beautiful, quirky, hard-working, forward-thinking school was the epitome of what American COULD be if energies, focus, and purpose were invested onto youth...all youth. Ah, but it was a small, spoiled experiment that only benefited a few kids each year. With a mission of representing all the zip codes of Louisville and its drive to encourage young people to be political and proactive, and its quirky sense of humor and relaxed atmosphere, it was a highly unusual location. Inevitably, I fell in love with everything about it. Seeing it marked as it was from the protests, simply had me shaking my head. While there, I recognized my luck and fortunes. Upon leaving, I began seeing why schools like that should be everywhere; in fact, they should be our cultural norm.

In this month's Journal of Adult and Adolescent Literacy, my teaching friends William King and Jessica Baldizon, helped me to respond to a special request to outline some of the work we've been able to do at the Connecticut Writing Project at Fairfield University. Since 2014, we've established Young Adult Literacy Labs - summer programs for youth where we mix communities, promote writing, and offer the best of young adult literature, teaching, instruction, and collaboration. Our article, "We are all Projects....Together we're Strong," begins with a musical verse created in collaboration between the heterogeneous medley of young people we work with,

We’re all citizens. We have a voice. In our democracy, there’s always a choice.

We are all projects, making our way—finding these voices, having our say,

writing our lives, and singing this song,

divided we’re conquered, together we’re strong.

Everything about the writing: the years it took to build, the influence of the Brown School on the work's design, the ritual of hosting the programs each summer, and the absolute investment in young people from multiple backgrounds feels ironic right now during a pandemic and with social unrest. Anyone who has ever taught in urban schools - any schools - understands the frustration, aggravation, confusion, emotions, and complexities of what is going on. 

Black Lives Matter. They always have. They always will. The fact that so many in this nation can't bring themselves to say it, and continue to justify actions against Black populations that are unfair, unjust, and wrong, and continue to come to the defense of the very individuals who intentionally act against Black populations infuriates me. The teacher in me wants to figure it out, and I realize it is the failure of our schools. It is also the failure of parenting. It the failure of adults. It is the failure of us, as citizens, to work effectively with policy makers and politicians to rethink, redo, rework, and reimagine the very institutions that keep the tremendous inequities thriving. 

Last night, Chitunga and I built a Saturday night fire and stared into it with one of our neighbors. Our fire was in the back yard and not on our streets. For this we are fortunate.

We didn't start the fire

It was always burning

Since the world's been turning

We didn't start the fire

No we didn't light it

But we tried to fight it

I thought about that ol' Billy Joel song, the fact that Chitunga's Master's ceremony regalia arrived in the mail yesterday from LeMoyne, two weeks after he was supposed to graduate, and that a whole generation of young people who have worked hard are cheated out of the very rituals they deserve. It's not right, and these young people are recording everything at this moment in history, especially the animosity, blaming, and hypocrisy of adults before them who have allowed this world to be presented to them. They see. They know. And the best of them, like Chitunga, will move forward to bring a better world. 

I could never bring damage to another's property, but I can understand rage and frustration. Angela Collett Parsons, Principal of the J. Graham Brown School, posted these words about the moment right now, with photos from the protests,

This is the condition of the J. Graham Brown School and Ahrens this morning. Prayers for everyone. Stay safe. Black lives matter. 

Do not make any negative comments about the protesters on this post. #BlackLivesMatter 

Just a point of clarification for those who don’t understand why I don’t want to see negative comments about the protesters. I support peace and discourse in all instances. However, I would never put greater importance on a building than on people. Our school is not this building; our school is made up of a diverse body of beautiful souls. Some of our school family is suffering as are members of our greater community. The suffering of people angers me, not this vandalism. I would never support vandalism, but we have greater problems in our community upon which we need to focus. Negativity and condemnation of those suffering is not a solution.

Without a solution, I chose to teach. I put my efforts forward through my actions and I will continue to do this forever and for always. I realize this is true of others, as well, and for as long as I've been alive I watched how others act and do. Actions have always spoke louder than words. If I still resided in Kentucky, I would be there, at the school, helping the Brown community do whatever it needed so that the integrity and mission of that building could continue. I would advocate for my students, teach diverse books, and hold the academic bar high for all. I would fight ignorance, promote democracy, and work to make America what its mission statement has always been since the beginning (and not only for the the White few). It's Humbled Togetherness - Ubuntu. As an individual, I can only be so much...in a community of other individuals, however, the work we can do can be amazing.

It's time we show the world what amazing should really look like.

My love and support to all who are hurting right now. A special hug and round of applause for Louisville Council Woman Keisha Dorsey. Seeing you in the news, advocating from your heart, speaking for the people, and trying to help the city heal has brought tears to my eyes. I knew in 2003 the special human being you were always meant to be (you remain the student I wrote the most recommendations for). I'm proud of you, just as I'm proud for anyone and all who are doing right for the world with love, respect, hard work, and human compassion.

Phew. There's much work to be done, and that begins today.