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children of color

Post image for Are educators failing our young black men?

For those of you that follow my personal blog, you know that on July 30, I welcomed my second son into the world. While I am honored, overjoyed, head-over-heels and feeling super charmed at being charged with the task of raising another young black male, I, ever the forward-thinking-worry-wart (so aptly named by my Mama), have also been somewhat filled with apprehension at the task.  Now, I have discussed my concerns before as they relate to pressures within our own community.  Recently, however, I came across a video on CNN revealing some startling new facts about black male performance in our national schools.

In the video, CNN correspondents revealed that the national graduate rate for black males is 47%.  Even more appalling, in my hometown of New York City, the graduation rate for black males is just 28%.  While I prepared to watch a video about biased standardized tests and socio-economic disadvantages, I was surprised when CNN Educational Correspondent and author, Steve Perry, pointed the finger directly at the prejudice of educators.  When asked specifically what he thought accounted for the discrepancy, Perry repeated “expectations, expectations, expectations.”  In sum, Perry noted that black males are more likely to be suspended as their behavior is often unfairly categorized as dangerous as opposed to mischievous –   due to educators reacting more adversely to black male behaviors than white children.  He noted that educators often expect our black boys to fail as opposed to expecting them to perform well.  Perry went on to discuss successful charter and private schools whose focus is more on the children as opposed to the educators.  As the Principal and Founder of Capital Preparatory Magnet School, he used his own school as an example of children-focused environments where changing expectations produced better results.

While I am generally skeptical of statistics, this one and the conversation that followed was particularly intriguing to me.  First, while I like to consider myself a true libertarian, I realized as a professional, I have found myself feeling somewhat insulated by own socio-economic status.  Frankly, I just assume graduating high school, college and so forth will not be an issue for my children.  Therefore, it was easy for me to point to socio-economic disadvantages as the root cause of underperformance in our communities.  However, taking a closer look at this conversation and how it has applied to my own upbringing has cast a very bright light on just how true Perry’s commentary is.  I recalled a recent conversation I had with my older brother about an experience he had in high school with a teacher who made him sit in the front of the classroom because he “looked” like he would be trouble.   Knowing my brother and knowing how he was raised, I can confidently say his only offense was being a 6’5” black man.  My brother and I laughed about it but I can tell the incident still left a bitter taste in his mouth and although he graduated, I wondered if the incident contributed to his decision not to pursue higher education.  I know my mother had high expectations of all of her children but were they overshadowed by the low expectations of the school system?  How do we even begin to call educators out on such an innate and institutionalized bias?  Is it even realistic to think that you can change an individual’s expectations of an entire race or is a total overhaul of the education system the only solution? What are your thoughts MOH?

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Post image for Seeing Color

Channeling my last Moms of Hue post, I think an appropriate place to start here is to admit I may have made a mistake.

When I was a child, my mother put me in this amazing daycare.  Since we will be discussing race, I will start by saying it was predominately Black.  It was in a middle class neighborhood in Queens and run by a bi-racial ex-hippie, the focus of the school was not only on educating the “gifted” child, but it was also on enforcing a sense of identity in its young population.  For instance, every morning, after our pledge of allegiance, we turned to the African American flag and chanted the following:

Red is for the blood of my people.

Green is for the land of my people.

Black is for the skin of my people.

Red, Black and Green.

I can not tell you how much this start did for my sense of identity as child.  Admittedly, it made me a little defensive and militant in my first all white school in the fifth grade, BUT acknowledging that the skin I was bathed in came with a unique set of strength, community and characteristics, made me incredibly proud.  I can confidently say, even in the face of the most egregious stereotypes and ignorant people, I never doubted my worth as a Black woman.

Then, somewhere between the start of my higher education and motherhood, the definition stopped being as important.  In fact, it began to irritate me.  I adopted a new outlook that being Black was a smaller part of me.  It came with a long list of definitions.  First, I was a daughter, sister, student, writer, etc., etc.  I resented the fact that I spent seven years educating myself only to be seen in my first professional experience as a Black lawyer.  Black first, lawyer second.  Relegated to “specific” organizations for mentorship and guidance.   As if I studied only the Black people law books and passed the Black people bar.   I felt like holding up a sign like Ossie Davis in Do The Right Thing and screaming, “I’m a man, I’M A MAN.”  Well, a woman….

As a mom, I unintentionally imposed this new sense of identity on my son.  Yes, he is my beautiful, golden brown, black child BUT he is also funny, intelligent, energetic and kind.  I did not want people to look at my husband and me, both over six feet tall, and see our son and think future athlete.  I wanted them to see his two educated parents and think: this child can be whoever he wants to be. 

When I was looking into a new daycare in preparation for our move last summer, I was looking for the best.  While the concept of diversity was not completely lost on me, it certainly did not measure as high on the list.  In fact, like my own racial identity, I placed it last on the list.  I wanted to find an environment that was clean, safe, valued education, was nurturing, family friendly and yes, somewhere down the line, I wanted it to be diverse.  Maybe this came from my own rearing.  After my wonderful daycare experience, my mother worked hard to find the best school for me.  In our neighborhood in Queens, that meant sending me a predominantly white area where I was only one of three.  So, with only a scintilla of reluctance, last fall, I placed my two year old son in a daycare where he was the only child of my new found least important definition.

Like I said, I may have made a mistake.  Shortly after my precocious, fun loving, intelligent child started the day care, we received a progress report from his school describing a child completely different from our own.  According to his teachers, our son was quiet, un-imaginative, and generally withdrawn from the other children.  Our son, who sings Bob Marley songs at restaurants, serenades house guests with his favorite toy microphone, counted to thirty at two, knows all of his colors, playfully encourages the younger children at the playground and challenges me with a “Why?” or negotiation at every request was none of the above at his new school.

Now, I am not going to point my finger and say we had a racist experience.  Racism is a strong word and I do not believe anyone intentionally treated my son differently because of his race.  In fact, I think our experience begs the answer to a much deeper question.  Is it possible that at two years old, he noticed the difference?  Is it possible he looked into a sea of faces and seeing none like his own he felt uncomfortable?  I consider the alternatives, he may be shy, he may feel intimidated by the other children because at home he is the center of our universe or….

Well, consider this.  When I was sixteen, I was a camp counselor at a YMCA Nursery Camp in New York.  The camp was the most diverse representation of races I have ever encountered.  Although it was predominantly Black, in each class there was at least one member of each race.  I remember coloring with two little children in the three year old room, one black and one white.  “Charlie”, the black child looked at my arms and then his and then back to mine and proudly announced, “Me and Ms. Tiara are both brown.”  I smiled at him, thinking his little observation was harmless and continued to color. 

“That’s right, Charlie.”  I encouraged. 

“Sam”, the little white child stopped coloring and looked at her own skin.  Her brows furrowed in worry and she looked at Charlie and I observing our skin and she started to cry.  I was her favorite teacher and she did not want us to be different.  I hugged her tight and convinced little blonde hair, blue eyed Sam that her fair skin was equally as beautiful (that was probably the first and last time someone had to do that). 

So there it is, children see color.  Why wouldn’t they?  It is the most apparent characteristic when we enter a room and the first on the list of descriptors when we leave it.  No matter how hard we try to highlight our other definitions.

So, how important is race in your child rearing?  When and how did you decide to discuss race with your child?  Do you think it’s possible for a toddler to notice the difference? 

Oh and I should note, I am looking for a new daycare.

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Boy… Oh, Boy: Raising a Black Man

by Tiara Faith McCray April 16, 2010 Parenting
Thumbnail image for Boy… Oh, Boy: Raising a Black Man

So, a couple of weeks ago, I found out that the little half-pint taking up residence in my body is… drum roll, please… another beautiful baby boy.  This will be my second child and second boy.  I would be lying if I said I didn’t have some moments envisioning what

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New resource helps girls of color find guidance online

by Kristina Daniele March 7, 2010 Educating
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My friend and fellow Moms of Hue author Traci Lee launched her new resource for African-American young women called BabyGirlz Magazine. I was honored to be able to interview her about her motivation to create the site and her plans for the future.  Our conversation follows. Moms of Hue (MOH):

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What will come of us?

by Barbara Henry February 18, 2010 Helping
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Its not always easy to put into words the experience of growing up in a rough neighborhood, one where drugs and crime have the upper hand. I remember being almost immune to the sound of gunshots because they were so common. I also remember, one morning on my way to

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Like mother, like daughter

by Barbara Henry January 21, 2010 Loving
Thumbnail image for Like mother, like daughter

Both, my daughter and I, have been very blessed over the past 6 years, to be surrounded by individuals who are all heading in the same direction.  We live in a relatively safe community of students, with an elementary school in a good district, right in our backyard.  This was

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Little Asian girl in a bubble

by Barbara Henry October 9, 2009 Educating
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Sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that not everything in life is obvious, that our notion of “common sense” is simply the core of what ideologies are based on, and that in a world of difference we will never stop learning from each other. Asian Girl In a Bubble:

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The blacker the berry

by T. Allen-Mercado August 22, 2009 Educating
Thumbnail image for The blacker the berry

How do we as consumers, members of social media and broadcasting embody hueism? It is a difficult question, but as the prevalence of divisive typecasting by complexion abounds, one must ask which- if either, berry indeed has the sweetest juice?

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