Learning How to Learn from Others

My fiancé and I awaiting the start of Tetzlaff's

performance at Taft Theatre, in Cincinnati, OH. 

It was Saturday- late evening- as my fiancé and I clumsily climbed into the backseat of our Lyft, leaving a beautiful performance by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.

Both a bit tipsy from our wine at the theatre, and with the final cadences of acclaimed violinist Christian Tetzlaff's performance still humming in our minds, we sleepily began to engage in the usual polite conversation one would expect from a Lyft passenger.

Our driver was Hassan, a kind and quiet gentleman, with a lovely yet not entirely recognizable accent. His quiet voice sounded like he had seen places and things far beyond my personal experience, and I was intrigued.

Beginning with the fairly customary "How long have you been driving this evening?" and "How long have you been with Lyft?" my fiancé largely carried on the pleasantries, as I drifted further from dazed sleepiness and closer to full-on slumber in the backseat of the Honda Accord. (Again, I blame the vino.) 

"Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

It was not the question that caught my attention, as I am always curious to learn the background of those with whom I interact, it fascinates me- whether the answer is Des Moines or Dubai, I am fairly certain I have quite a bit I can learn from nearly anyone I meet. 

It was Hassan's answer- truly, the lack thereof- that piqued my interest. 

Hassan paused for a moment, as if the question threw him off slightly, before responding,

"Everywhere." 

But that can't be the case! 

Well, when pressed for detail, Hassan began listing all the countries that he had called home, and he recited such a lengthy list that even my sober self would not have been able to absorb all of the information, I regretfully admit. Naturally, I was further intrigued. 

While I generally respect individual privacy above all, and I rarely choose to press for details unless they are offered first, apparently my curiosity + wine is an awfully emboldening combination. I immediately wanted to learn more about Hassan's experiences in the US, especially in comparison with his global experiences, and to educate myself more fully regarding the experience of multicultural individuals in our nation. 

My desire was selfish. 

I didn't realize it at first, either, so if you are not in complete agreement just yet- keep reading.

~ in vino veritas ~

Hassan was a marvelous fellow and a truly good sport, tolerating my (again, tipsy- that vino!) questions and continual probing for further details. I learned quite a bit from him in that 25 minute Lyft ride, for which I am incredibly grateful, as I feel he learned little to nothing from me. 

(I do think I encouraged him to follow Kylie Jenner on Snapchat, though, so I was clearly on top of my intellectual game and not at all annoying, I'm sure.)  

When we arrived at our apartment and said our goodbyes, I somehow came to my senses and realized that I had been, perhaps, just a bit too brazen with my unfettered curiosity. 

So I apologized, genuinely, for asking what I deemed to be inappropriate questions that he should not have felt compelled to answer. 

Again, Hassan was a terrific sport, so he accepted my apology with grace and we all shared mutually pleasant goodbyes. 

Once we had stepped inside, my fiancé inquired as to why I had felt the need to apologize. He assured me that I had been eager, perhaps, but not rude or overly invasive. While my conscience appreciated the support, I still knew I had overstepped the appropriate bounds of social learning. 

What ensued next was a 2+ hour conversation between the two of us regarding the nature of social learning vicariously through the experiences of others, specifically people of color. It was quite enlightening for us both, even in our tipsy state, and I might mention, part of the reason I can't wait to marry this man, who shares my passion for discussion and debate.

Inspired by our discussion, and the sources I viewed during it, I wish to present a practical guide for approaching social learning situations, again, especially when addressing and wishing to learn from people of color, who have had a much different experience here in the U.S. than have I. 

So my question has always been: how can I, as an ally, learn and support without marginalizing members of minority groups?

From personal experience and some cursory research (citations linked below), here are just a few tips I have found that are helpful reminders when seeking knowledge via the experiences of others:

1. If you are not a part of the marginalized group, do not assume your voice is needed in communities. Allies are welcomed, but commandeering the discourse is not allyship, nor is it productive. 

2. Listen much more than you speak. (This one is difficult for me especially, as I am curious, talkative, and I tend to ask many questions, but it is certainly worth improving upon.) 

3. Do not discuss issues in the binary, as this is the core of an intersectional philosophy. Race is not rendered merely in terms of black/white, sexism is not merely male/female, ableism is not merely able-bodied/disabled, etc. There are varying degrees of any experience, and most people experience more than one, isolated identity. 

All divisions of people are somewhat arbitrary, and thus any singular "group" is necessarily non-homogeneous in nature.

4. In line with point #3, yet slightly nuanced (and perhaps the most important tidbit of all): It is never appropriate to treat a member of a marginalized group, or of multiple marginalized groups, as a spokesperson for their collective experience. 

While it is so important to ask, to learn, and to be curious, I remind myself that, when I am seeking to expand my cultural knowledge, getting to know the individual is the most important thing.

Ultimately, maintaining a people-centered approach to social learning is important and something I endeavor to do always, in order to remain as ethical as possible in my interactions with my fellow humans.

(Unless, perhaps, you are the unfortunate driver to have me as a passenger post-symphony vino, and for that, I apologize. But in all seriousness, I do advocate following Kylie on Snapchat, her cosmetic line is on point.)

Until next time, xx

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Sources & Further Reading:

Discussing Race & Racism With Your Black Friends: Dos & Don'ts

6 Ways Allies Still Marginalize People of Color- and What to Do Instead 

5 Initial Ways You Can Be a Better Ally to People of Color

6 Ways to Be a Better Ally to People Living With Disabilities

Seeing Color

For non-minority groups, it is a common trend in the way of what many consider U.S. "political correctness" to insist that one "does not see color."

But, to many POC, this simply translates to, "I don't see you. I am blind to the injustices or experiences you and others have faced."

While most people who make such a statement mean well and quite genuinely have the best intentions, an attitude of perfect neutrality regarding race is morally and historically misguided.     

At least in the U.S., race is still an issue. 

I believe this needs to be said more often. Race issues are not the only issues, or necessarily even the greatest issues our nation faces on any given day. However, to dismiss advocacy for greater racial equality as "unnecessary" because "it is 2017," is simply ignoring reality. 

To form an objective view of U.S. history, and accordingly, a maturely qualified love for our country, we cannot ignore the racial struggles and experiences of so many of our own people.     

The U.S. has had an extremely poor history with race relations, and it has not yet to this day made appropriate reparations. Most prominently, blacks in the U.S. have suffered at great lengths, and the effects of this suffering are felt still today, generations after the abolition of slavery itself. 

For hundreds of years, blacks were enslaved, tortured, and politically and economically oppressed. The nation has not, by any means, had the quickest response to remedy any of this. The abolition of slavery was merely the beginning, not the end. 

We as a country are certainly still working on our message of inclusivity, and there is much work to be done.

Image credit: @feministastic :IG

From our current studies in Constitutional law, my classmates and I are seeing how the U.S. has had a horrendous history of systematic and institutionalized racism, and an equally horrendous history of “correcting” it.

The U.S. policies towards race went from being exceedingly oppressive toward blacks, to being exceedingly neutral (or attempting to).

This does zero good for the oppressed group.

When you go from a set of policies that favor a majority group, to a set of policies that attempt to not differentiate between groups, you get a society that continues to favor the majority group in practice, while having “racial equality” on paper. Of course, things have changed in this regard, but the sentiment remains among many non-minority groups today. 

It is this same sentiment that leads many non-minority groups to react poorly when POC attempt to discuss contemporary U.S. racial issues. 

It is particularly evident in the two most common responses by whites to any attempt to initiate a conversation about existing racism in the U.S.: 

#1. “All lives matter.”

Yes. Sure. All lives matter, yup. But that is missing the point. 

The point of the movement includes an implied “too” following the statement.

If you fail to see that you have missed the point. White lives have mattered forever. Black lives have mattered for what, maybe 40 years? That might be a generous estimate. 

The point of the movement is to draw attention to the race issues that still exist for blacks today, not to respond with, “Oh but wait, me, I matter too! I'm white and I matter!”

We already know. Everyone knows. But right now, in the face of police violence, economic disadvantage, and disparate treatment of non-whites in this country, it is important to remember that black lives matter too. 

The essence of the movement is to remind us of this, and keep us socially and politically active regarding the matter. It is not a movement to oppress whites. It is a movement to uplift blacks. There is a very distinct difference between these concepts- and failure to see it often is a result of one's own discomfort at confronting the unpleasant, a social defense mechanism, of sorts. 

While this may at times be an understandable initial reaction from non-marginalized individuals, it isn't a conducive discourse. Discussing inequality is unpleasant, and people should feel uncomfortable. Discomfort prompts the change we desire. 

(I will spare you the contrived, trite, and insanely overused- yet slightly on-point- lobster and its shell metaphor.) 

And if you're still not convinced, visit: Why ‘All Lives Matter’ Is Such a Perilous Phrase

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And then, the inevitable....

#2. “I don't see color.”

Well, if you don't see color then you are simply erasing the history of experiences of people of color. You are telling people that you do not see them, their individual struggles, or the horrific treatment of POC throughout U.S. history.

And when we fail to acknowledge and remember history…. well, you know how the saying goes.

The moral of the story is:

White people don’t like being made to feel uncomfortable on the subject of race, and the above statements are in response to such discomfort.

If you begin a conversation with a white person about issues affecting POC, and they respond with one of the above (or something similar), they are dismissing race as a non-issue simply because they feel awkward.

That's not okay, and if you hear such a thing, you may kindly remind them of such.

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What Is Intersectionality and Why Should We Care?

"There is no thing as a single-issue struggle because we do not live single-issue lives."

-Audre Lorde

Image credit: http://alp.org/about/audre.

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This being the first blog entry that I have composed, I feel I ought to begin with the very basics.

That is: what is the meaning of intersectionality, and why is it important today in each of our lives? 

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Intersectionality is likely a familiar term to many, but to most probably elicits distant memories of high school civics courses or undergraduate sociology seminars. From my own experience in sociology lectures, I can remember little more than discussing the definition of intersectionality, with little effect given to its grave importance in modern intellectual discourse (not to mention the lack of due credit given to powerful intersectional advocates throughout history, such as Audre Lorde, pictured above).

From nearly any sociology class, one might learn a definition of intersectionality that proceeds as follows:

"Intersectionality refers to the simultaneous experience of categorical and hierarchical classifications including but not limited to race, class, gender, sexuality, and nationality. It also refers to the fact that what are often perceived as disparate forms of oppression, like racism, classism, sexism, and xenophobia, are actually mutually dependent and intersecting in nature, and together they compose a unified system of oppression. Thus, the privileges we enjoy and the discrimination we face are a product of our unique positioning in society as determined by these social classifiers."
You can access the source for this definition, as well as more information on the subject, Here.

It was not until I began taking more in-depth ethics courses through my philosophy program that I really began to understand the significance of an intersectional ideology in calibrating one's moral compass. While it is useful to understand the impact of various social struggles, such as socioeconomic status, race, gender, age, etc., in their own rights, it is infinitely more useful to understand how these struggles weigh collectively on individuals and families. This is an essential understanding if we as a society wish to better the conditions for all people and make strides toward the asymptote of perfect and unblemished equality.

Oppression is not ever singular or insular in nature, and the most vulnerable groups suffer from a complex combination of social struggles that interact continuously to disadvantage the particular group. It is not until we understand where a person lies on the intersectional spectrum that we can even begin to unpack and address the unique struggles facing the individual. Even then, I am well aware we cannot ever truly understand the depth or impact of collective oppression that any particular person may face. But we can listen- and to do so in an educated manner, we must all adopt an intersectional perspective.

Image credit: https://libcom.org/library/i-am-woman-human-marxist-feminist-critique-intersectionality-theory-eve-mitchell

Intersectionality encompasses both social and economic marginalization, inquiring into how and why societal factors combine to have a greater aggregate effect on these vulnerable populations than any "single-issue struggle" might have alone. It is particularly useful in social analysis because issues do not exist in a vacuum. Commonly, social or financial struggles exacerbate other difficulties for vulnerable populations, rendering individuals unable to remedy any single issue in their lives. It is imperative to have an understanding of how the struggles that face low-income, elderly, or minority populations place these people at greater risk for other issues. Such an understanding allows us to have the appropriate level of compassion for all individuals, regardless of circumstance, and direct our social efforts accordingly.

I began believing strongly in the intellectual accuracy of intersectional social analysis through my philosophy studies. However, I really began to care because of, well, life.

I grew up in a lovely Cincinnati suburb, with loving parents and a stable childhood. I could not be more grateful for the community in which I had the chance to grow up. I am very aware most people are not afforded such an experience. My high school was commonly referred to as "the Madeira bubble"- and it most certainly was. Post-high school, living on the southwest side of Clifton for four years, I certainly changed my perspective a bit.

It was truly invaluable experience and exposure. I admit (at my own chagrin, but for the education of all, as we each need to recognize our deep-seated biases in order to eradicate them) that I became friends with people, whom in high school would have terribly frightened me- simply because of size, color, or socioeconomic status. It is a terribly limiting thing to fear others without knowing them because you will never realize what you have missed in your isolation.

For me personally, it was a sobering realization to dissect my own implicit biases and deconstruct them consciously as I acclimated myself to a seemingly different world. Especially as someone who considered myself enlightened already, it was an awakening I very much needed to experience. It was not automatic, it was not easy, and it required great effort to learn and appreciate struggles so disparate from my own.

Image credit: @defendboyleheights

Two skills I learned were particularly important in learning about the intersectional struggles of others, and using that knowledge to improve myself and be a better human: listening, and reading.

Another skill, in particular, ought to be checked at the door: speech.

Most importantly, I learned that in any conversation about the issues and struggles facing those less privileged than myself, my voice is not the appropriate vehicle to tell the story. I can learn, but I will never know firsthand, and it is not my story to tell.

However, I am obligated to use my privilege to its only moral advantage- that is, to lend a supporting voice to those who suffer different struggles than I. I cannot espouse answers because I do not have them, but I can urge others to listen to those who do. Only if we are willing to learn from one another, and to listen to people who possess very different voices than our own, may we grow and progress.

Traditional diversity theory simply does not tell the whole story.

We all need intersectionality because we are all of different identities, we all have different experiences of privilege and oppression, and we are all beautifully, collectively human.

Image credit: http://www.scottishwomensaid.org.uk/node/4599