September 8, 2017
A letter of hope to my daughter.
Dear Camille,
You are ten years old. In that relatively short amount of time, you have experienced kindness and compassion from your friends and family who tell you and show you in innumerable and immeasurable ways that they love you. They tell you they love your beautiful hair- extensions, braids, curls, waves, and the colors. In that same time and space, people have been mean to you for no other reason than simply because of the color of your skin. It is uncomfortable for me to use the word “simply” as a way to discuss skin color. I am at odds over that because I understand that the color of your skin is not simple. It is complex. I guess I just think that the color of your skin, or anyone else whose skin isn’t white for that matter, should be a simple thing. But it’s not. It is complex. People have been killed, excluded, and enslaved because of the color of their skin.
Tears start and stop as I write you this letter. I am not sure why I am emotional writing this letter or what the tears even mean- joy? Sadness? Exhaustion? Guilt? Maybe life is about starting and stopping too. I know my work and school schedules have taken time away from us that we won’t get back. I know your life is complex. Your experiences as an African American girl are different and incomparable to mine as a white female. I have something that you do not have and will never have. It is something called white privilege, and our country does a great job of enacting white privilege as a way to marginalize and oppress people.
I want you to develop your own narrative. Ultimately, my hope is that your narrative is a positive one. I hope you use the adversity that you experience, which will most likely be a consequence of your status as an African American female, to change the world. More specifically, I hope you shift systemic racist structures that exist in your school, city, county, state, and country. I have hopes for you that I am not able to find the words for….yet.
What we have in common is that we are both female. What we don’t have in common is race. I will never assume to know what your experience is in this world as a black girl, and more sooner than later, your experience as a black woman.
I want for you, what you want for yourself.
I want you to understand that although the country we live in was founded on inequity and racism, it is my core belief that we can change that. Gloria Ladson-Billings is a critical scholar who has advanced my thinking about the intersectionality of race and schooling. I am not going to attempt to explain Gloria’s writings to you in a way that connects to your current age. I have high expectations for you and know that you can understand complex concepts. More importantly, what I know to be true about you is that you will ask questions when you have them.
In her writings, Gloria explains how there are persistent problems of racism in schooling due to the fact that scholars have failed to theorize race. “Whiteness” or being white comes with numerous advantages that you do not get because you are African American. Exclusionary systems are in place with race and property, as well as race and education, that date back to the early colonization of the United States. These systems have changed little and it is these systems that will work to reinforce inequitable experiences for you in your future. Naming your own reality is important and necessary because it is situational.
That said, it is mathematics that has opened doors for me. I hope math will open doors for you as well. I hope that success in math will get you where you want to be. Math has opened doors for me that have, in turn, resulted in higher confidence, as well as leadership and professional advancement/growth opportunities. There is an achievement gap in mathematics and statistically, you are on the negative side of that gap. Your discourse and identity as an African American female student are important factors that contribute to your success in mathematics. Critical educational theorist, James Paul Gee (2004) defines discourse as “distinctive ways people talk, read, write, think, believe, value, act, and interact with things and other people to get recognized (and recognize themselves) as a distinctive group or distinctive kinds of people.” It is up to you how to determine the ways in which you will choose to talk, read, write, think, believe, value, act, and interact with maths, as well as how you decide to recognize yourself as a distinctive doer of math. It is my belief that your mathematical discourse is tied to your identity. You are beautiful and math is beautiful. It is up to you to determine what is beautiful to you. Write and believe in your own words. Question and understand the words of others.
I am your mom and love you more than anyone. It is both of our collective and shared responsibilities to enact change that will make the world an equitable place. Keep showing your will to persevere, your will to not give up, and your will to keep trying. Math also takes patience too and I know you can do hard things.
I conclude this letter to you, Camille, with two quotes that make me think of you, and of us, as mother and daughter navigating this world.
The first one is from author Edwidge Danticat, “There is always a place where, if you listen closely in the night, you will hear a mother telling a story and at the end of the tale, she will ask you this question: 'Ou libéré?' Are you free, my daughter?”
The last one is from Rihanna, “I could never identify with that word - - - weak.”
