For several months, I have been meeting with a small group of like-minded parents.
We hesitate to call ourselves an advocacy group. This group just knows there is important work ahead and want to step forward. We hope to amplify an urgent message that to many feels underrated and overlooked by our local school board.
Just last year, the Ontario Human Rights Commission (OHRC) declared systemic anti-Black racism a “crisis” in Ontario schools.
Not a problem or issue a crisis – and we shouldn’t breeze past that purposefully chosen term.
A crisis signifies a time of intense difficulty and danger. It is a time that demands crucial decisions.
The crisis of anti-Black racism in our school system didn’t emerge overnight; it’s rooted in years of reports that identified systemic barriers impacting Black student achievement within Ontario’s education system.
With the social justice uprising in 2020, the issue of anti-Black racism rose into the global spotlight. Many necessary conversations were had. But now conversations have quieted. Yet, the crisis of anti-Black racism in Ontario schools persists — with little substantive change for Black students.
Black communities are feeling the weight of this public education crisis. The group of parents I meet with feel a responsibility to ensure that the urgency this wording was meant to inspire is not forgotten now that the 2020 spotlight has dimmed.
After a time of gathering, discussing, and preparing our group applied to speak to our school board. We hoped to reinvigorate conversations and make it known that parents still expect to see real and sustainable change for Black students.
Parents still expect to see real and sustainable change for Black students.
After concluding my allotted 10 minutes to speak, I opened the floor to questions. The audience was composed of the highest leaders in our humble school board. One leader spoke up, thanking me for my presentation and characterizing my appearance as ‘brave’. She then inquired about my hopes for the future — and what success looked like to me.
Initially, I was taken aback by the weight of the word ‘brave’. Yet, I understood where the question was coming from.
Discussions about race and racism can be fraught with tension and risk. Many individuals face genuine threats to their careers, mental well-being, and personal safety for daring to speak their truth and challenge oppressive systems.
I don’t take these risks lightly.
At that moment, I attempted to answer the question. Yet, after a few weeks of contemplation, I know that this is my response.
Dear school leaders,
When we last met, my appearance before your school board was characterized as brave. I struggled with being called brave for speaking out on the crisis of anti-Black racism in our education system.
Though I understand where you’re coming from, I do not feel particularly brave.
This is an institution which is very used to being led by folks who look a certain way, so some feel threatened and are fearful of change. But their fear doesn’t make me brave.
Part of me feels that if I accept the label of brave, I implicitly acknowledge that there is something I should be fearful of. As though the equity I’m advocating for is a favour and not a human right.
Some might call me brave because of the fear they know exists in this room around this conversation. This is an institution which is very used to being led by folks who look a certain way. And I acknowledge some feel threatened and are fearful of change. But their fear doesn’t make me brave.
If we continue to frame these conversations as an act of bravery or difficult, fewer will come forward. And if I do fear anything it’s that things will remain unchanged – as folks will think this is as good as it gets.
I also don’t feel brave because the longer I stay in advocacy work, I know it is not bravery that propels me forward. Instead, it’s a simmering fury that borders on rage. I tend to be more Audre Lorde than bell hooks – embracing my anger as a driving force for change.
I have good reason to be angry.
For the 20-plus years her children were in the education system my mother did not get a rest from ensuring that educator’s low ass expectations, cultural stereotypes, invalidations and maligning of her children didn’t limit our future
I speak to this board 30 years after witnessing my mother’s relentless battles through her children’s education. There were several times that I remember seeing her race home early from work. She would change clothes and race back out again.
She fought the ignorance of teachers who claimed they couldn’t understand my older sister’s “thick Jamaican accent” – which I assure you she did not have.
Years later my mother showed up to defend me when my teacher accused me of cheating because my reading level exceeded their expectations for someone “new to the country”. Please note, I was born here.
In what I can only imagine felt like déjà vu for my mother, a decade later these folks accused my sister of cheating in her reading assessment by memorizing pages. Even after she (just as I had done years before) read full pages from a random novel of their choosing.
I didn’t even bother to tell my mother when my eighth-grade teacher told me that “people like me” did better with “hands-on work” and directed me to enrol in “general-level” high school courses. Luckily, by that time I knew better than to trust this teacher’s assessment of my potential.
Spoiler alert – as my achievement of Ontario scholar status every year of high school and my university degree attests – people “like me” did just fine in the Academic-stream courses necessary for post-secondary education.
While we have the research, heightened awareness and pleas to do something – the experiences of Black children in our system have changed so little that as a parent, I am forced to follow the well-worn path of generations before me.
For the 20-plus years her children were in the education system my mother did not get a rest. She worked to ensure that educators’ low expectations, cultural stereotypes, invalidations and maligning of her children didn’t limit our futures.
My mother is not unique. There is this prevailing myth that Black parents are not involved. Yet Black families have been on the front line of a battle against systemic racism for generations.
From segregation to academic streaming. Whether it’s parents having one-to-one conversations with teachers or community organizations like Parents of Black Children helping drive board-challenging legal action – Black parents have been there to drive and demand change.
And now, I am here because, after generations of these battles, I still do not have the privilege of just sending my kids to school.
In my experiences with my own children, it turns out that too little has changed since my time in school.
Despite the anti-racism work of generations before me – and my own advocacy, showing up and vigilance, history seemed to repeat itself when my son’s eighth-grade teacher assured me that with his “great personality,” he could get a job that didn’t need a degree. She passionately advocated that I should be “open to him taking non-academic stream courses”.
Insert my aggressive eye-roll here.
The experiences of Black children in our system have changed so little that as a parent, I am forced to follow the well-worn path of generations before me.
I am never more angry than when I contemplate the possibility that my children – that the next generation of Black parents – might have to stand where I am standing and beg for the humanity of my grandchildren to be respected.
I am forced to be here. Again. Still.
I am forced to be on my toes and recognize Niceness from Nonsense to ensure my child isn’t streamed below his potential.
My husband and I have to be vigilant and Ask the Right Questions at Parent Teacher Interviews.
Like other Black parents, we equip our children to stay psychologically bulletproof against the stream of microaggressions to outright Criminalization and Racial Violence.
So yes I come here more out of anger than bravery. And I am never more angry than when I contemplate the possibility that my children – that the next generation of Black parents – might have to stand where I am standing and beg for the humanity of my grandchildren to be respected.
I know that whatever it costs me, I just don’t have the privilege of silence.
While to many of us, it seems that our school boards have just begun to talk about anti-Black racism – loud voices on the sidelines of our school boards continue to gaslight its existence.
I see this questioning for what it is, a feeble effort on the part of the anti-Woke folks to undermine and invalidate the historic and present-day institutional racism in our education system.
That said, for different reasons entirely, I admit to finding myself asking the same question.
I too am confused about why we are still talking about race.
Still. Just. Talking.
And barely doing a good job at that.
For those of us stuck in periphery boards steadfastly entrenched in the status quo – even the smallest steps taken in other boards seem like quantum leaps.
Even when they called out this crisis, OHRC laid out recommendations. They outlined necessary changes school leaders could make to combat the crisis of anti-Black racism. Yet in so many school boards few if any of those recommendations have been brought to life.
Other neighbouring boards have actively and aggressively moved ahead with adopting at least some recommendations. In certain boards, they have created a compendium of recommendations that outline their actions to drive systemic changes.
Admittedly, in these boards – such as the Peel District School Board and even the Toronto District School Board – Human Rights complaints and lawsuits sometimes created the real burning platform for change. But whatever the catalyst, the outcomes paint a stark difference between boards.
No board is perfect. The issue of anti-Black racism remains a crisis that will take generations to work our way out of. But for those of us stuck in periphery boards, like mine – which are steadfastly entrenched in the status quo – even the smallest steps taken in other boards seem like quantum leaps.
While we watch others take meaningful steps, my school board remains stagnant. We are expected to be content with token gestures that barely scratch the surface of the crisis at hand.
Yet parents in this board pay no less taxes to be rewarded with this level of mediocrity.
This is a burden we’ve carried for too long – but the real tragedy is the position this puts our Black students in.
In our board, like several others in Ontario School Boards, Black students will go through all K-12 years and never have an educator who looks like them at the front of the room. These school boards seem content with their failure to address the Diversity Gap and there is no cost of failure for them.
Further in many boards, the vital link between data and accountability remains tragically weak.
Despite provincial government mandates, in these boards data collection on Black student experiences or outcomes lags far behind. Moreover, many lack the expertise to review data through an anti-racism lens, leaving marginalized students unheard and their struggles invisible.
As an example, in this board, Black students are told to use an anonymous reporting tool to raise their concerns. However, there is no centralized oversight, school principals gather complaints. So complaints risk dismissal by principals who have little time and yet unchecked power and responsibility to vet these issues.
While professional development is offered, there is often little data available to demonstrate the percentage of folks who take this. And with so few in boards holding anti-racism expertise, there is little hope that even those who take training can ensure learning is actually applied.
Of course, there is the problem that in too many boards, like mine, it is only hope and promise that drives action – rather than actionable policy and accountability.
The herculean effort to address these equity issues falls disproportionately on the shoulders of a few. Black teachers, BIPOC educators, parents of Black children, and co-conspirator community members commit their support.
And yes, this is a burden we’ve carried for too long – but the real tragedy is the position this puts our Black students in.
Barriers, othering and the undercurrent of anti-Black racism students experience in our board is pushing them to a breaking point.
Everything I experienced as a student only scratches the surface of the examples of microaggressions, microinvalidations, and streaming that plagued me and continue to limit the potential of Black students in this education system.
Plus, I was lucky, I was neurotypical and cis-gendered, with two parents in the home. I was never food insecure; I didn’t struggle with mental health issues. Layering on any of the other complexities we now know exist in the lives and identities of Black students, could have meant a different outcome.
Barriers, othering and the undercurrent of anti-Black racism students experience in our board is pushing them to a breaking point.
A student who is at this breaking point spoke up as I presented to this board.
A Black student trustee shared her experience challenging anti-Black racism in her school. She sought help from a teacher regarding concerns raised by fellow students, only to be brushed off. Sje was instructed to handle the situation alone.
This accomplished student leader broke down in tears as she explained that she felt she had let her students down. She felt she had not done enough because they were still facing the same problems.
The Auntie in me wanted to hug her.
In that room, few truly grasp the crushing weight of enduring anti-Black racism while simultaneously fighting it. I intimately understand that exhaustion. Having experienced it as a student, a parent, and an advocate, I recognize the toll it takes.
No student, no child should bear this burden. I am angry that far too many of our Black youth suffer silently under its weight.
In that room, few truly grasp the crushing weight of enduring anti-Black racism while simultaneously fighting it. I intimately understand that exhaustion. Having experienced it as a student, a parent, and an advocate, I recognize the toll it takes.
So, you asked what does success look like.
Well, first – success looks like me not having to keep coming back here. Success looks like Black parents having the privilege of rest.
A critical point of getting there is building a teaching staff that reflects the diversity of our school communities. Black educators shouldn’t be anomalies but essential support and inspiration for every child.
I imagine a curriculum that honours Black history in a learning environment that weaves the complexity of our contributions into lessons.
Most important are our students. I see a daily reality of Black students feeling safe, valued, and empowered.
Success looks like Black students having the privilege of safety and an equitable opportunity to succeed in our education system.
Success looks like Black students having the privilege of safety and an equitable opportunity to succeed in our education system.
Even as I say these words, I hear the argument of those who push back. I am often told that change cannot happen “overnight”. That schools lack the resources and the provincial support to make real change.
To those folks I say this: in a crisis you must expect to make forward-thinking, sustainable and equity-minded change overnight. I am not expecting you to wave a wand and fix things like our diversity gap.
But overnight change that leads us in that direction looks like this board taking the simple step of acknowledging that the crisis of anti-Black racism exists. It looks like committing in writing to doing the work to address anti-Black racism.
Overnight change might look like working with the community and staff to identify the areas we clearly lag behind and see what steps other boards have taken to meaningfully address them.
We all know we need more Black educators in this board – they play an undeniably important role in Black student success.
Overnight change looks like reviewing our policy to ensure it includes specific language around the need to hire Black educators. It may mean adding accountability measures to help us live up to this commitment. It might mean mandating exit interviews with Black educators leaving the board and using that insight along with any existing data to understand their concerns.
Overnight change is calling a meeting with key players on staff and in unions – possibly even your provincial leaders – to understand the roadblocks caused by collective agreements, seniority rules, the teacher shortage and financial cuts to education.
What will it take to address Anti-Black racism in schools?
I anticipate I’ll get pushback that “things are happening”. Or face the criticism that I’ve made change sound simple.
But I’d argue that for too long this school board has made change sound impossible.
Mandela wasn’t wrong – it always seems impossible until it’s done.
After watching 2020, seeing the mandates by the province, watching our students break down in tears, the real question is for my board:
What do you think it will it take to address Anti-Black racism in schools? And are you willing to do it?
I know this, achieving success demands a fundamental shift in mindset from this board. We must recognize that an “anything is enough” approach is no longer sufficient. In this crisis, we must be willing to overhaul our approach and make collective efforts to address systemic anti-Black racism head-on.
Black students shouldn’t endure a perpetual crisis because adults in the room are fearful. Our students deserve better. They certainly deserve no less than their counterparts attending neighbouring school boards.
If my words fail to inspire immediate action, I hope the voice of our student leader serves as a poignant reminder that this crisis is real.
Students feel the impact of anti-black racism daily. Our board is creating an educational environment that is breaking our students rather than helping them achieve their full potential and each of us shares accountability for that.
Success for Black students is not an elusive dream—it’s an achievable reality that requires our daily commitment.
The real question is what will it take to address Anti-Black racism in schools and is this board willing to measure up to our expectations?
