BIPOC and White Leaders Learning From Each Other
August 01, 2023
Appears in August 2023: School Administrator.
Leading equity and race work districtwide is hard and messy and differs from most other change initiatives
Imagine you are participating in a series of workshops with 24 superintendents and district administrators. Half are Black, Indigenous or people of color, or BIPOC, and the others are white. You have come together to talk honestly about race and racism, to learn with and from each other to become more effective leaders of equity.
The topic this day is challenging. You are addressing the way leaders across racial differences experience what Christine Saxman and Robin DiAngelo, in their work on antiracist culture, call the unwritten rules for how BIPOC are expected to give feedback to white people on racial matters. You review their list of 21 (White) Rules of Engagement, which describe things like the tone white people want BIPOC to use when delivering feedback (e.g., trust that I’m not racist; keep me safe).
Each school system leader is asked to mark on a shared document any “rules” seen or experienced personally. The tallies highlight stark differences by race, with BIPOC participants seeing or experiencing twice as many (105 to 53) rules as their white counterparts.
You discuss the disparities, then anonymously post the impact these have on you. BIPOC comments include:
I feel invalidated, unseen in my full humanity, trivialized.
Every action taken must revolve around what white people are comfortable with.
Being me is usually misinterpreted as angry, when what I am is passionate. I have to hide my feelings so that my white counterparts remain comfortable.
White school administrators write:
I overthink my interactions because I do not want to make a mistake or offend anyone. By worrying about a potential conflict, I am not as present or direct.
I consider myself a learner, but sometimes feel that if I don’t speak up then maybe no one will. It should not be the burden of my BIPOC colleagues to be the speakers on issues of race, but I also end up qualifying anything that I do say.
As a group, you discuss the insights gleaned from this exercise about leading for equity in education.
A Cross-Racial Approach
This workshop was one of eight in a series the Massachusetts Association of School Superintendents asked us to facilitate in 2021-22. The statewide association considered setting up a white superintendent network like one described in the March 2021 School Administrator “Confronting Racism Together,” but superintendent Darcy Fernandes, a co-planner of MASS’s Race Equity Diversity Inclusion initiative, objected strongly, saying “We are not going to do that kind of professional development for white superintendents and not include superintendents of color.” In partnership with Fernandes and co-planner Karla Baehr, we developed this series.
We met monthly for two hours on Zoom, mostly as a full group of 24, with about half of the sessions deliberately split into racial affinity groupings where white and BIPOC leaders could separately process their own perceptions, work on their racial identity development and learn without anyone feeling blamed or shamed. The series focused on two questions:
Who is responsible for leading a school district’s equity work and what roles can be played best by BIPOC and by white district leaders?
What skills and understandings about themselves and their systems do leaders need to develop?
Cross-Racial Learning
For BIPOC participants, two points emerged: They need shared and visible ownership of equity by white leaders (and associated coverage and support) and validation that their experiences of inequity are real. They described high rates of frustration and burnout when asked to lead deep cultural change around equity without the authority, support and respect of white leaders in their districts.
BIPOC often were asked to fix everything related to equity, extinguishing fires caused by anything cultural including racial slurs, complaints and missteps with individual education plans. Many felt they were on their own, with little or no coverage from their white superintendents (and for BIPOC superintendents in the group, from their mostly white school boards).
When defining coverage, participants shared these requests: ”Position me to be impactful by providing legitimacy to the equity role,” “Have difficult conversations with other district leaders about the importance of my role” and “See me as competent and partner with me as such.”
BIPOC leaders shared common experiences about the lack of recognition of the racial aggressions they routinely faced. “Why,” one wondered, “do many white superintendents seem to not understand these issues? Is it willful ignorance? How can they not see what is happening to us/me here?”
The need for coverage for BIPOC leaders highlights that equity work differs from other change initiatives. Many school communities and white leaders think equity work can only be successfully owned by people of color, even though the opposite is true. BIPOC leaders need true partnerships but have trouble finding them because many white superintendents who have skillfully led district improvement efforts in non-race-related areas become so unsure of themselves around work that they describe feeling “like deer in headlights.” White participants said they often deferred to BIPOC leaders — whom they saw as having more expertise — to take on much of the work involving diversity, equity and inclusion. Furthermore, they were not sure how or were unwilling to provide coverage and support when working with other white stakeholders.
Part of this hesitancy was because many participating superintendents had little knowledge and exposure to BIPOC and their experiences in schools and society. Raised in mostly white communities like the ones they often led, many had little contact with people of color as friends or education peers. In current relationships with BIPOC students, families and educators, many were authority figures who had not yet created enough trust for BIPOC to want to take the risks of speaking truth to their power. Some superintendents didn’t know how to, but others may not have wanted to. Truly taking in BIPOC perspectives might have disrupted their world view, shown them that they may have internalized more racism than they could stand and/or required them to develop skills and courage to take on institutional racism.
Moving Forward
For many white and BIPOC participants, the workshop series was the first opportunity to have honest discussions across racial lines with peers about equity. They learned a great deal (as did we) about how to define and develop joint ownership of equity and how to do personal work on their own biases and triggers and use cross-racial spaces to build foundational knowledge and common, specific definitions of what “ownership” means in each setting.
Key learnings for whites included recognizing their power and privilege through white identity work. It meant owning the responsibility to lead this work and to not leave BIPOC leaders unsupported in taking on equity’s deep cultural changes. On this point, one superintendent said: “This is my work to do as a white woman in leadership. I cannot relegate this work to a DEI specialist, guest speaker or hired partner. Being silent and listening to the experience of BIPOC colleagues is required for my own learning, but using my voice to create the urgency and conditions for this work to happen in my district is needed. Academic excellence and social and emotional learning are equity work.”
In addition to healing and guided learning on combating felt aggression, BIPOC leaders got insight into tactical tools to drive equity change such as frameworks to identify equity in academic instruction and roadmaps for pacing. Empathy for cross-collaboration in the work also increased, particularly around what BIPOC described as “willful ignorance.” Said one participant: “It was tough, but completely understandable, to hear that my white colleagues sometimes don’t speak for fear of saying the wrong thing. We can’t promote this work in a cancel culture.” Another added: “There are white folks that are also passionate about this work and want change as much as I do. As they shared about their own challenges, I was able to understand better why some people don’t respond as quickly as I’d like. It’s not that they don’t believe in the work. It’s that they are dealing with their own personal challenges doing the work.”
Our own lessons address both content — needs for roadmaps, frameworks, cases and other teaching tools — and process — the power of building affinity and cross-racial containers. These lessons helped us work with colleagues from across Massachusetts during the past year to run a series of three day-long, in-person sessions to provide common language and experiences, five months of Zoom networking to provide customized paths for in-depth work and a capstone learning fair for 130 district leaders.
This is hard and messy work, yet doable. With commitments to shared ownership and to engaging in needed personal and system learning, school district leaders can develop schools where all students can learn at high levels, feel included, appreciate their own and other cultures, understand racism and work to dismantle it. n
Darnisa Amante-Jackson who is based in in Syracuse, N.Y., is CEO of The Disruptive Equity Education Project. Lee Teitel, founding director of a diversity and equity leadership project at the Harvard Graduate School of Education in Cambridge, Mass., is an education consultant.
By Aaron L. Polansky
In her book We Want to Do More Than Survive, Bettina Love discusses the difference between being an ally and being a co-conspirator through a story about Bree Newsome, a person of color, and James Tyson, who is white. They didn’t know each other when they decided to take down a Confederate flag from a pole in South Carolina.
Newsome began to climb the flag pole, knowing her act would likely bring police to the scene. When officers intervened to force Newsome down, they prepared to fire their tasers at the pole. Tyson intervened by putting his hand on the pole because he knew the police would not use tasers with a healthy white man at risk. Tyson willingly took that risk. He used his whiteness as a protective act.
To me, this story says there is power in our voice and a distinct message sent by silence. It can be scary to speak up, but imagine being in a place where nobody has the courage or willingness to speak on your behalf. We must find ways to articulate our core values, use our voice and create communities of belonging. This was the call to action that resonated with me upon hearing the message from Bettina Love.
Eye-Opening Experiences
In an interview with C-SPAN, Newsome stated: “To be a co-conspirator is to take a risk for others and put something on the line. This is not limited to race.”
I saw her interview as part of my work with Lee Teitel, founding director of a diversity and equity leadership project at the Harvard Graduate School of Education in Cambridge, Mass., and Darnisa Amante-Jackson, CEO of The Disruptive Equity Education Project in Syracuse, N.Y. It was one of the many ways my eyes were opened by participating in the network for superintendents on racial equity training. They gave me courage. The conversations they enabled with others were thought-provoking. They evoked empathy and emotion. They led me to find a “deeper why” to drive my daily work. The cohort of learners inspired me to see the world from an expanded perspective and to lead from my core in a way that stands for action. Passive anti-racism is not an option.
For years, we have asked three questions in our school district that drive our decision making: Is it kind? Is it honest? Will it improve the situation?
The first two questions are relatively easy to articulate and defend. The last can be tricky when we’re setting parameters for students. But we must be clear. It does not ask, “Will it improve my situation?” It’s time that we replace the word “my” with a more explicit and inclusive “our” (collective) and consider the power of our togetherness. We have an obligation to ensure that every student, staff member and human being who walks through our doors feels valued, heard and safe — and, most importantly, a sense of belonging.
Impactful Incident
As we made our way through the racial equity work, Almi Abeyta, superintendent of Chelsea, Mass., Public Schools, and I had the opportunity to join Teitel and Amante-Jackson at the 2023 AASA national conference to share our experience. At one point, Abeyta indicated she was organizing affinity groups in her significantly larger district. This made me think about the potential of recreating this opportunity in our small racially homogenous district by partnering with neighboring small schools to create a bigger network for our BIPOC teachers. Abeyta’s work was inspiring.
While planning the conference presentation, I was faced with an incident that began with an e-mail from a parent who saw a social media post about a classroom lesson where a pride flag and Black Lives Matter logo were displayed in the background of a photo. The parent asked at what point we started allowing political flags to be displayed in our classroom. I inadvertently derailed one of our planning meetings to ask for advice. Admittedly, despite my desire to “grab the pole,” I wondered if it was best to respond or simply ignore the e-mail.
Upon asking the question, I realized I still had work to do. It was a moment of vulnerability rewarded by significant growth that would impact the core of who I could be as a leader and who we could be as a school district. Amante-Jackson and Teitel gently helped me to decide how to address the correspondence. In that moment, I realized the power of this journey.
We cannot not stay silent in the face of hate. To my colleagues and to our future leaders, please join me. It’s time we grab the pole, with the level of frequency required to ensure that love always wins.
Aaron Polansky is superintendent-director of Old Colony Regional Vocational Technical High School in Rochester, Mass., and author of Beyond Us. Twitter: @aaronpolansky
By Almudena G. Abeyta
My superintendency started two months before the pandemic hit. Then I had to lead my new community through the aftermath of the George Floyd murder. At a school committee meeting in June 2020, many teachers expressed serious concerns about the district’s inability to retain teachers of color.
As I listened to the voices of our teachers during the public comment session, I knew something had to change. But how would I, a Latina superintendent, bring about this change? Those public comments were a call to action for me. A few months later, I contracted consultants to provide training to our leaders and teachers about culturally responsive teaching. I created an equity office and hired our first diversity, inclusion and excellence officer. We were moving forward with our equity work with urgency.
In fall 2021, I learned about the launch of a program by the Massachusetts Association of School Superintendents to pilot a superintendents’ leadership practice network for superintendents or cabinet-level leaders who were leading their school districts’ anti-racism work. I read the announcement and said to myself, “Sign me up!”
Support Network
Up front, we were informed the network would be divided into two affinity groups, one for leaders of color facilitated by Darnisa Amante-Jackson and the other for white leaders facilitated by Lee Teitel. Each affinity group had a slightly different focus and structure given that some challenges of anti-racism leadership differ between leaders of color and white leaders.
I welcomed this space as a leader of color because I carry such a burden to bring about change for my school district. Our monthly meetings allowed me to learn with my peers. I realized I was not the only person going through tough times. The affinity group became my support network, a place where I felt safe and I belonged.
During one session, Amante-Jackson shared a roadmap that revolutionized my approach to this work and gave me permission to slow down. This work takes time. You have to go slow to go fast. I was able to take a breath and give myself permission to stay in the belonging phase as outlined in The Creating an Intentional Culture Framework.
Based on this experience, I encouraged our equity, diversity and excellence officer to provide affinity spaces for our educators of color. We subsequently held our first Educators of Color convening. It was a special time for educators across our 6,200-student district to meet each other. One educator commented tearily how special this was for him. After being in our school system for years, he never had seen so many educators of color in one space. It was an emotional gathering for him.
At this gathering, we announced we would facilitate affinity groups if the staff expressed interest, which they did. Given the expressed interest, we will start with affinity groups in 2023-24.
As a result of my own learning in an affinity space, this work now has been extended to our teachers and staff. Had I not experienced the power of affinity groups for myself, I doubt we would have formed affinity groups for our educators so quickly. I am grateful for this time of learning in my professional life and excited to share it with others as we create a culture of belonging.
Almudena G. Abeyta is superintendent of Chelsea Public Schools in Chelsea, Mass. Twitter: @almiabeyta
When the Massachusetts Association of School Superintendents asked us to design an equity-focused workshop series for 12 white superintendents and 12 BIPOC central-office leaders, we knew we would have to create multiple “containers” to support their learning. Descriptions of inequity and technical learning alone won’t shift mindsets and practices, regardless of race.
From our work with Ronald Heifetz’s Adaptive Leadership framework, we knew we needed to create spaces to facilitate the necessary deep personal, cultural and systemic change.
We decided on three different containers. Two would be “affinity spaces” — intentionally created for people who share a specific identity such as race, gender or role — to enable conversations that promote learning with increased relational trust and safety. The other container would be deliberately cross-affinity, so people with different life experiences (in this case relating to race and racism) could talk honestly and learn from one another.
Varying Affinities
The three containers had common elements, like norms and agreements, readings and reflective writing exercises. There also were specific differences.
The white affinity space used Layla Saad’s Me and White Supremacy to provide a structured introduction to white fragility, white silence and more. The book’s reflective prompts sparked discussions that helped participants explore their fears and hesitancy on taking real ownership of DEI work.
In the BIPOC space, participants found refuge, healing, validation and support as well as frameworks and pacing roadmaps for building systemic equity. Leaders focused on key skills, cultural strategies and pacing using the Diversity, Belonging, Inclusion and Equity Spectrum, a tool developed in 2017 by Amante-Jackson. With no common published text, participants used this curriculum, which draws on the use of narratives/communication, best-practice strategies for equity and a hybrid of adaptive leadership and adult developmental change theories.
Cross-affinity space was the place to share different perspectives on things like the “21 (White) Rules of Engagement,” referred to in the main article or a case about DEI ownership where a Black deputy superintendent was hired in a predominantly white district. Although he made clear he was not an expert in DEI, when George Floyd was killed, the white superintendent turned to the deputy and insisted he lead the district’s response. We used racially mixed small groups and whole group discussions, as well as Jamboards and Google Docs where participants could post anonymously in ways that tracked racial identification.
Messy Work
The mix and sequencing of affinity and cross-affinity sessions was deliberate and recursive, which allowed participants to enter affinity space to absorb and integrate the implications of the “rules” discussion or to prepare to discuss the case.
This approach promoted shared learning on the personal and systemic impact of inequity, highlighting how the credibility of participants or the expectations of them for owning equity work varied significantly based on their race and identity. It also proved a powerful way to help participants through the messy personal work of developing as leaders and partners in pursuing equity.
— Lee Teitel and Darnisa Amante-Jackson
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