My family comes from a small island in the Caribbean, where the racial hierarchies and the legacies of colonialism and slavery were very alive. My grandparents had black maids that lived in their homes—a small step above slaves, for they were actually “free” and “paid.” They lived in a white neighborhood that was maintained and manicured by black hands. White privilege pumped through their veins just like blood—every moment unnoticed but such an integral part of the way life works.

I chose to study international relations when I came to college because I’d always had a love for other cultures. I was especially drawn to Sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East.

But studying the interactions between and within countries can be disheartening. It was in college that I really learned about colonialism—how the arrogance and greed of the white man has had woeful consequences even almost two hundred years later—and about modern imperialism.

I developed a kind of self-hatred for being white—the same race as the very people that ruined entire countries and the lives of the people within those countries. I was appalled and moreover ashamed that my race of people could have no sense of justice.

This was my initial reaction to recognizing that I am a race. Before college, I had never considered myself to be a race. I had never been lumped into a people group, rather I was seen as, and taught that I was, an individual first.

Studying global affairs requires the study of other cultures, other ethnicities, other races. It requires that you take a moment to stop and recognize your own role in the world and your own people group, what it comprises and who holds the power in it. My experience with international studies showed me that I was The Bad Guy since I was affiliated with the white West.

I started feeling hatred toward my own race, and it didn’t feel good. I wanted to remove myself, turn my skin inside out, do anything I could to disassociate myself with whiteness. The color became, for me, the archetype of evil.

I’ve moved past that feeling, but it has taken a while. I still have remnants of animosity toward white people who—knowingly or not—take full advantage of their White Privilege. But I have to remember that a vast majority doesn’t fully understand the hidden workings of the system. That kind of knowledge is not yet mainstream.

The feeling of shame that I have had for the color of my skin is disappearing because everywhere around me there are white people who do understand the system, who do believe in social justice and equality, and who do want to do what it takes to turn those values into reality. There are even those white Americans that don’t really understand that people of color are systemically marginalized but would do something about it if they did.

The beauty of race is that it is merely a social construct. Humanity, however, is something altogether different. It is for humanity that we fight for social justice—not for a race of people. Certainly we must recognize the implications of race as they can become barriers to justice and equality, but race does not ever bar us from breaking down those barriers. If anything, it can make us that much more of a force against them.    
 
I feel like I’m getting a quick minor in social justice this semester as I do my pre-work for Teach for America. I have been inundated with information, anecdotes and statistics about poverty and racism in this country. Everything I’ve read has watered the seeds of justice in me enough to force them to crack open the shells and sprout buds. I have been reminded, in each of my daily readings, to be mindful and aware of the realities of the world—the ones we tend to sweep under the rug because they have become as mundane as dust or dirt. I have been forced to quietly reflect on how my own identity has been shaped by the racial and other social dynamics at play in this country.

Like most white Americans, I never had to think about the color of my skin growing up.

I shamefully remember feeling utterly annoyed by a good friend of mine in my high school class that mentioned how black Americans are systemically marginalized. I rolled my eyes, turned up my nose and scoffed, “Black people? Are you kidding me? They’re poor because they don’t work hard enough. Women are the ones that are marginalized!”

Why did I consider women but not people of color to be marginalized? Because as a woman, I am constantly having to compete with, defend myself against and compare myself to the established “norm”: white males. As a white woman, however, I shared at least one of the characteristics of the dominant group: white skin. And so I have a share of the power scheme. The color of my skin has ensured that I am part of the American norm, and therefore it has never needed to be brought to my attention.

That boy in my class was, obviously, worlds ahead of me developmentally. He had clearly done some reading outside of school to learn about the reality of the American system. (They don’t teach you that stuff in school.)

While I was no doubt right that women in American face misogyny and discrimination every day, it is impossible to pretend that race does not also garner abject discrimination of the worst kind.

Criminal injustice, achievement gaps in education, and socioeconomic disparities in the U.S. all share a common denominator: ethnic and racial discrimination. But since the Civil Rights movement has passed, the issue of racism has been habitually swept under the rug by nearly every American that doesn’t explicitly experience it.

Take me, for instance, in my high school years: I was completely unaware that systemic discrimination of people of color still happened.

More than anything, I blame the education system, which has a bad habit of dancing around reality. (Consider what you learned about the treatment of African Americans, Asian Americans, Native Americans, Latin Americans and immigrant populations throughout history. Rest assured, you didn’t learn the whole story.)

The lie that keeps the cycles of disparity and inequality alive in this country is the one we’re taught from our first days in school: we live in a meritocratic society in which people who put in the work and effort will succeed.

It’s not true. For white people, this notion merely reinforces negative stereotypes of people of color and of the poor in general. For people of color and the poor, this idea informs them that they are to blame for their own marginalization. Also not true.

None of this means that being white is a bad thing. It means that we have a responsibility to lift up the rug and shake it out. See what has been swept under it. Acknowledge that the color of our skin means something. It can mean that we continue to benefit from an inherently racist system and maintain power that way; or it can mean that we become vehement anti-racists and use our power that way.

For a nation that proudly claims to stand for justice, liberty and equality—the fundamental tenets of our civic culture—I think the duty of white Americans and the choice we face is obvious.

 
This is the year that I graduate—the year that I can walk away from the university I’ve spent four year at with a diploma in my hand. With a piece of paper that will be the ticket to the gates of my dreams and goals. And then, immediately, I’ll be using it to get classfuls of other people’s children on the same track to get their tickets to their dreams. This is a big year. It will be the last time I step into a classroom as a student (at least for a while) and the first time I walked into one as a teacher.

I’ve been reading a book about leadership in the form of teaching and being a teacher. I have a lot of work to do in preparation for this role that I’ll be taking on—the role that I’ve been waiting to fulfill for years now. The trajectory of my students lives will be in my hands. No, it already is in my hands. The preparatory work is just as important as the actual time in my classroom. And that preparation begins now. Today. This moment.

That’s why, this year, my resolutions for the new year are of critical importance. They aren’t just for me—they’re for all the children I’ll be working for for the next two years of my life. My new years resolutions are to make me better for them. They are at the heart of everything now—my every action, my every daily and monthly goal. Everything comes back to those children, my children. Never have the stakes been so high, so real. The only thing I’ve been striving for have been good grades and a promising resume.

From now on, I’m striving to change the lives of actual people—directly. The challenge is daunting—terrifying, really. But it’s doable. I’m scared, but I’m eager. I’m nervous, but I’m excited. The mixture of emotions is already stressful, but it will be well worth it.

This is the list of my new years resolutions—they are ambitious but feasible, and they reflect the very kind of goals that I plan to set for my students in the coming two years. These goals are my practice and are meant to get me into the mindset of setting goals and working to achieve them and doing everything I can to ensure that I do. The art of self-motivation and perseverance are vital to being an effective teacher. If I want my students to be the kind of people that demonstrate these characteristics, I myself must be a paradigm for them to follow. This year is for them. Here are my thirteen goals for the thirteenth year of this millennium.


1.   I will run in the Oklahoma City Memorial Half-Marathon on Sunday, April 28, 2013. To do this, I will begin training the first week of January, following the half-marathon training schedule I’ve created. I will make time in my daily routines to work out for the necessary time, and I will track my progress each week. By April 28, I will have trained for the sixteen weeks, and I will be ready to compete in the half-marathon race.

2.  I will make sure I am physically healthy this year because it is necessary to be physically healthy to maintain mental health. Therefore, in conjunction with my workout routine, I will eat well and cut back on my sugar intake. I will cook healthful meals for myself, take vitamins for my skin and immune system, I will drink at least 16 ounces of water every day (moving to 32 ounces by the end of the year), and I will take other necessary measures to look my best and feel my best physically.

3.  I will continue to see my psychologist throughout the school year and work on dealing with my depression and other issues until I can effectively cope with them and resolve them when they come up. I will help myself by practicing introspection daily by writing or meditating. I will practice gratitude by writing in my journal regularly (at least 4-5 times per week) about the positive things in my life.

4.  I will work on my relationships with my family members, my friends and my boyfriend. I will work on expressing my gratitude, appreciation and love in a more tangible and consistent way. I will stop taking them for granted by having a negative attitude. And I will demonstrate acts of love by writing notes, sending cards, calling them, including them in my life more, and working through problems maturely and lovingly.

5.  I will finish my novel’s first draft all the way through and make edits on at least a third of the book by setting clear and definite milestones for each week and meeting each of them on time, wasting no time in the beginning or end.

6.  I will make straight As in my final semester and work to bring my GPA up to a 3.9. I will do this by investing myself into my school work, ensuring that I study enough to make As on all quizzes, exams and essays.

7.  I will graduate summa cum laude in May with two degrees and three majors. I will also graduate having won at least two scholarships and having been published in an undergraduate academic journal.

8.  I will make more connections with professors and strengthen the ones I already have in preparation for applying to graduate school after Teach for America.

9.  I will start researching and preparing for applying for graduate school and law school by talking to administrators in Career Services, studying for the GRE, and attending Pre-Law Club meetings.

10. I will update my blog on a weekly basis about quality education and education equality as I complete my pre-work for TFA Institute. I will follow education blogs on renowned news websites and do my own outside research to present on my blog and help me prepare for teaching in August. I will also continue blogging about my experience as a teacher-in-training and as a teacher during the school year.

11.  I will be financially responsible, not spending my money on things I don’t need or spending it when I can’t afford it. I will save as much as I can and update and maintain my financial spreadsheet every week so that I always know how much I have, how much I will have after bills, and how much I can afford to spend otherwise.

12. I will do twelve 30-day challenges that help me reach these goals or some specific goal. They will be thoughtful and will address my personal need or something I need to work on for that specific 30-day period.

13. I will be the best teacher I can possibly be and give my students everything I can to provide them with opportunities and give them the skills they need to make the most of them. I will work every day, knowing that I am working for them and that I can and will make a difference in their lives. I will treat them all with love and kindness and hold high expectations for each of them, doing everything I can in the meantime to ensure that they meet those expectations.