All Heart

I wrote this Facebook status in response to Ron Clark talking about how fearful he was of one of his students becoming the next hashtag.

I have been thinking this same first statement throughout the day.

I also read somewhere today that white people who do not comment don't care. I am one of those people who have not commented. I have not commented for a myriad of reasons, but none of them have nothing to do with not caring.

Mainly I am at a loss. I have no idea what to say because words really can't do anything. I have no idea what actions to take. I'm not political. I'm not an activist. What I am is a teacher. That is where I try to do my part.

I tell my kids every year on the first day of the semester that I will probably not be the best social studies teacher they will have, but most of that they can look up in a book. However, after 90 days when they leave my room I want them to be better thinkers and better people.

And over the 32 semesters I have stood in front of a classroom full of teenagers my life has been touched by young people of all different races, socioeconomic backgrounds, sexual orientation, and cultures. Each of them has taught me something. Some things I can name to you off the top of my head. Others are lessons I probably still don't know they've taught me. Because yes, they have taught me as many lessons as I have taught them.

The thought of any of them having to fear for their lives scares me so badly. As a woman, I have the tiniest bit of that fear. When the Stanford rape case was all over social media it made me feel a way none of these other things did or have. Why? Because I could easily identify with the victim.

I have been to my fair share of fraternity parties, and I remember sometimes being just a little uneasy or more aware of my surroundings because while I knew most of the guys there, I was well aware that I could easily be in a situation that could lead to awful things happening. I don't know if most people knew it at the time, but that is one of the reasons I didn't drink at these parties. I knew I needed to be alert. If I wasn't who knew what could happen.

I still feel the same way when strange men approach me in a store or on the street. My defenses go up. I become aware of my surroundings and escape routes. I worry about my girls going out now and facing these things.

The struggle black men go through when a family friend, a young, kind-hearted, intelligent, well-educated, professional black man was pulled over on the street for some made up reason of suspicion and after containing himself well during the interrogation was left in tears, humiliated on the side of the road after the police left. When I think of this guy I love like a little brother being treated like this, a father, a son, a doctor, a ray of sunshine in a dark, dark world, it makes me so angry I want to hit people. And I have taught young black men who could be interchangeable in these headlines, and when I think of them being the hashtag it is frightening.

When The Pulse shooting happened I thought of all my students, my friends, my family, who could have been in a similar establishment and have their life ended enjoying themselves on a weekend night. It made me sick to my stomach.

No, I haven't been silent because I don't care. I have been silent because I honestly don't know what to say, but I do know there is a problem. Some of it is ugly hearts. Some of it is institutional. Some of it is ignorance and denial, and some is fear.

That is why we need to open up and see the people we know and love in these stories. I was having a conversation with some friends the other day about the fact that when the story moves out the media and becomes human by involving someone you know and love, it changes the way you think.

I also read a great article that said something to the effect that when those who have been persecuted begin to be treated equally, it can feel like persecution to those who have been in the majority. This scares people. People don't want to see the ugly stuff in themselves. It makes us uncomfortable, but we all have it.

In the Broadway musical Avenue Q, there is an awesome song called, "We're all a little bit racist."  the whole show is done with puppets, so they can talk about a lot of things that may be too uncomfortable if real people were doing it. The song is so awesome because it is so true.

We are all going to have biases and issues we have to deal with, but the key is to deal with them. We all need to interact with a diverse population. Take the labels off and put the human heart in its place. When you get to the heart, none of is are really that different.