The Prison of I
Episode 3 from the Educational Equity Emancipation podcast.
(This transcript has been edited for clarity and readability.)
Image: Adobe Stock
Welcome, welcome, equity warriors, old and new. Thanks so much for joining me today.
You know, the other day, I read something. And it stuck with me. And I just couldn't wait to share it with you. So this actually is kind of a long quote, so bear with me. But Toni Morrison wrote this and it says,
Our past is bleak. Our future dim. But I am not unreasonable. A reasonable man adjusts to his environment. An unreasonable man does not. All progress, therefore, depends on the unreasonable man. I prefer not to adjust to my environment. I refuse the prison of "I" and choose the open spaces of "we."
And that so resonated with me, I read it again, and again, and again. And it's just that part, you know? All of it sounds fantastic, but the part about "the prison of 'I,'" really made me think about the behaviors that we have to work through and master when we're talking about equity.
And hopefully, by now, you've gone to the website 3epodcast.com. And you've downloaded the free gift. If you didn't, you need to because this is the first part of that free gift. And so we're going to talk about this today, even though you may not have done the work yet.
So if you haven't done the work, you can go back and check on it. Because I would love for us to take this journey together. Right? So there are the first three checkpoints as we take that journey, as we're talking about how we master these conversations about equity. Right? How we get ourselves together is really that first highway that we travel on. And those first three checkpoints are about
- working on ourselves,
- mastering our story, and then
- focusing on those things that are in our own span of control.
And when we do those things…
I thought about that quote. And I thought about those checkpoints on the highway. This is the part about escaping our own prisons of I. And journeying then into those open spaces of we where we can have those conversations about equity.
So before I close today, I want to give you enough on these three tools to help you begin to escape your own prison of I. And I'm going to do this by sharing with you my own story and how I escaped my prison of I.
So working on myself first, right? I had, I have, a lot of work to do. Just in overcoming my own fears, the own oppressions that I have, based on things that I had been told about myself by other people who assumed that they had power over me all my life.
Things like saying that I wasn't smart enough, or I wasn't strong enough, or I didn't have the right aesthetic, right? The way that I looked wasn't quite right for them. Or I didn't have the right background. And maybe I didn't have the right family connections, or the - I don't know, the right… I don't want to say genetics, but… come from the right lineage, so to speak.
So learning who I really was? Right? What was my real story? I had to go back. And if you know me, you know. I'm gonna research, and I'm gonna go way back. So I went back through my ancestry to really be empowered by learning who I really was and developed my story about who I am.
And it begins as far back as I could go: with my fourth great-grandfather, whose name was Poo Too. And he was of the Igbo people of West Africa. So my fourth great grandfather is (right now, because I'm not done), he is the only ancestor, or the first ancestor that I've found, who survived the transatlantic passage in the belly of a slave ship.
The history that I've been able to find, the story that has been recorded, was that he fathered scores of children for this family that "owned" (because that legally was what they did, then) a family that owned him in North Carolina.
“...the power in that knowledge is that for him to have been used as a breeder, he had to be one hell of a strong, striking, good-looking man!” ”
So I was somewhere between annoyed and shocked. But then I thought, “Because we know this is what happened in those times, the power in that knowledge is that for him to have been used as a breeder, he had to be one hell of a strong, striking, good-looking man!”
Because when we breed something, we only want the best characteristics. Right?
So then, empowered by that, I'm thinking about that strength that runs through my veins, that makes me strong, and makes me desirable. And maybe even makes me attractive - since some people said I didn't have the "right aesthetic." Right?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Further down that family tree, my grandparents and great-grandparents were sharecroppers in Arkansas. Strong, hardworking people. And in spite of everything that was levied against them, they managed to come to own their own land.
And one day, when I was working as a manager, sales manager for an educational publishing company, I was working in Jackson, Mississippi one day and I had to drive to Little Rock, Arkansas. Well, my family is from Little Rock. Well, the greater Little Rock area, I should say. None of them really were from Little Rock. But outside this small town called Fordyce is a teeny tiny town that you can hardly find on a map. It's not on most maps. I knew that's where my family's homestead was - on my mother's side.
So I went there. Took a little detour on my drive from Jackson to Little Rock. And I found the church. There's only one church because this town literally is a post office on a highway and then one road. And everything else is a dirt road. But on that church, on the cornerstone of that church that was built in 1907, on land that was settled by my second great grandfather, is a cornerstone that has multiple members of my family on it.
And I thought that was cool. That land is land that we settled, that we built up. A church that we built more than 100 years ago. And that brought me pride and strength and learning who I am and the type of people I come from.
And then in the next generation, just to go to my parents. My mom and dad, both veterans, Army and Navy, served this country with honor. Again, something else that makes me who I am. And that makes me proud of who I am.
I thought about my own childhood and being a trauma survivor. Having seen my father shot to death when I was seven. About being raised by a single black woman in the turbulence of the 1970s. But having the shoulders of those ancestors to stand on and having just a handful of teachers, most of whom I can still name today, teachers who saw more in me than I saw in myself.
And then there were those in the majority who saw little in me or didn't care to see anything at all. Saw a little black girl.
I proved the doubters wrong and hopefully have brought honor to all of those who believed in me.
So I made it through elementary school, junior high school, and high school. Graduated at the top… I think it was number three in my class. I did okay. Right?
In spite of everything else, this is my story.
And I went on to be accepted at my number one choice of school: the University of California Davis. Go Aggies! And graduated. Graduated. Not just accepted, but graduated.
After that, I got multiple credentials. I got my master's. I got my teaching credentials. Two teaching credentials, a master's degree, and a doctorate.
In spite of an admissions committee that told me I didn't even have the grades for a teacher prep program.
Screw them! Screw them! I say to myself now:
I am the fourth great-granddaughter of Poo Too! Surviving and overcoming are in my blood! This is what I do!
So those who tried to build a prison for me, a prison for my thoughts, my learning, my successes, all of them have failed. Because I've survived. And I'm successful. Because once I set my mind to something, I'm gonna make it happen.
My father, well, I only had him for seven years of my life. So much of what he said to me. I can still hear.
I remember one day, sitting in his white El Camino with a black vinyl roof out in front of our house on Center Street. He said to me, that little… excuse me, that "big things come in little packages." Now, if you've not met me, if I stand up really tall, I'm a flat foot five feet. Not very big.
But I know from who I am and what others say about me and the history of my people. I am a very friendly person. I'm smart, innovative, enterprising, and adaptable. Sensitive. Yeah, every once in a while, I still do cry at Hallmark commercials and in movies. I'm always optimistic. I work hard. I don't cheat. I don't cheat myself. I don't cheat other people.
And while some people may call it arrogance, I know my work. And I could care less what other people say about me.
Some people have said I was a born leader. Other people call that arrogance as well. So when I think about all of those things, those attributes, where I am, and what I know about myself, it stands to reason that as a sixth-grade teacher, once upon a time, I got on a bit of a soapbox.
Not me! Me? Get on a soapbox? Imagine that.
But we weren't doing everything we could to support our learners. All of my children. When I taught sixth grade, all of my children were children of color. All of my children. Well, except for one year, one student, and I wrote about that child in my book, Effecting Change. Once I had one that was not of color, but all of my children qualified for free lunch. And in this meeting, there was an instructional specialist who I always sorta thought really didn't care about our kids. But in the midst of my,We need to do more. They need more time. We need more resources! diatribe. I don't know; advocacy, I think, might be a better word. She looked at me and said,
"I don't know why you care so much. It's just another generation of toilet scrubbers."
Toilet scrubbers. Thank God for the friend sitting next to me, who grabbed my arm and got this death grip on my arm, because I think I was about to leap over the table and strangle her. And [my friend] said, "Wouldn't be a good idea for your kids to see you in a fight at school."
But that was like my fork in the road moment. That is when I first really understood, although I could not name it at the time.
I couldn't wrap my arms around it. But that is when I felt and began to reckon with the impact and entrenchment of systemic oppression.
My fork in the road. That moment when I could no longer continue to suffer in a system with so-called leadership that didn't give a rat's spit about the children! And I knew that I could do more for kids. And more for more kids than the 25 in my classroom.
That moment is what changed my life.
So, as you begin your journey… As you begin down the highway and you go to those first three checkpoints, think about your prison of I. And how will you escape it? And start doing that work on you?
What is it that you need to overcome to become an equity warrior who fears no challenge?
What's your story?
See, each of us has to learn our story and master it so that we know our worth; so that we can share our stories and connect with others; so that we can support or challenge them as we take on that role of an equity warrior.
And then always join me every week. Send me your questions, topics, and request to AskDrBerry.com, and I will answer those questions. And I'll bring you experts to help address those topics. And always remember:
Let's not worry about the things we can't change. Let's change the things we can no longer accept.
I'll see you next time.
