we're all equal in heaven

there's a lot of racial tension at school. i'm not sure when anyone's going to address it. if we don't address it, it will eventually address us.

white privilege = when you're white you don't have to think too much about skin color. it's not always on your mind.

the truth is that lighter skinned people have more power in the world. still. that's the reality.

(unlike in heaven where we are all equal)

when we don't recognize our power, we hurt people by accident.

some of my students told me that there was laughter within groups of people that went to see the campus presentation called the "tunnel of oppression". there were horrific images in that presentation. images of abuse and starvation and horrible disease. sickening images. to me it's more sickening that people would laugh at them.

do they laugh because they're afraid? or maybe ignorant? obnoxious? cruel? cold hearted? ...?

i've been a substitute instructor for a week now in two classes. i'm covering for a woman who is on maternity leave. the morning class is a breeze, but the afternoon one is really pretty rowdy and challenging to manage. there are 72 students in it, and it's a pretty small room considering it's seating capacity.

it baffled me yesterday when a few of the students in the afternoon class giggled away while i was talking about little kid slaves in africa. (in ghana specifically. they're are sold to fisherman by their parents. they have to get up before dawn every day to cast nets into murky water, and then endanger their lives retrieving the nets when they get caught on debris. it's very very sad.)

these giggling students (white students incidently) just giggled away. i had no idea what they were laughing about. they carried on so much that i thought maybe my fly was down. i nervously giggled along with them for a minute. "what? what's so funny?" it didn't occur to me that anyone would find the little kid slave story humorous. but then i realized that they were indeed laughing about that, and i said "this is serious! it's not funny! what's funny about that?" no answer, just more semi-stifled giggling. "is it just the extreme nature of it, or what?" still nothing. "really, seriously, it's a HORRIBLE thing." i felt the tension mounting. i felt claustrophobic. i didn't trust my hormonal self. i felt ill... quakey... i promptly moved on.

an african american student came up after class to tell me that she was very disappointed that i was laughing about it with them. i did my best to defend myself. i was as flabbergasted about it as anyone, and even more so that she thought i thought it was funny. i finally said, with my voice giving way to tears, "i'm doing the best i can here." she made a b-line for the door at that point, (thank God) at which time i sank behind the computer station and cried for a few seconds. then i pulled myself together and called ken. (we only have one car so he has to pick me up). i was so incredibly relieved to learn that he was just outside the door. (thank God again)

i climbed in the back seat next to the shuggie and started telling the story. ken drove us home while i cried and carried on about it. shuggie held my hand and said "mommy's very sad. mommy's crying. don't cry mommy. it's ok. i'm here mommy." that was so sweet that it made me cry more. when we got home, i had a nice long cry. ken rubbed my shoulders and shug rubbed my arm. such loving support.

now i'm trying to decide what to do and say on thursday.