Yesterday, I came across a blog entry entitled "10 Conversations on Racism I'm Sick of Having with White people."
The link to this blog entry is as follows: http://www.peopleofcolororganize.com/opinion/10-conversations-racism-im-sick-having-white-people/
This entry definitely resonated with me on many levels not only as someone who has formally facilitated dialogues on race and ethnicity between White people and people of color, but as someone who has had to deal with these 10 conversations incessantly in the last decade of my life.
I posted this to my Facebook yesterday because of this connection I felt to it. Within minutes, a friend of color had reposted the link. It was something I understood; specifically, I understand why this friend would repost. Today, I noticed that some other Facebook friends had reposted it, but these reposts were different. These friends were White friends on Facebook. My immediate reactions differed from the reaction I had to my friend of color of reposting.
My reaction to these White Facebook friends was negative. This negative reaction, however, was mitigated by who was reposting and the experiences I have had with them that implicate race. For those whose intentions I trust more, my reaction was less negative. I might even call the reaction slightly positive in these cases. But for those who I do not trust or in whom my trust is low because of negative experiences with race, the post felt like smug salt on the wounds of bad experiences.
Broadly, I believe there are two sources of my reaction:
(1) To me, the feeling and the substance of this blog entry seem to be for people of color who can relate. These are conversations that many people of color endure. It is also important to note that these are conversations that look differently depending on the racial group from which the person of color comes. [In my experiences, White progressives who are trying to challenge racism will often seek education from the racial minority they perceive as having it "the worst"--that is, African Americans. This comes from experiences of White friends latching on to what my African American friends say about racism.]
(2) I am concerned with the message a simple reposting sends. What exactly does it mean?
Does it mean:
(a) that you are a White person who "gets it"
(b) that you are trying to educate your other White friends on Facebook
(c) that you are trying to be an ally to people of color who both generally and specifically your Facebook friends
(e) all, some, or none of the above
I am less worried about (b) if it stands alone, but if it is coupled with (a), then I become worried. I become worried especially when the person reposting does not really "get it" in my opinion. I become worried when the person has a lot more work to do on racism, both currently and in how they have perpetuated racist dynamics within organizations/activities in which I used to participate. If it is just (c), then I suggest some caution. Reposting this without saying more can be very patronizing. I need to know more from you and what you think and how you react to this. As a White person, what does this entry actually mean to you and for you?
I can understand that there are good intentions in reposting this post. I affirm those intentions and believe that reposting is not the issue. It is the context within which such reposting occurs.
Overall, my argument is to be cautious with the messages that might be sent with a repost. I can see people reacting and thinking "it's just a repost" and that because of this, "it's not a big deal." Of course, it's just a repost. Nonetheless, our actions carry meaning in this racialized social system that is the United States. Caution must be exercised by my White friends so as to not give the impression that they are appropriating the words and experiences of people of color again. This impression would not be without support. I see this blog entry as something created for people of color to resonate with on many levels and I reposted it because it is something with which I can fundamentally connect. I cannot be comfortable seeing my White friends repost this without them giving something more tangible--without writing how they react to it and what it means. I think it is this transparency that can challenge the unintended impressions of their actions.
-Just thinking
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Middle-Class Stare: An Application of Feminism to Classism
One concept that originates from [White] feminism is the idea of the 'male gaze.' The male gaze is fundamentally about power relations between men and women (it is worth noting that the concept exists within a binary system that links, if not conflates, gender and sex). The power relations are asymmetrical, with power residing in the Male who gazes at the Female. 'Male' and 'Female' here are abstracted to a broader sociological sense. In a patriarchal society, the Male figure is imbued with power in relation to the Female. The Male gaze has primarily been understood in terms of sexual objectification. Men objectify the bodies of women (bodies understood have an 'alignment' of gender and sex).
Although the male gaze is an abstract term in its formal sense, the male gaze is enacted at the local level wherever power is exercised. This is because 'power' and 'to be powerful' are constructed as synonymous with what it means to be masculine. Rather than speak about the male gaze in general terms, I will provide personal examples. In several places where I have worked, I have observed the male gaze. In these instance, men speak at women. Their eyes are fixed on her in anticipation of her response, yet their reaction indicates that the response is interpreted as comical. It is obvious to me that the interaction is asymmetrical. There are sexual undertones implicit in the interactions. The interaction depends upon the heterosexual masculine male perceiving the other as a heterosexual feminine female.
What I want to extract from the concept of the male gaze is the idea of asymmetrical power relations. I believe that this is a core component of the 'male gaze' concept that translates to other systems of privilege and oppression that are of personal relevance.
The system on which I will focus is classism. Classism is the institutional, cultural, and individual set of practices and beliefs that assign differential value to people according to their socio-economic class. Its existence depends upon an economic system that creates excessive inequality and causes basic human needs to go unmet. These inequalities allow for the upward and downward referencing that underlies the ascription of differential value to people based on socioeconomic differences. Because I am from a low socioeconomic status, I have lived the experience of negative value ascription based on my class.
In applying the concept of the male gaze to classism, I will use my personal experiences of my class as local enactments of what I call the "middle-class stare." Upper-middle class and middle-class are collapsed into the term "middle-class" for purposes of simplicity. The 'middle-class stare' refers to power asymmetries in relations between classes. The Middle-Class is situated in a position of social, political, and interpersonal power in relation to the Lower-Class. Rather than being enacted via objectification arising from libidinal drives as with the Male gaze, the Middle-Class stare is about disgust directed downward. The Middle-Class knows that it has access to resources, even if only slightly more, to which the Lower-class has very limited or no access. This knowledge arises through interaction and understanding of differences in resource attainment and possession. In other words, the Middle Class knows it is situated higher because it has more than the Lower Class.
I understand that one reaction to the concept of Middle Class Stare is the following proposition: you just cannot really tell who is from what class. I will have to respectfully disagree with this interpretation of class relations. For one, it is grounded in a lack of awareness about class privilege. Class privilege is not merely about having access to more material resources. It is about having access to social capital, such as modes of dress, taste, vernacular, etc. Although someone from the Lower Class can acquire more material possessions and try to approximate the modes of Middle Class social capital, class differences remain. Knowledge of being from the Lower Class is the force that drives such a person from the Lower Class to attain Middle Class standards. Many in the Middle Class do not experience this by virtue of their class. Although they may drop to a lower class materially, the social capital from being in the Middle Class remains whether or not it is materially fulfilled.
My second response to the initial proposition is to question who the "you" is. Speaking from my experiences as someone who is from a low socioeconomic status, I know when I am interacting with someone who is from the middle class and someone who is from the lower class. I infer class status from the behaviors I observe, the goals that people set for themselves, and the material possessions they have. This is an allusion to the notion that identities can become embodied in us. Another way in which I infer class is through topics of conversation. When people talk about their family vacations, trips, going shopping, buying new clothing, going out for meals, etc., I infer their class status. For me, the "you" in the statement above is someone who is from the Middle-Class.
When a society is set up to serve that someone's Middle Class interests, it may seem like one cannot tell which class people are from. Yet, socioeconomic segregation is just as prevalent as racial segregation. Middle-class people can live comfortably in middle-class neighborhoods, attend middle-class schools, pursue middle-class higher education, and obtain middle-class employment. There is no need to see class differences when most people surrounding you are middle-class. But when someone from a different class appears, the difference is stark. The Middle-Class Stare makes its debut.
What motivates me to write this piece is what I have called the "Middle Class Stare." It is a stare of which I am often the object. I did not consciously witness the Stare until high school when I began attending a predominantly middle-class school. In my childhood, my cognitive abilities prevented me from understanding what class was and how it impacted my life. I could not abstract from my individuals experiences. I could not question my circumstances and critique the widespread class stratification within the United States. My class figured into my cognitive development; I was not socialized to be intellectually curious by parents and extended family. I have read a number of research studies that attest to the strategies that parents with college education utilize to elicit intellectual development within their children. The stories of my middle-class peers provide me with anecdotal evidence for the existence of these strategies.
What were my childhood experiences of class? For one, my parents were working-class when they actually worked. My father held menial jobs occasionally, but a car accident that killed my paternal grandfather and seriously injured my father limited his ability to work. My mother worked seasonal employment, which meant that she received unemployment when the job ended for the summer. We received food stamps and perhaps monthly cash assistance (I am not too sure about this though). I knew that my parents did not have as much money as my aunts and uncles. Because of a strong extended family network, my sisters and I were able to get by with our family's low socioeconomic status. Secondly, as a child and even now, my family has never lived in a house that we own. We have lived in several mobile trailers and rental property, but never a house we can say is ours. When we moved to Michigan from Florida, we lived in a one room shack on a farm field for a summer. These experiences signify differences in wealth (one dimension of socioeconomic status). Property is an asset that demonstrates one's wealth. Not owning housing property is a significant indicator of being low-class. Thirdly, my sisters and I were not expected to go to college. If my parents had received college educations, this reality would not even be intelligible to me. The effects of this lack of an expectation to attend college emerged over the course of the past four years. One of my sisters did not go onto college after high school. My middle sister dropped out of high school and is pursuing her GED. My youngest sister has grades too low for a four-year college. Each of my sisters desires to attend a community college. My educational trajectory marks me as an exception within my family and within my socioeconomic status. Not many people who are lower class will receive an education from the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor and Yale Law School. Fourthly, my sisters and I have never received adequate dental or health treatment. I have begun to experience the severe effects of this lack of treatment in my adult life.
Living in Grand Rapids, MI exposed me to new realities of class differences. Zoning laws and policies, lending practices, and the regime of credit scores create and reproduce socioeconomic segregation. I witnessed and lived within this segregation in Grand Rapids. I lived in the poorest areas of my city. When my mother became a single mother and I began to attend a middle-class high school, the limitations that my class placed on me became more visible. I could not afford to go on school field trips. I could not afford simple hair cuts (fortunately for me, my mother had a friend who was a hairdresser). I could not afford to buy meals when my high school Forensics team competed on weekends. My mother could not buy me new clothing until major holidays. Toward the latter part of my high school years, we would again receive government assistance when my mother became unemployed. I never learned how to drive because I could not afford the training class. I am thankful that there was food for meals; however, I also remember how my mother would get anxious if we ate too much of the food we had. Eating more food meant having less food at some point later on and needing money to buy more food--money that was not there. I worked a job during my junior year of high school in order to provide myself with what my mother could not afford.
Knowledge of my class status was not solely in my purview. My peers in my middle-class high school knew that I was different from them. I received taunts about my clothing from several of my peers. I was told I was too 'small' by another peer. I was not in the circle of 'popular' people, all of whom had at least one parent with a college education, came to school with new clothing regularly, wore expensive colognes, drove cars, had spare money to spend, etc. The Middle-Class Stare was a central feature of my high school experience.
I witness the Middle-Class stare nearly everyday at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor. I have ingrained in my mind the fact that roughly 12% of students at UM-Ann Arbor come from families that make less than $45,000 per year. Although the marker of $45,000 seems high relative to the income of my single mother, I recognize myself as part of the 12% on this campus.The average family income at UM is $200,000. I can only imagine what my mother could do with ten times her current income. I see the implications of the average UM income on a daily basis. The clothing, the tastes, the resources, the topics of discussion, the ambitions, and the life experiences of the majority of my peers are Middle Class. Receiving an education with middle-class peers benefits me in the sense that I can know how to act around middle-class people. However, this experience has intimately etched into my consciousness that I am lower class.
I am lower class whenever a friend of mine comments on how "good" or "nice" my clothing is "today." They have probably already seen me wear this shirt of those pants or those shoes before. This is no compliment to me; it is a reminder of my class status. On a similar note, I am reminded of my class status whenever someone asks whether or not my clothing is "new." I am reminded about my class status whenever a friend looks directly at my clothing before engaging in conversation with me. I am lower class whenever I think about what I could get with the money I spend at a given moment. I am not talking about financial planning. I am talking about what spending X amount of dollars might meant that I have to give up in the future. The Middle-Class Stare permeates my experiences at UM and will surely permeate my coming experiences at Yale Law School.
Given the path unfolding before me, it may seem that I am on a path that will lead me toward what I have criticized. Explicitly stated, the proposition is that I may enact the 'Middle Class Stare.' There are several ways I can approach this proposition. First, I could agree that I will enact the 'Middle Class Stare' at some point in the future. I react in two ways to this possibility. In one sense, I fear that this possibility may actualize. Thus, I tell myself to remember who I am and where I come from no matter where I end up. In another sense, I think agreeing with the possibility precludes the notion that our class of origin becomes embodied in us and our actions. It tells me that class is more fluid than what my life experiences have shown me. Given my life experiences, I cannot subscribe to a position that dilutes the truth of my experiences. This a point where various readers and I may depart.
Secondly, I could disagree with the proposition that I will enact the 'Middle Class Stare.' It one that I actually believe. My reactions to this possibility are twofold. For one, I have enacted what might be called the 'Middle Class Stare' several times throughout my life. The talk, behavior, and apparel of other people have repulsed me. However, this repulsion is not something I learned from my class. Exposure to middle class interests and attitudes taught me to be repulsed. Thus, I believe a distinction should be made between the 'Middle Class Stare' proper and the effects of middle class interests and attitudes. Other literature on social injustice recognizes what I describe here with the term collusion. Collusion is when a member of an oppressed group actively supports their oppression. The repulsion I describe is an example of class-based collusion. Another reaction to the possibility that I will not enact the 'Middle Class Stare' is that I cannot enact the Stare because of my lower class origins. I will carry these origins with me throughout my life. I see a possible danger in this reaction. It may essentialize class differences. It might suggest that class becomes fixed within me and does not recognize the dynamism of life experiences. However, I think this danger is averted when the possibility of not enacting the Stare is approached differently. I can approach it with the perspective that, even if my immediate class changes over time, the class that defines me is the class of my origin. My class of origin has provided me with the beginning experiences of my life (some twenty-one years). These experiences will serve as something to which I react throughout of my life, whether for good or for bad. If I collude in the oppression of the Lower Class, it is because I remember the numerous experiences of frustration within my class of origin. If I hate the class to which I rise, it is because I know the frustration I have experienced as lower class. My experience of socialization in the Lower Class will serve as a cognitive prism that filters my experiences in the future. By approaching the possibility that I will not enact the Stare in this manner, I have recognized the dynamism of changing life experiences. This is the possibility I believe will be realized.
What were my childhood experiences of class? For one, my parents were working-class when they actually worked. My father held menial jobs occasionally, but a car accident that killed my paternal grandfather and seriously injured my father limited his ability to work. My mother worked seasonal employment, which meant that she received unemployment when the job ended for the summer. We received food stamps and perhaps monthly cash assistance (I am not too sure about this though). I knew that my parents did not have as much money as my aunts and uncles. Because of a strong extended family network, my sisters and I were able to get by with our family's low socioeconomic status. Secondly, as a child and even now, my family has never lived in a house that we own. We have lived in several mobile trailers and rental property, but never a house we can say is ours. When we moved to Michigan from Florida, we lived in a one room shack on a farm field for a summer. These experiences signify differences in wealth (one dimension of socioeconomic status). Property is an asset that demonstrates one's wealth. Not owning housing property is a significant indicator of being low-class. Thirdly, my sisters and I were not expected to go to college. If my parents had received college educations, this reality would not even be intelligible to me. The effects of this lack of an expectation to attend college emerged over the course of the past four years. One of my sisters did not go onto college after high school. My middle sister dropped out of high school and is pursuing her GED. My youngest sister has grades too low for a four-year college. Each of my sisters desires to attend a community college. My educational trajectory marks me as an exception within my family and within my socioeconomic status. Not many people who are lower class will receive an education from the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor and Yale Law School. Fourthly, my sisters and I have never received adequate dental or health treatment. I have begun to experience the severe effects of this lack of treatment in my adult life.
Living in Grand Rapids, MI exposed me to new realities of class differences. Zoning laws and policies, lending practices, and the regime of credit scores create and reproduce socioeconomic segregation. I witnessed and lived within this segregation in Grand Rapids. I lived in the poorest areas of my city. When my mother became a single mother and I began to attend a middle-class high school, the limitations that my class placed on me became more visible. I could not afford to go on school field trips. I could not afford simple hair cuts (fortunately for me, my mother had a friend who was a hairdresser). I could not afford to buy meals when my high school Forensics team competed on weekends. My mother could not buy me new clothing until major holidays. Toward the latter part of my high school years, we would again receive government assistance when my mother became unemployed. I never learned how to drive because I could not afford the training class. I am thankful that there was food for meals; however, I also remember how my mother would get anxious if we ate too much of the food we had. Eating more food meant having less food at some point later on and needing money to buy more food--money that was not there. I worked a job during my junior year of high school in order to provide myself with what my mother could not afford.
Knowledge of my class status was not solely in my purview. My peers in my middle-class high school knew that I was different from them. I received taunts about my clothing from several of my peers. I was told I was too 'small' by another peer. I was not in the circle of 'popular' people, all of whom had at least one parent with a college education, came to school with new clothing regularly, wore expensive colognes, drove cars, had spare money to spend, etc. The Middle-Class Stare was a central feature of my high school experience.
I witness the Middle-Class stare nearly everyday at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor. I have ingrained in my mind the fact that roughly 12% of students at UM-Ann Arbor come from families that make less than $45,000 per year. Although the marker of $45,000 seems high relative to the income of my single mother, I recognize myself as part of the 12% on this campus.The average family income at UM is $200,000. I can only imagine what my mother could do with ten times her current income. I see the implications of the average UM income on a daily basis. The clothing, the tastes, the resources, the topics of discussion, the ambitions, and the life experiences of the majority of my peers are Middle Class. Receiving an education with middle-class peers benefits me in the sense that I can know how to act around middle-class people. However, this experience has intimately etched into my consciousness that I am lower class.
I am lower class whenever a friend of mine comments on how "good" or "nice" my clothing is "today." They have probably already seen me wear this shirt of those pants or those shoes before. This is no compliment to me; it is a reminder of my class status. On a similar note, I am reminded of my class status whenever someone asks whether or not my clothing is "new." I am reminded about my class status whenever a friend looks directly at my clothing before engaging in conversation with me. I am lower class whenever I think about what I could get with the money I spend at a given moment. I am not talking about financial planning. I am talking about what spending X amount of dollars might meant that I have to give up in the future. The Middle-Class Stare permeates my experiences at UM and will surely permeate my coming experiences at Yale Law School.
Given the path unfolding before me, it may seem that I am on a path that will lead me toward what I have criticized. Explicitly stated, the proposition is that I may enact the 'Middle Class Stare.' There are several ways I can approach this proposition. First, I could agree that I will enact the 'Middle Class Stare' at some point in the future. I react in two ways to this possibility. In one sense, I fear that this possibility may actualize. Thus, I tell myself to remember who I am and where I come from no matter where I end up. In another sense, I think agreeing with the possibility precludes the notion that our class of origin becomes embodied in us and our actions. It tells me that class is more fluid than what my life experiences have shown me. Given my life experiences, I cannot subscribe to a position that dilutes the truth of my experiences. This a point where various readers and I may depart.
Secondly, I could disagree with the proposition that I will enact the 'Middle Class Stare.' It one that I actually believe. My reactions to this possibility are twofold. For one, I have enacted what might be called the 'Middle Class Stare' several times throughout my life. The talk, behavior, and apparel of other people have repulsed me. However, this repulsion is not something I learned from my class. Exposure to middle class interests and attitudes taught me to be repulsed. Thus, I believe a distinction should be made between the 'Middle Class Stare' proper and the effects of middle class interests and attitudes. Other literature on social injustice recognizes what I describe here with the term collusion. Collusion is when a member of an oppressed group actively supports their oppression. The repulsion I describe is an example of class-based collusion. Another reaction to the possibility that I will not enact the 'Middle Class Stare' is that I cannot enact the Stare because of my lower class origins. I will carry these origins with me throughout my life. I see a possible danger in this reaction. It may essentialize class differences. It might suggest that class becomes fixed within me and does not recognize the dynamism of life experiences. However, I think this danger is averted when the possibility of not enacting the Stare is approached differently. I can approach it with the perspective that, even if my immediate class changes over time, the class that defines me is the class of my origin. My class of origin has provided me with the beginning experiences of my life (some twenty-one years). These experiences will serve as something to which I react throughout of my life, whether for good or for bad. If I collude in the oppression of the Lower Class, it is because I remember the numerous experiences of frustration within my class of origin. If I hate the class to which I rise, it is because I know the frustration I have experienced as lower class. My experience of socialization in the Lower Class will serve as a cognitive prism that filters my experiences in the future. By approaching the possibility that I will not enact the Stare in this manner, I have recognized the dynamism of changing life experiences. This is the possibility I believe will be realized.
Before ending this blog entry, I want to highlight the element of power more explicitly. The Middle Class Stare arises because of power asymmetry in class relations. Being able to look down on a group of people--who cannot afford the resources you have, the education you have received, the modes and behaviors in which you have been socialized--represents the power and privilege you have from being the Middle Class. Those of us who are the objects of the Middle Class Stare experience what it means to be on the oppressive end of this power relation.
________________________________________________________
Note: my intention in writing this piece is to inspire a more critical consciousness in my readers. Because this piece is about people who are upper-middle class and middle class, it is likely that those in the position of one of these classes will feel some negative affect in reaction to this piece. I want to stress that such reactions are natural. What I have offered in this piece presents a challenge to people who have lived middle-class lives and/or who have engaged in the Middle-Class Stare. I encourage readers who find themselves in the position of being middle class to critically analyze their lives.
________________________________________________________
Note: my intention in writing this piece is to inspire a more critical consciousness in my readers. Because this piece is about people who are upper-middle class and middle class, it is likely that those in the position of one of these classes will feel some negative affect in reaction to this piece. I want to stress that such reactions are natural. What I have offered in this piece presents a challenge to people who have lived middle-class lives and/or who have engaged in the Middle-Class Stare. I encourage readers who find themselves in the position of being middle class to critically analyze their lives.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The "Gifted": Perspective on Race and Class
Recently, someone told me what they thought to be the greatest challenge facing low-income racial minority students in the writing process. The challenge, I was told, is a fear of writing. Specifically, low-income and racial minority students are afraid to write because they do not perceive themselves to be capable writers. I find this claim unsettling.
In responding to this claim, I want to focus on the intersection of low-income and racial minority identities, rather than treat them as separate identities. In particular, I think that the experiences that arise from this intersection undermine the claim that fear paralyzes low-income racial minority students' writing ability. My experiences are located at this intersection of race and socioeconomic status.
My high school was a predominantly White middle-class school. Many of the students came from neighborhood elementary schools located in White areas of Grand Rapids. These schools were feeder schools for my high school, a magnet school for "gifted" students. It was the only public school to which one applied for admission.
I did not attend one of the feeder schools. This was partially due to the fact that I did not live in Grand Rapids until I was 12 years old. It was also due to the fact that the elementary school I attended in Grand Rapids for the sixth grade did not share any information about my future high school with its students. I did not learn about my future high school until middle school.
A student had left the school to attend my middle school, Iroquois Middle School. It was then that I learned that the magnet school was for "smart" students. It was for the best students in the city. Because of my where I lived, I wanted to be one of those students. My schooling became a way to escape the treacherous circumstances of my neighborhood and family. In some way, I knew that my future high school would offer an atmosphere much different from the other public high schools in Grand Rapids. With the support of several teachers in my middle school, I was admitted to my magnet high school.
Indeed, the atmosphere was different. Whereas the schools I had attended from sixth to eighth grade in Grand Rapids were predominantly low-income racial minority schools, my high school was predominantly White and middle-class (as mentioned earlier). For the first time in my education, the mission of the school itself was to prepare all students for college. I distinguish this mission from the previous strategies teachers deployed at my middle school for individual student success. Certain students (i.e., the best and brightest) were prepared for college tracks rather than all students. In contrast, my high school wanted all of its students to attend college.
A student had left the school to attend my middle school, Iroquois Middle School. It was then that I learned that the magnet school was for "smart" students. It was for the best students in the city. Because of my where I lived, I wanted to be one of those students. My schooling became a way to escape the treacherous circumstances of my neighborhood and family. In some way, I knew that my future high school would offer an atmosphere much different from the other public high schools in Grand Rapids. With the support of several teachers in my middle school, I was admitted to my magnet high school.
Indeed, the atmosphere was different. Whereas the schools I had attended from sixth to eighth grade in Grand Rapids were predominantly low-income racial minority schools, my high school was predominantly White and middle-class (as mentioned earlier). For the first time in my education, the mission of the school itself was to prepare all students for college. I distinguish this mission from the previous strategies teachers deployed at my middle school for individual student success. Certain students (i.e., the best and brightest) were prepared for college tracks rather than all students. In contrast, my high school wanted all of its students to attend college.
One inescapable truth about my high school peers was that they had more resources than me. For one, many came from middle class families and had parents with college degrees. Having parents with college degrees a resource that Bourdieu might call "social capital." Many of my peers were socialized to think and to act in ways that would allow them to successfully navigate the academic environment of my high school. Being raised by a parents with more income, wealth, and education is correlated with higher cognitive capacities (Michael, 2003). This social capital did not need to be explicitly named to me. My experience as the son of a single-mother without a college degree and a father who dropped out of high school allowed me to sense the unspoken.
In addition to this social capital were material resources. Many of my peers had computers or immediate access to computers such that they were able to write extensively for writing assignments. I did not have a computer until I was 18. My ability to write school papers was more a proxy for how much time I had available to stay after school or stay at a public library (miles from my home) to write a paper. Because I did not have a floppy disk or a flash drive, the latter possibility was more so impossible. Thus, my ability to write papers in high school for classes was constrained by the number of hours my high school stayed open after the formal school day ended.
In addition to this social capital were material resources. Many of my peers had computers or immediate access to computers such that they were able to write extensively for writing assignments. I did not have a computer until I was 18. My ability to write school papers was more a proxy for how much time I had available to stay after school or stay at a public library (miles from my home) to write a paper. Because I did not have a floppy disk or a flash drive, the latter possibility was more so impossible. Thus, my ability to write papers in high school for classes was constrained by the number of hours my high school stayed open after the formal school day ended.
The returns of my lack of resources were low relative to my peers. On numerous assignments that teachers required to be typed, I could not imbue my writing with the same quality that my peers seemed to possess. The potential was there, but there were few resources to match it.
The relevance of race to this situation arose in the racial composition of my high school. As I discussed earlier, many of the students in my high school were White. In high school, I did not begin to realize how integral lack of resources were to determining my academic "achievement" (I question the individualistic notion of achievement) until the middle of my junior year. In the meantime, I recognized the differences in academic output of my peers and myself. Rather than perceive this from a lens of socioeconomic status, I perceived them from the lens of racial differences. In Grand Rapids, race implied socioeconomic status. In this sense, academic output became racialized and classed.
If there was fear in this scenario, it was not fear about my capability to write. It was fear about not having sufficient time to write good essays for my teachers. It was fear about not being able to access resources that would enable me to finish my papers.
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