Just as (Weenie 2008) expressed her love and passion for the sweat lodge and the dance ceremonies of the colononialized, through a recitation of a poem, I, too, have chosen a symbolic piece in which to convey my thoughts and passion for alternative stories as well as marking my place of knowing. My contemplative and painful journey has taken me back to my ancestry. Moreover, it (my journey) has allowed me the opportunity to hear lost stories, to see treasured memorabilia, as well as to gain greater appreciation for my pedigree. Moreover, like (Weenie, 2008) the historical knowledge and understanding of my cultures’ struggle for equality has given me new-found self awareness that has had an overwhelmingly positive effect on my epistemological approach to research. Thus, the purpose of this brief exert is to share a personal, insightful, and historical narrative that segregation, integration, and assimilation has attempted to eliminate.
I begin my historical reflection with a poem by, well known poet, Langston Hughes. His poem, “I, too” symbolizes the fact that African Americans and the so-called “Other” desired a place of notoriety and acknowledgement. Next, I recapture moments from a travel study curriculum whereby I along with my student’s was allowed to “collectively witness” the untold stories about our African American heritage. These reflections are merely to relay to you (the researcher) the accounts of a people who, through a tireless effort of resistance to the dominate culture, was able to keep alive a story almost forgotten. These memories, though powerfully painful, reflect the resilience of a marginalized people and of a movement for social justice that, still today, deserves our attention.
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well, And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--
I, too, am America.
Langston Hughes (Collection of Poems, 1994)
A Contrary Spirit: “Incorporating a New Narrative into an old Curriculum”
“It made me consider how Aboriginal educators can be incorporating more cultural concepts in their work as a way of reversing the effects of being marginalized.”
(Weenie 2008 p.554)
It was a horrible Sunday morning, on March1965, in Selma, Alabama. A host white policemen, mounted on fifteen hundred pound horses, with their tear gas canisters, whips, clubs, and guns in-hand, waited at the foot of the Pettis Bridge. Bull Connor, the crooked and openly racist Dallas County Sherriff, using a bull horn, told a group of “Freedom Marchers” to go back home and to discontinue the march. Not being denied, the “Freedom Marchers” stood their ground. As a matter of fact, these unsung heroes knelt to pray for their openly racist oppressors. It was not long after they prayed that “all hell began to break loose.”
Tear gas canisters began to explode. Gun shots rang through the air. Fifteen hundred pound horses, startled by the tear gas canisters exploding, ran uncontrollably through the crowd, trampling people with their magnificent hooves. With tear gas burning their eyes and lungs, the peaceful marchers ran hysterically back across the Pettis Bridge. Hundreds of them were wounded. Many of them were hospitalized. Several of the marchers died and many were left marred, psychologically, physically and emotionally, by the terrible cracks of the whips, and the thump of the Billy clubs, against their skulls. It was a horrible Sunday. Not only that, but it was a “Bloody Sunday.”
The aforementioned narrative was shared with me during a spring 2008 visit to Selma, Alabama. African American, civil rights activist, Joanne Bland shared openly her story of oppression and fight for social justice, as she led me on a tour through the dilapidated streets of Selma. She exposed me to some of the historic buildings and monumental sites. As we walked through the (now) silent and peaceful town of Selma, she began to open the “library of her heart.” Joanne knew all about the historic black churches and their role in the Civil Rights movement. She also knew about the monumental march across the Pettis Bridge. With tears in her eyes and passion in her voice, she vividly described that day in history. She said, “It was a bloody day; it was Bloody Sunday.”
She proceeded by informing me of all of the prominent leaders who invaded Selma, in 1965 in order to march for equal voting rights for blacks as well as other marginalized populations. She branded in my mind the images of Dr. Martin Luther King, Congressman John Lewis, and former Atlanta Mayor Andrew Young, as they all march up the Pettis Bridge, only to be beaten back across. I was floored by such detail, so after she stopped her story, I asked Joanne this question. “When you are gone, who will tell your story?”
She looked at me, with those tear-filled eyes, and said, “You will!” I will never forget the tremble in her voice and the sincerity of her heart as she charged me with the continuation of this magnificent history. I immediately felt a huge burden come over me. I began to question my impact and my ability to inform other colonialized persons’ of the prominent heritage, from whence they came. Also, how could I, a person who is a benefactor and not a participator of “Bloody Sunday” carry this message effectively?
According to (Wennie, 2008), in order to decolonialize curriculum, an individual must be willing to “sort out” or understand things in dominate culture that alienate others, particularly the English language. Instead of posing barriers, the English language should be used as a basis of understanding. Not only that, but it is important that researchers, professors, and educators continue to consider ways of incorporating more cultural concepts in their work as a way of reversing the effects of being marginalized.
This act of alternative storytelling can easily be done, if educators are willing to create the space, time, and the environment for a “pedagogy of discomfort” to occur. Citing (Zembylas & Vrasidas 2005) “pedagogy of discomfort requires individuals to step outside their comfort zones and to recognize what and how they have been taught to see or not to see.” In other words, developing a curriculum that is inclusive to others will take an intentional effort to shift ones’ thinking as well as to be willing to admit ones’ shortsightedness and narrow worldviews.
In closing, this is my own perspective on how I think educators can incorporate other stories into curriculum. There are many more alterative stories and different perspectives that have both challenged and forced me to see things differently. Just as the brief exert from Joanne’s narrative (about her struggle for civil rights) challenged me, I too, will challenge others to tell a different (their) story. Perhaps it will make me uncomfortable or it could possibly make me ashamed. Whatever the outcome, whether comfortable or not, I must continue to create room, space, and time to hear and contemplate the stories of others.
Johnny Smith
Cohort 16