April, 2016 | Race, Class, and Gender

The Beginning

During our first class devoted to issues of race, we wrote reactions, feelings, and musings on sticky notes. While we wrote, Professor Kucinskas lined the wall with the sticky notes from years prior, providing the opportunity to see how other students felt about race. Though each piece of yellow paper held the thoughts of different people from different years and different backgrounds, the sentiments were the same. Race is hard. Race is scary. Race makes us uncomfortable.

This is a familiar song, one we’ve sung for decades (and will likely continue to sing). But why? Markus and Moya, in their book Doing Race: 21 Essays for the 21st Century, boil discomfort about race down to two factors: the view of race as a biological thing, and the assumption that the individual is the “source of all thought, feeling and action” (59). According to Markus and Moya, the idea that individuals may not themselves have the power to overcome racial barriers or remove themselves from racial associations similarly contributes to this discomfort.

These factors do play into the widespread unwillingness to address issues of race, but so too does fear of insult. When talking about race, we often tread upon eggshells. In doing so, words come protected, guarded, and therefore lose the ability to yield honest and meaningful conversations. This dynamic comes from the fact that racial differences stand rooted in long histories of hurt and abuse. For some, race is more than just an identity, but exists as a connection to other and to those who have come before.

The fear of insult comes also from the heightened push for political correctness. With attempts at full inclusivity and equality, humanitarian groups and social movements influence patterns of speech by constantly changing terms and labels, updating what is and what is not appropriate. The unintended effect, however, is that people fear using the incorrect term and therefore avoid discussion altogether (this is not only limited to race…a perfect example is sexuality, and how people struggle to know/remember the correct words for transgender individuals). There is an easy solution, though. We must create spaces where mistakes are allowed, where open discussions about difficult issues thrive and where, if a mistake is made, it is politely corrected so that everyone learns.

I firmly believe that hate speech comes largely from a place of fear. By signing up for “Race, Class, Gender,” we all took a step towards eliminating such intolerance and fear, creating the exact type of space where people can take risks, where they can speak and be heard. Unfortunately, the world is very different from our classroom. A mere glance at YikYak shows that our campus is even different from our classroom. We therefore all have an obligation to take this semester out of our notebooks and into the world, using what we have learned and discussed as fuel to fight the racist structures and sentiments around us. As educated and informed individuals made aware of prevalent systems of inequality, the charge falls on us. This class and the experiences we have shared will light our path forward, so together, let us now lead the way. The semester is ending, but our work is just beginning.

AmeriKKKa: Too Much to Bear

Injustice
It’s too much to bear
Wish i knew of none of this
Ignorance is bliss
Unfortunately, Eric Garner’s story will not be the last I hear.
White supremacy is too exhausting
I can barely breathe
I dont ever want to be screaming “I can’t breathe” unless it’s my asthma attacking or I’m at a protest fighting for my brothers and sisters.
I’ve been marching too long
We’ve all been marching far too long
I can’t breathe and I have blisters
It’s exhausting
White supremacy
It’s too much to bear

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When Life Gives You Apples: American Children Left Behind

Many black and Latino children in America are given apples and expected to make lemonade.

In America, the achievement gap refers to the difference in Black, Latino, and White students’ average levels of educational achievement (Young). White youth achieve more on average than black and Latino youth. Only 72% of black and Latino youth in America graduated high school in 2012, while 85% of white students graduated nationwide. In 2013, only 4.6 million black and Latino high school graduates attended college compared to the 10 million white high school graduates that attended college (NCES). This achievement gap exists because minority children aren’t as rich in cultural capital as their white counterparts.

The majority of black and Latino children aren’t as privileged as me. I was an A and B student throughout elementary, middle and high school, and I now attend Hamilton College, an elite college. How did I get here?

Although I’m not very rich in terms of economic resources, growing up in a single parent household with my little brother and a single mother who failed to receive child support from both of our fathers, I’m rich in cultural capital. Cultural capital is the general social tastes, preferences, and knowledge of how to skillfully navigate society. It is learned through one’s education, and socio-cultural background.

Growing up in Boston, I was surrounded by educational opportunities and programs. Massachusetts was ranked number 1 in education in 2014-2015 (Bernardo). I was fortunate enough to go to a collegiate charter high school. My graduating class had only 62 students and two college counselors. The school funded college tours around Boston and even out-of-state. As a junior, I began creating drafts of my personal statement; I kept working at it until my college counselors gave it a 100%.

I was involved in many extracurricular activities, especially sports. I played baseball, basketball, and tennis. I worked at a makerspace and entrepreneurship center, where I launched my art business as a sophomore. I was even a part of my school’s debate team. However, my high school and the support I had were by no means the norm in this country for Black and Latino children. There is a lot of progress to be made in other cities and states around America (The Nation’s Report Card). Many esteemed American cities like Washington D.C. lack good education systems. Washington D.C., the nation’s capital, where so many intellectuals, politicians, and judges live fails to educate the children that live in the same area (Bernardo). D.C. is ranked 50^th in the nation. In Washington D.C., only 64.6% of black and Latino students graduated high school compared to the 84.5% of white students that graduated (OSSE); these rates are worse than the national average.

The achievement gap in Massachusetts is much smaller. In 2015, 75.8% of white high school students graduated while 69.6% of black and Latino high school students graduated (Massachusetts Department of ESE). So what has the State of Massachusetts done right in their education system to close the racial attainment gap?

In 1993, Massachusetts decided to focus on improving public education. The Massachusetts Education Reform Act of 1993 set out to reform local education systems throughout the state (Horan). Resources were allocated to revise curricula, and update facilities and equipment, including new books and working computers. Programs were also created to provide more college prep for students. Since the 1993 reform, a higher percentage of kids have been graduating per year Boston’s 4-year graduation rate has climbed from 59.1% in 2006 to 70.7% in 2015 (Horan). Academic performance in the classroom has surged. Boston should and needs be looked at as a national leader in education reform

If not, the achievement gap will continue to exist. If so, the American state and federal governments are illustrating their apathy for America’s failing education system that claims no child should be left behind. Why have legislation like the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 if its basic premise is not being practiced?

Humanizing the American Poor: A Review of the Documentary Rich Hill

“We’re not trash. We’re good people.”

Early on in Andrew Palmero’s and Tracy Tragos’s documentary Rich Hill, Andrew, age 13, delivers this message. Andrew is an adolescent boy subject to a seemingly endless cycle of broken homes and extreme poverty. In documenting the life of Andrew, the directors opt to forgo narration, choosing instead to document his life as it happens. Though the film is void of an explicit narrative, it sheds light on the problems plaguing impoverished families. It provides the viewer with strong ethnographical evidence that supports sociological and economic evidence of the limited upward economic mobility in America as well as the cyclical nature of poverty.

Throughout the film, the directors juxtapose extremely patriotic shots of the town’s Fourth of July celebrations with shots of Andrew struggling to achieve a normal life. At first, I thought these shots served only to make the film more aesthetically pleasing. But as the film progressed, it was clear that they served to demonstrate that, despite what we may think, the American Dream is not always within reach for the extremely poor. For a kid like Andrew, who is forced to bathe in water heated by irons and coffeepots, the day-to-day battle to survive poverty makes long-term planning all but impossible. Furthermore, given his parents’ lack of education and his inconsistent attendance at school, it is very clear that he lacks the cultural capital necessary to understand how one can attain a higher education and a successful career, much less actually achieve these things.

In a similar manner, Palmero and Tragos also include shots of a Ferris wheel at the local carnival in order to represent the cyclical nature of poverty. The academic world has long understood that poverty has a propensity to be passed along from generation to generation. Economic data tells us that the offspring of families in lowest income quintile have the smallest probability of ending up in the highest income quintile (Norton et. al. 2011).

Similarly, sociological literature tells us that parenting styles perpetuate income levels across generations. In her book Unequal Childhoods, Annette Lareau (2003) draws distinctions between the way in which lower and upper classes approach parenting as well as the consequences of the different approaches. She explains that wealthier parents use a child-rearing approach called “concerted cultivation” that is characterized by very active and guided parenting in order to foster the growth of their child’s talents, opinions, and goals. This approach is adopted to prepare children for future academic and occupational endeavors. On the other hand, lower class parents tend to let their children grow and mature more on their own, through a “natural growth” parenting style. As a result, these children are dependent on the institutions they are a part of. They are less likely to seek out alternative guidance or directly question authority. Furthermore, lower class kids are far more likely to spend their time “hanging out” instead of participating in organized extracurricular activities that ultimately are rewarding in the long run (Lareau 2003).

Throughout the film it is apparent that Andrew’s parents’ do not use the concerted cultivation approach. Andrew spends the majority of his afternoons aimlessly playing. The fact that Andrews’ parents frequently move houses in the pursuit of new jobs further eliminates any sense of institutional consistency that would have otherwise existed in Andrew’s life. One cannot help but worry that Andrew will be subject to the same cycle of poverty that his parents experienced as a result of his upbringing. At the conclusion of the film, it is clear that the use of a Ferris wheel could not be a more apt metaphor for Andrew’s family’s life as well as the rural poor as a whole.

Unfortunately Andrew’s experiences are far from unique and are characteristic of the struggles that most young, poor Americans face. It is not clear by the end of the film what could or should be done in order to reverse these troubling trends. While the film fails in this regard, it does deserve considerable praise for its ability to humanize the American poor and strike down stereotypes of a lazy lower class unwilling to work their way out of poverty. It is abundantly clear at the end of the film that Andrew and his family are indeed good people. They are just facing numerous, overwhelming challenges that make it nearly impossible for them to break out of poverty.

Hillary’s Hurdle: The Effects of Gender and Sexism on Professional Women

Hillary Clinton might lose the presidency, and even the nomination, because she is a woman. Among Sanders’ fans who support him with militant millennialism, or Trump supporters who talk about women as if they were dogs, this statement will likely be written off. I might be seen as another worried supporter crying sexism to distract from the actual shortcomings and missteps of Clinton’s campaign. But call off the Berniebots and silence the Trumpeters, because I aim not to qualify my decision to vote for Hillary nor to challenge yours not to. Pointing to professional gender norms and the role of sexism in the media, I aim instead to trace Hillary’s backlash to her gender performance, illustrating the double binds that obstruct paths to success by holding professional women at higher standards than their male counterparts.

Performing gender doesn’t happen in a social vacuum. It happens, rather, in a world of social hierarchies and pressures that enforce expectations and consequences of performance. Women and men are held to different standards of self-presentation, with male-associated behavior more suited for professional success. Tyler Okimoto and Victoria Brescoll’s (2010) study of women in power shows that ambitious women tend to engender feelings of anger and contempt from their male counterparts. These feelings likely come from the cultural understanding of women as “communal”- kind, sensitive and caring, and men as “agentic”-aggressive, competitive, and assertive. Women in public leadership positions who exhibit behaviors not traditionally associated with their gender often risk backlash, even if these behaviors are necessary for their job or position. This theory gains credence from a 2008 study in which male and female participants both “assigned less status” to women who exhibited competitiveness, strong leadership styles, authoritative rhetoric, and ambition (note that each of these characteristics are intrinsic to the demeanor of a president).

Gendered expectations force women to do intense identity work to prove their qualifications and capabilities both as a woman and as a professional. As a result, women can “easily cross the line and appear to be insufficiently feminine- that is, not “nice” enough” (Carroll 2009, 6). Sociologist Rosabeth Moss Kanter comments on this dynamic in her work on gender and tokenism, laying out four common stereotypes and associated identities forced upon professional women. Three of these four identities are markedly feminine (the seductress, mother, and pet), while one bares masculine undertones (the iron maiden). The latter is implicitly critical, using masculine imagery to shame strong women. This unfairly places women into roles they may or may not identity with, since “women inducted into the iron maiden role are stereotyped as tougher than they are (hence the name) and trapped in a more militant stance than they might otherwise take” (Kanter 984, 1977).

Viewed by many as an iron maiden, Clinton bears harsh attacks for her perceived lack of femininity. As articulated by Diana B. Carlin and Kelly Winfrey, in the 2008 race, “both Clinton’s physical appearance and her choice of pantsuits over skirts and dresses were the source of considerable derision.” Public figures speak often and sharply of Clinton’s appearance. Rush Limbaugh in 2008 contrasted Clinton with Sarah Palin by saying that Clinton is “not going to remind anybody of their ex-wife, she’s going to remind men, ‘Gee, I wish she was single’’ (Carlin and Winfrey 2009, 331, 338). The double standard therefore extends to the media by creating a platform to judge men on a basis of merit while women, as illustrated by Limbaugh’s statement, are judged by personality, physical attractiveness, and gender performance. FOX news contributor Tucker Carlson once said of Hillary: “when she comes on television, I involuntarily cross my legs.” This statement directly paints Clinton as a danger to men everywhere, reinforcing the harmful characterization of powerful women as threats to male-dominated institutions.

Journalists bear equal blame for negatively reporting on Clinton’s gender performance. Prominent amongst these pen-yielding mudslingers is New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd, whose scathing columns boil to the brim with sexist sentiment. In a 2015 column, Dowd described Clinton as a “granny” who should learn to “campaign as a woman.” Dowd, who once called Clinton “the manliest candidate,” later criticized her as over-feminizing, stating that she “should have run as a man this time.” From these wildly offensive (and contradictory) statements to the claim the Hillary “killed feminism,” Dowd and reporters like her use Hillary’s sex as a weapon of slander and hate, harming public perception by shaming her non-hegemonic gender performance.

Some media sexism comes in abrasive and obvious forms, like calling Hillary “shrill” or “bitchy,” but the majority of it comes by subtly addressing female candidates with less respect than their male opponents. As discovered in Joseph Uscinski and Lilly Goren’s 2010 study of the 2008 Democratic Primary, both sexes tend to call men by their titles and women by their first names. In the 2008 primaries, Clinton was referenced in newspaper coverage “by first name 3 percent more [than opponent Barack Obama) and her title of Senator was omitted 15 percent more.” On television, Clinton was referenced by first name four times more than Obama was. These seemingly minute and peripheral statistics actually resonate deeply within the dynamics of a campaign. As Uscinsi and Goren (2010) found, “referencing a woman by a first name may project an image of inferiority to the audience.” The media therefore disadvantages Clinton not only through overt sexism, but by subtly painting her as a less viable candidate.

Hillary Clinton is, and always has been, a polarizing figure. Her long career of spotlight scrutiny left her seasoned with scars, dividing the American public sharply between champions and critics. As a fellow on Clinton’s campaign who spent months canvassing door-to-door, I heard time and time again that people like her policies but not her personality, her vision but not her voice, her ideas but not her identity. These criticisms come largely from those who see Hillary as a threat to hegemonic gender norms, and who watch, unsettled, as she every day cuts cracks in the glass ceiling not with a stiletto or kitchen knife, but with her own two hands. We need to stop pretending that the playing field is level. Like it or not, Hillary Clinton is not a man. She’s a woman (a strong woman), and it’s time we stopped punishing her for it.

The challenges of being a first-generation college student

When I applied for college, a question on the application asked if I was a first generation college student. I checked the box, not fully knowing the question’s significance. Later I found out only 15% of the students in my class year were first-generation college students. I guess that makes me kind of special.

Although freshman year is challenging for most students, many of the struggles first generation students face are unique. Besides academic and social transitions most of the students face, first generation college students face additional cultural challenges (Pascarella et al. 2004). These students can experience a cultural conflict between home and the university environment because their parents did not attend colleges. First generation students do not always understand what some students may have learned from their parents, and thus, grasp intuitively (Tugend, 2015). For example, first gen students may lack understandings of how to navigate various facets of campus culture, such as how to make friends and accessing social and academic resources.

Collegiate academics are considerably harder to grasp than the high school curriculum. Assigned reading are more difficult to comprehend, essays are more demanding, and projects are more complicated. In addition, it is more difficult to balance the time between study and social activities. Last semester, I spent hours doing my philosophy readings, not understanding most of their contents. Sometimes I would not have dinner with my friends because I had to do more work.

The stress from academics and social isolation can cause mental issues. Joseph Morales (2013), an alumnus from Pomona College, when reflecting his college experience, said, “Depression was a constant issue. I felt dumb, poor, homesick, confused, and burnt out.”

Students compare themselves with others based not only on academic performance, but also on socioeconomic status. Not all first-generation students are from low-income families, but a large proportion of them are from a lower socioeconomic background (Tugend, 2015). Being a first-gen college student and from a lower socioeconomic class has a coupling effect on students’ self-confidence and self-esteem. They often hide their identities because if their peers know they are both first-gen and poor, their peers may underestimate their academic ability, achievement, and performance (Banks-Santilli, 2015).

Unfortunately, even though first-generation college students face many new challenges, often their parents cannot relate to their experiences. When I talked to my mom about the classes I was taking and clubs I was a member of last semester, our conversation always seemed to remain at the surface level. Later, I learned to tell her about my life in a more routine way, stating everything I did every day without explaining in details because she would seemed indifferent anyway. Even though we are still close, there are so many things about me that my parents do not know, and I wish I could share more details with them.

First-generation college students are different from other students, but discussions of these differences rarely occur. There is a lot that colleges can do to improve the situation. For example, Harvard University has established a program on directing college awareness to future first generation college students (Harvard First Generation Program). The program aims at raising awareness to future first-gen college students and building networks between alumni and these students. Hosting lectures on challenges first-gen students face and designing programs for first-generation college students will help them better understand their identities and have more a successful transition to college. Colleges can also hold meetings or set up discussions for first-gen college students to help them feel less alone. Schools can work harder to admit more first-gen college so that they have greater representation as well. Increased support for first generation students is crucial to help them achieve self-worth and success, not only in college but also beyond it.