Week 7

Welcome to the journal entry for Week 7. I will be discussing everything that comes to mind, all of my opinions, feelings, thoughts and general conceptions in this document. I do not know who I am writing for today. To be frank, I am still reeling after watching the Presidential debates. In this class that deals with leadership, I guess it would be on brand to briefly discuss it here. I feel as though I am locked in a burning house without windows. Every option seems extremely flawed and we’re being forced to choose between two options that don’t serve us. From one chaotic situation to the next. Our lives have been upended at the start of this year and now that we are nearing the end, things don’t seem to be improving at all. I wonder what traits of leadership we’re missing. or what motivations for leading lead us down this path. I think American politics are too personalized, too focused on material you’d identify as tabloid-worthy and less on the merit and qualifications of the individual running. Too much of our public approval ratings relies on things that have no real relevance to someone’s ability to lead. How we could end up with such a terrible example of competent leadership is beyond me. Where we are going, I do not know. I just hope that this tunnel we’re walking through doesn’t have a a dead end.

What does it mean to be an advocate for others? I believe most simply put, an advocate for others is someone who can represent you and act as an effective mouthpiece. One cannot advocate for people who he does not understand. You have to be cognizant of who your people are and what they want. Advocacy is not necessarily a true leadership postion. While you are highlighted amongst others, you don’t have the autonomy to change fundamental things at will. You are put in your position for the people by the people. I believe any good advocate should have the wherewithal to make unprecedented decisions on behalf of the people they are representing, because it would be unrealistic to have to consult your people for every single choice. So there may be some autonomy present there, however in the grand scheme of things, a true advocate should not be forging their own path with the power given to them.

When discussing how we come to figure out how other people feel about us, there really is no clear answer. What we may think is an indicator of how someone feels about us, may be something that we just falsely perceived one way or another. I think that is very important to keep in mind. The clearest indicator of how someone feels about you is body language. People are known to lie and do so frequently. However, most people fail to lie with their bodies. Someone can visibly be speaking accolades about you, but exhibit behaviors that say otherwise. Facial expressions are a dead giveaway. For whatever reason, our instinctual reactions serve to expose how we truly feel about any given situation. Anyone who is good at figuring out how people really feel is highly attentive. They pick up on changes in vocal inflection, hesitations and like I said before, body language. You don’t necessarily have to study much or take classes, sometimes it naturally presents itself through social interaction. If you look close enough, you will notice that people are routinely lying, and their bodies are exposing them for doing so.

One time in my life I decided to speak out against something I thought was wrong. Well… the first example that comes to mind has to do with my catholic highschool. They were very conservative and strict. The teachers were mostly white, while the student demographic consisted of mostly hispanic people. Every year, we were required to take mandatory Theology classes, which weren’t really based on the actual study of theology, but rather provided the school an avenue to spread it’s catholic ideology directly to its students. Now, I do not have anything against Catholicism or Catholic people, but I am staunchly opposed to the forcing of catholic rhetoric upon students who identified every which way. As a student body we could pretty much rely on our Theology teachers to be some of the most close minded and verbally aggressive staff members in the entire building. There was one particular lecture I’ll never forget. For whatever reason, we were discussing slavery as a major human rights violation. My white Puerto Rican teacher decided that he would take it upon himself to “get as close to the subject material as possible.” He had given us all a document which detailed a slave auction, one that was a relic from the past. He insisted upon referring to the slaves as “field niggers and house niggers” In front of the entire class. This instantly upset me. I had already run into problems with him before of a similar nature, since he was one of those people who decided he would be the authority on all things social justice, regardless of whether he identified with the group he was touting justice for or not and he often liked to relate to the black experience as if he was somehow a member of it by association. I instantly raised my hand and he ignored me for quite some time, probably because he knew what I was about to address and he knew that he was wrong. I patiently waited to be called upon, and kept the urge to raise hell in the classroom at bay. He finally acknowledged my hand, and I very bluntly informed him of where he went wrong. He did not have to mention the word nigger at all, let alone twice in the same sentence. It was not his business to even think of saying that word in front of us. He began arguing with me, saying that he was simply only using the verbiage that was appropriate for that time. However, I’m sure the word “Slave” existed long before nigger did. This is where that body language we were discussing comes into play. At this point in time, I am probably giving him the meanest scowl he’s ever received in his life. He becomes angry with me and says that I’m being “controversial” and that somehow my expression of discontent with his use of blatant slurs is disruptive and unecessary. The same person who claims to be part of this warped sense of Blackness by association, is actively censoring the person who is actually Black. Actively telling me my comments and concerns are unnecessary. The social justice warrior himself.

Another time I stood up for what I believe in and spoke out against a practice I thought was wrong has to do with the exact same school, in the exact same timeframe. Go figure. Another racial issue, because they had little to no regard for the complexities and fragilities associated with the racial identity of their students. They continually used as a prop for photos, boasting about how diverse and inclusive their school was, but their diversity began and ended with the handpicking of students for pictures. It was the beginning of Senior year and someone on Student Council brought up the fact that Spellman had banned all Black protective hairstyles on boys. The discontent over this rule existing resurfaced because of a law passed last year in New York which explicitly makes discriminating against Black hair, in any state, as unprofessional, is a crime. While in the meeting with the principal, he went out of his way to reassure us that these hairstyles were never once banned or looked at differently. I was annoyed, because they were and black boys in the building have been putting up with what you can easily define as harassment for wearing these styles long before I came into the school. However, I looked at my fellow student council member, who was a Black girl, and we laughed. Not because this man was clearly lying to us, but because this meant we would have the most fun taking his words and living up to the extent of them. I had been spending the entirety of last year growing my afro textured hair to shoulder length. I think I will remember what happened the first day I wore twists to school for the rest of my life. Not even 10 minutes into the building and I was escorted out by the Assistant Principal, a black man for that matter, and he had a long 5 minute discussion with me outside in the cold about why “as a leader” I shouldn’t wear certain hair styles. That I should lead by example and go back to my older, more conservative, more controlled hair style. Even though the rule permits it, I was strongly urged to not wear my hear the way I deemed fit. I was told I would be making people in the school angry. That I would upset a lot of the white people with the sight of my person. I delighted in the thought of antagonizing the racists in the building with whatever hairstyle I could come up with. His speech meant to deter me did nothing but empower me. I would not be silenced and my hair would stay styled however I deemed fit. For the duration of the school year, up until COVID took away what little bit of high school we had left, I wore all different kinds of styles. I wore twists. I wore braids. I wore the tightest cornrows I’ve ever gotten. I wore bantu knots. I refused to let the comments and actions of my racist staff members deter me. Every side eye empowered me. I took up the space that I was owed. No one would dictate how I would wear my hair, where I would where it. Not even my own family.