How Whiteness Tried, and Failed to Silence My Voice

Table of Links

Abstract and 1 Introduction

2. Early Life

3. Whiteness as an Institution

4. The Triple Threat

5. The Academic Plantation Field

6. The Future Is Black Women

7. Imagination as a Tool

8. Imagination through Research

9. Imagination through Play

10. Collaboration as Imagination

11. Conclusions and References

2. Early Life

“Black girls pursue freedom unapologetically and with imagination to cope with stressors of punishment.”—Tyese Brown (2023)

My journey began the moment I was born into this world as a Black girl. I believe the very existence of Black girls and Black women is an act of resistance. Growing up in the South Bronx and raised in Harlem by a grandmother from the south helped me find my voice early. My work in advocacy and policy dates back to my pre-teen years, when I was immersed in a community rife with challenges and thrust into activism to survive the multiple forms of oppression I faced as a Black girl.

The public schools I attended were a haven for me. The administrators, teachers, and support staff were all predominantly Black and Latino. They served as a shield to the outside world of oppression. In school, I was able to cultivate my communication and leadership skills through theater, debate, and dance programs. School was also the first place I was allowed to use my voice to speak about the injustices faced by my peers and me in our community. In junior high school, I attended protests, rallies, and state hearings on child welfare issues. These experiences were vital because they showed me that my voice mattered. It also allowed me to understand policy early on. As I transitioned into high school, I was introduced to whiteness and dominance through a youth-focused mock government program outside of my school—a stark contrast to the predominantly Black and Latino environment I grew up in. It was through these white-centered programs that I began to see the many hardships I would face as a Black girl and woman. Pon (2009) defines whiteness as “A structural position of racial privilege from which white people view themselves, others, and cultural practices. Whiteness operates to maintain and reproduce the systemic and structural dominance of white people in all spheres of society including the social, cultural, political, spiritual, and economic, among others”. Whiteness is created and functions as the norm. The moment anything goes against whiteness, it is deemed problematic, resulting in a state of confusion for all. Andrews (2016) posits, “If we see whiteness as a psychosis, then we understand that it is hallmarked by irrationality and a distinct inability to see reality in any other way than the distorted view it creates”. Whiteness never made sense to me, and it was the primary reason I was almost always in trouble as a teen participant in nonprofit programs serving Black and Latino youth but centering whiteness as its practice. White-centered spaces labeled my voice “too much” or “negative” as a teen who demanded we have race-centered conversations. Teen programs were created through what I would now refer to as a programmatic design rooted in epistemic violence. Gayatri Spivak (1988) defines epistemic violence as the notion that dominant discourses can inflict harm on subjects through discourse. It was the first time I felt othered, controlled, and silenced. It was in white spaces that I suffered extreme punishments as a teen, such as loss of scholarship funds for publicly disagreeing with the director of our program and dismissal from a banquet when I refused to read a speech written for me but not written by me. The rules and policies I broke were designed by whiteness, maintained by whiteness, and enforced by whiteness. This pattern continued to play out into my adulthood as a professional. Whiteness begets whiteness. The perpetuation of whiteness leads to the reinforcement of its norms, and anything diverging from these norms is seen as a violation. Very early on, I understood that simply existing as a young Black girl meant I was considered outside the bounds of acceptability by the standards of whiteness, as it could not control or define me.