The Midwestern Black Professor Teaching MAGA Babies Is Not All Right
By: Jonita Davis
Tags: Black In The Midwest, Race, Equality, Education, Midwest

I stood in front of the class the next time we met (after grading the essays and meeting with my program director) and tried to keep my anger from slipping out with my carefully chosen words.

My lecture was about appropriate language. It was from the textbook, but first, from my experience as a Black woman in America. I would address that anti-Black rhetoric in their writing as well. However, my emotions defied me, and before too long the bass in my voice had dropped. Soon, I was speaking from a hurt heart and not my notes. By the time I was done, the class was in shock, but at rapt attention. When I asked if there were any questions, as I usually end each lecture, the 22 “no” headshakes were almost in unison. They were afraid. I knew from years of navigating White spaces that this fear was a bomb waiting to go off… and I would be the casualty.

So, I took a breath and apologized for my anger, adding, “I will not apologize for my words. You all needed to hear and see firsthand how these words hurt. I am just sorry that you had to experience that from me, your professor.”

The whole classroom unclenched its collective jaw muscles. The worst was over. Time for some cleanup work. I went over to the door that was slightly ajar and closed it all the way. I then turned to the class and told them that the classroom was a safe space, and if they had questions about appropriate language, they had a person of color to ask. “Let’s do it in an environment of learning,” I said. “Does anyone have any questions?” No one moved. I stood there and scanned the room. “I’ll wait. Remember, I’ve read your writing for weeks. I just know there are some questions here. It’s better to ask me now than to let something slip on the job and get fired.”

After another few minutes of silence, one student raised his hand. “So, if we can’t say that, um what you said was the wrong word, what do we call them?”

“Who’s them? Black people? Like me?” I offered.

“Yeah.”

Another male student joined in, “Yeah, I was told we can’t say Black.”

“So, in this case, look at who is giving you the information. Is the person who told you not to call Black people Black… a White person.”

He blushed.

“I don’t mean to embarrass. I’m just asking.”

Nod.

“Okay, look at it this way, do you want to get baking advice from a dentist?” Nervous laughs throughout the room. “Well, it’s the same thing. If you want to know what to call a Black person, ask one! Do it politely and not just at random, okay. Use this time to interact with people you never have before. Talk to a Black person or Latinx person or a person from the LGBTQ community. Just please, if you need info about that community, go there. Don’t go to your uncle George and ask him why some Latinx people use Hispanic over Latino. The answer you get will not be credible.”

Nervous laughs.

That opened the floodgates. The rest of that class became a Q&A about appropriate language. I even traced the N-word back to slavery and told a kid who played basketball with his Black friends once a week why they got mad when he tried to use the word. I assigned a Ta-Nehisi Coates video to drive the point home.

I left class feeling an ease of sorts, but I was so exhausted. It was only 10 a.m.