Anti-Blackness and the Haunts of White Supremacy
When I was six years old, three distinct memories shaped my Halloween experience.
My PacMan costume. In particular, the experience of becoming Ms. Pacman with a red bow, walking the neighborhood with my sisters hand in hand and showing we belonged by knowing every word of Micheal Jackson’s Thriller. When the young boys in my first-grade class would swing their moist Jheri curls in their reversible Beat It / Thriller jackets to show they belonged on the right side of cool, my sisters and I would spend our time, following the leadership of my older sister, reciting the words to the song, especially Vincent Prices’s lyrics. Memorizing the words and the dance snatched the fear from the music. We did our best to try to become Micheal Jackson, failing most of the time but trying our best to dance like him, sing like him, and, when we were courageous, attempt the choreography of the grizzly ghouls. The visuals in the groundbreaking video did not disappoint, and the playground imaginations speculated the historical figures that might be those “grizzly ghouls from every tomb who were closing in to seal your doom.”
At 46, I look back on those memories fondly because of the protection of innocence. I hadn't seen a “grizzly ghoul,” “experienced a fight to stay alive,” or “had my body start to shiver.” I had not smelled the “funk of forty thousand years” or “seen the rot inside a corpse's shell.” But as I've gotten older, I have developed a different tolerance for horror and Halloween.
While I was never permitted to watch Friday the 13th or Nightmare of Elm’s Street as a child, watching these films in adulthood conjures mostly laughter and shock. A serial killer with a hockey mask does not scare me. But the dancing twins, Topsy and Bopsy, the sinister maniacal haunts from Lovecraft Country, are terrifying. Freddy Krueger does not scare me. But the idea of losing the autonomy of my body, like in Get Out, is psychologically and physically arresting. Sometimes, the suspense of The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock raises my heart rate, but it’s also quickly calmed by the crude special effects and the actual birds flying across the screen attacking people.
If I am honest, as a child what was terrifying and maddening was watching Eyes on the Prize or Roots with my family. Reading books on lynch mobs and seeing the mutilation of innocence create such a visceral reaction in my body they can make any Hollywood horror film feel like a Disney cartoon. It is not the fiction of losing the autonomy of my body but the factual possibility and probability that these movies brought into focus. This media was scary and frightening because the “darkness that falls across the land” is not darkness but anti-blackness.
The New York Times recently reported that by 2050, the world will not only be majority people of color, the world will be majority African. A population bloom such as this makes me wonder what anti-blackness looks like when colonial ideas reduce the world's majority to black. And while 2050 is a while away, what can we do to ensure this haunt no longer “crawls in search of blood to terrorize y’all’s neighborhood?”
Anti-blackness is the progeny of white supremacy that haunts not just white people; it haunts everyone. It haunts our standards of beauty. It haunts our structure of language and expression. It casts spells of inadequacy, urgency, and scarcity, fomenting fracture in its wake. It waits patiently for its next host, exploiting heartbreak, grief, and misfortune. Its conjuring strikes the fear of deprivation and poverty, forcing bodies to conform to invisible standards of acceptance that always seem to shapeshift in proximity–quite devilish indeed.
My family has a way of dealing with ghosts, haunts, and spirits. We have our blessings, our rituals, and incantations. We have our candles, sage, and salts. There is respect for the spirit world and the discernment of intent for those beings that are no longer bodied. When an unwelcomed spirit would visit, there would be much discussion on its message and purpose, finding ways to create distance when needed or desired closeness for comfort for the grieving.
There are instructions on how and when to discern their presence using the body as a guide–the shock of cold air on a hot day, hearing the book that falls unprompted from the shelf, or even the door that opens during the holiday announcing the presence of a transitioned elder. There is high respect for the being that could transcend time and space. There is respect for the being that could become bodied at will, especially when there is a ready host. My ancestors knew and understood how to protect themselves from the dangers of those harmful spirits outside their bodies. And they knew how to protect themselves from those grizzly ghouls already in bodies, whether behind lunch counters, at the water fountain, or in the corner store. This level of discernment was not trick or treat; it was life and death. It was their protection for the unprotected.
Anti-blackness is the evil of the thriller. And while we can spend thousands of dollars and countless hours creating evidence-based tools to prove it exists, we know in our bodies and our hearts that it does. Learning how to prepare our bodies as nodes of perception is an equity literacy.
The awareness of our own bodies enables the awareness of others. As the world population blossoms in color, it is time to interrogate our possession of anti-blackness and how it shows up in us. As educators and leaders, understanding how anti-blackness haunts and guides us is core to an equity design practice because it helps us locate the margins, the place of rebirth and design. But we can only see the haunting if we can see with our hearts and listen with our eyes. With the help of the 1000+ educators in the equityXdesign community, we can see and listen to how anti-blackness continues to possess systems and haunt practice.
Haunted Houses: An educator reflected on how a subconscious desire for racial comfort influences residency choices. The conversation evolved to explore the concept of "anti-blackness" within the educational system. One contributor pointed out that while the term may not be openly acknowledged, its subtle manifestations become evident, such as the disproportionate number of white students in higher-level courses.
How might we make visible the paradoxes of anti-blackness, and how has it guided our choices and decisions without ridicule and shame?
“I see my school and district doing their part in this by reworking the content of the literacy curriculum to include a diverse representation of characters, whom our students can identify with. Prior to the district taking this initiative, I noticed our literacy curriculum almost exclusively highlighted white characters and historical figures. A fictional book about a house painted imagery of the city being dark, dirty, and undesirable to live in. We teach literacy in part to communicate, so what then are these books and their content aiming to teach our students, directly or indirectly? We must always be questioning these things.”
Haunted Systems: Schools are a microcosm of broader societal structures perpetuating inequality. Educators touched on issues like redlining and coded language that perpetuate systemic racial biases. One educator mentioned a Texas school experience, emphasizing how standardized testing unfairly placed the onus of a school's success on a small demographic of Black students. This educator pointed out that the discussion often overlooked other critical data, such as teacher experience and rates of food insecurity among students.
Several educators point out the subtler forms of anti-Blackness they've observed in their workplaces. This includes everything from speech and communication styles being valued differently to the unintentional but damaging reinforcement of inequality through well-meaning programs. In the context of pervasive racism and anti-blackness in American education, the role of educators is pivotal in dismantling these harmful norms. Schools and districts have a responsibility to critically examine their curriculum and instructional materials, as they can indirectly reinforce racial stereotypes. For example, a literacy curriculum that predominantly features white characters can perpetuate a skewed worldview. Such biases in content can subtly teach students harmful ideologies and reinforce existing structures of anti-blackness. It's essential to question what lessons such materials impart to students.
How might we create spaces of visibility and repair with our haunted systems?
“I think sometimes we perpetuate the notion of "objectivity" and "one right way" through the way we communicate data. The Condemnation of Blackness in particular, made me pause to consider whether interpretations of data can truly be objective and how our attempts at fair and unbiased assessments actually land on our audiences and therefore impact them. “
“I see my school and district doing their part in this by reworking the content of the literacy curriculum to include a diverse representation of characters, whom our students can identify with. Prior to the district taking this initiative, I noticed our literacy curriculum almost exclusively highlighted white characters and historical figures. A fictional book about a house painted imagery of the city being dark, dirty, and undesirable to live in. We teach literacy in part to communicate, so what then are these books and their content aiming to teach our students, directly or indirectly? We must always be questioning these things.”
Sage and Salts: Other educators worked in a setting with little racial diversity and noted that the system could have been more responsive to the unique cultural and heritage needs of students from different racial backgrounds. Listening to podcasts on Universal Equity for Learning further strengthened the educator's belief in the importance of dismantling inequitable practices to create a more inclusive educational environment for all students. The concept of "anti-blackness" is identified as an under-discussed yet pervasive issue, with one educator sharing the absence of such topics in history classes. Others raise the need to revisit policies and curricula that inadvertently continue to marginalize racially diverse students, particularly in higher-level courses.
How might we design curriculum and learning experiences that protect our spaces and students from anti-blackness?
“The impacts across both adults and children are deep and often unnoticed. I believe that anti-blackness and racism is a public health issue that has insidious implications on the physical health and emotional well-being of Black and Brown folks. As adults, the prevalence of anti-blackness has led to fissures in school communities that limit the potential for authentic community building and ownership of past aggressions so that members can reach healing and recovery. The students are paying attention and they are aware of the prevalence of these mindsets in their school communities. Unfortunately, this leads to the development of imposter syndrome, decreased feelings of hope, and limited feelings of belonging that can lead to children or students feeling withdrawn from the education community they are existing within.”
Rituals and Incantations: The discussion among students and educators underscores the deep-seated issues of racial inequity, white fragility, and outdated policies in educational settings. While some participants point out the narrow worldviews perpetuated by limited education and a lack of diverse experiences, others emphasize the need for cultural responsiveness and breaking away from a Eurocentric curriculum. Several educators recognize their privilege in having access to training and personal development opportunities, which many others in the community may lack. Educators also discuss the emotional impact of acknowledging systemic racial biases and underscore that confronting such issues is not just uncomfortable but necessary. Social studies could serve as a platform for students to engage more critically with American history and its contradictions.
How might we design rituals and incantations to heal and confront anti-blackness with voice and body? What must we say and do differently?
Our world is blooming in color. Our schools are blooming in color. And the fragrance of their innocence, vibrance, and vitality could snuff out the funk of forty thousand when we are willing to face our demons, ghosts, and possessions. It would be a true treat if we all did it together, but if not—the trickster of all tricks will reign terror again.
Cast some healing spells.
Design some new rituals.
Call in a new season where all have the space to be seen, heard, and celebrated.
