Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Theatre & Social Justice

So a few months ago I wrote an essay (or had a stream of consciousness rant, take your pick) about why I never pursued a degree in Psychology or Counseling or what not. But now I take the time to answer two more questions, mainly because I'm having a bit of a crisis of faith, partially because I've been struggling all day and all night to write one freaking cover letter, and most importantly because I just need to put my thoughts out on paper and write. Which two questions, you might ask? First, why I did end up getting my Master's in Theatre, and secondly, why I would ever believe that it would help me in a career in Student Affairs. I answer them both because they're both kind of the same answer.

For starters, I believe that the greatest method of education is not found in the classroom at all; rather it is found in narrative literature. Oh sure, we learn things in our college courses; we learn a whole lot of stuff, much of it directly related to our chosen field of study (and ultimately our choice of career.) Yet this merely relates to what we do. Who we are, as humans; how we interact with ourselves, each other, and the world around us; we learn very little from the classroom. Instead, we learn these things partially from our interactions, but mainly from our narrative literature. Be it actual novels, or theatre, film, dance, television, even video games; all of these mediums constantly feed us with information on how to be the kinds of people we want to be. I chose theatre because I feel this is where my artistic talents lie, but I could have just as easily wound up a novelist, or in Hollywood. And who knows, I may still. For the time being, however, I feel I can do more to reach out to a group of people through my plays than in any other setting, and that includes the classroom.

The reason for why narrative is more effective than pedagogy in passing along a message is simple: as people, we generally love being shown, and we hate being told. This particularly holds true when teaching something that is inherently controversial and difficult to grasp, such as, say, social justice. I don't know about you, but I've yet to sit through a large-scale social justice training without either being completely put off by either the way the material was being presented or the way others reacted to it. Nobody wants to be told that the way they've perceived the world around them for the majority of their lives is wrong, yet this is precisely what most social justice training amounts to. Add to this the intellectual elitism that permeates most social justice education and it's small wonder why so many people react so violently against it, even those student leaders handpicked to be peer educators themselves.

Imagine then, instead of a classroom (or training session), this training takes place in a theatre. After all, a theatre is nothing more than a particular kind of classroom; the playwright writes the textbook, the director is the instructor, and the actors, designers, and their ilk make up the teacher's aides. Unconventional, sure, but follow me for a bit. Students are no longer being given a pedantic lecture by an authority figure (which positional politics generally teaches them to inherently distrust). If the text is well-written, the "lecture" is instead presented, not told, by a group of peer educators (actors), portraying individuals that students can make an emotional connection with. Now, students are no longer being told a theoretical world exists where theoretical privilege and theoretical oppression affects millions of theoretical people. This theoretical world is one that can just as easily not exist. And to borrow a concept from Stalin, a million is a mere statistic, but an individual is a tragedy. Introduce that same privilege and same oppression to an individual that the audience (the students) has spent an act building an emotional connection to; show them exactly, in a real world setting, what privilege looks like and what oppression looks like, and how it impact real people, and now you have a classroom that is more inclined to buy into whether such a world exists. Impact them emotionally enough, and you provide enough motivation for them to learn more on their own, and that should be goal of any educational pursuit.

And sure, there will still be plenty of people who simply won't buy it. But they'll be more much more open to the idea than if a single "radical liberal" professor were simply telling them what they believed was wrong. This kind of setting has the added benefit of making the conversation afterword more organic and more natural. I have seen countless social justice trainings and discussions frustrated into a state of uselessness due to nothing more than vocabulary and semantics. The average entitled white college student isn't going to hear that racism can't happen to them; and when you form as the basis of your training a definition of racism (or oppression, for that matter) that specifically excludes them from ever being the victim in a situation, they'll be immediately shut out of the conversation. They aren't going to listen to a single thing more you have to say on the subject; what's worse, anything you have to say that is tangentially related to social justice may be immediately dismissed as false. There is nothing more dangerous to a social justice training than trying to establish a common vocabulary. For starters, at least half of your students will tune out because your definition excludes them from victimhood (a cornerstone of young adulthood, you must understand), and at least a quarter more because "that's not what the dictionary says" or some other such nonsense. It's not helpful. It's never helpful. Trying to force one (and especially such an unappealing one) on a group of students will lead to confusion, frustration, and self-censorship at the very best.

Trying to establish a common vocabulary is just one step in the process of creating a "safe" discussion about social justice. But here's the problem: when talking about such a difficult and emotional topic as oppression, a "safe discussion" and an "honest discussion" are practically mutually exclusive. And let's be truthful here; an honest discussion is going to be much more effective in the long run. People are already going to be walking on eggshells when we have the social justice talk. That's a given. When you then try to introduce a vocabulary that people either don't agree with or don't understand, well, now people are even more worried that they're going to say the wrong thing, if they even bother speaking up at all. And here's the unpleasant truth of it all: we learn by making mistakes. In any field, in any vocation, in any aspect of life; we make a mistake, suffer whatever consequences, and learn from it. Social justice training, long before they ever get a point where people can have a conversation, is able about reducing mistakes. And that, by its very nature, reduces learning. I understand the desire to protect people from being triggered, I do. But social justice conversations needs to be honest if anyone is going to learn anything, and that means giving people license to make mistakes, trigger others, get challenged. And please, I am begging you, challenge people who make mistakes. Nothing is more frustrating than watching people I care about being triggered by someone saying something ignorant and then not getting called out on it. There's a huge difference between someone agreeing to disagree and someone completely discrediting other peoples' life experiences, and the latter needs to be called out. Otherwise what learning is supposed to be taking place?

Here's one thing that I believe that might be unpopular; but do you know what I think is worse than the person who says something ignorant that belittles or triggers someone? The person who believes something that might belittle or trigger someone else and keeps it to themselves. Again, who is learning when you create an atmosphere that encourages this kind of behavior? Remember class, there's no such thing as a stupid question, unless it might be a little bit racist/sexist/homophobic/etc; then you probably wanna keep that to yourselves. What kind of warped teaching philosophy is this? In my social advocacy class last semester, we devoted a class session to talking about social justice, and confronting racism in particular. The conversation went pretty much no where. It mainly amounted to many white students talking about how afraid they are to say the wrong thing. Of course, I too was struggling with the fear of saying the wrong thing in confronting that kind of thinking. Hypocritical, I know, but hey, I'm only human. Anyway, by the time I finally raised my hand and got on the speaker's list, there was no time left in class. The teacher told me I had thirty seconds, forcing me to quickly paraphrase the carefully worded verbal essay I had spent the entire class period mentally crafting into two sentences. What came out is probably, I feel, one of the smartest things I've ever said: "We all say stupid shit all the time. That shouldn't stop us from having a conversation." Anti-racist activist Tim Wise summed up the dilemma a lot more eloquently, but then that's why he makes the big bucks:

The whites in these dialogue groups, on the other hand, are often tentative to a point that is almost farcical. Nervous, afraid of saying the wrong thing, and convinced that people of color will yell at them for a slip of the tongue, whites often remain in a shell when racial dialogues begin.

This is one of the reasons that facilitators often go out of their way to create "safety." They are hoping that whites will participate more honestly if only they can be guaranteed that black people won't attack them for their ignorance.

Such a concern is, of course, preposterous, coming as it does from members of the most powerful group on the planet. I mean really now, do we, as whites believe there is any group on Earth that is safer than we are? Do we honestly think that people of color are in a position to jump our asses in a controlled workshop setting? What do we think they're going to do? Knife us for God's sakes?(1)


All of these issues that detract from learning take place when you try to specifically craft a social justice discussion immediately following a long, pedantic lecture that few people followed and believed wholeheartedly in. Imagine, instead, a play or a film. There is no vocabulary list that comes with the handbill; no ground rules for discussions on the wall on the way to the exit. Conversations are raw, emotional, honest, and ultimately educational. People will disagree, argue, get upset, challenge one another, and grow from the experience. And sure, people are probably still going to walk on eggshells when the discussion turns to race/sex/gender/etc. politics, but they'll be far more likely to say what they mean in this more open and honest setting than they would in a educational arena where they have been strongly discouraged from the outset not to, for lack of a term, say stupid shit. And likewise, people are likely to feel more inclined to call each other out than in this supposed safe space, where attacking other people's beliefs, ignorant though they may be, in just as discouraged.

This is what I love about the Tunnel of Oppression. For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, yes, I'm aware it's a cheesy name, but bear with me. The idea is that a group of people are shuttled silently through a series of short scenes, each one highlighting some form of oppression or prejudice, and often in a highly shocking and/or emotionally impactful manner. After the tour group has watched each scene, then and only then are they brought to a debriefing session to talk about what they've seen. There's usually little time wasted in establishing ground rules for these discussions, and they are often honest, difficult, and ultimately eye-opening conversations. It's not perfect, of course, but as far as social justice primers go it sure as hell beats trying to drill into a group of people a definition of institutional oppression that flies in the face of everything else they've ever been taught.

This isn't to say that we shouldn't be teaching this kind of vocabulary, we just in no way should ever start with it. Get people to believe in institutional oppression before teaching them why white people can't be institutionally oppressed. Get people on your side before giving them a reason to get defensive. Show them, then tell them.

This was probably a lot longer than it needed to be, but that, in a very roundabout way, is why I feel that getting my Master's in Theatre was important, and why I feel that my background in theatre education has prepared me for a career in a student affairs in a way that no "related" degree possibly could. This is not to say that a "related" degree wouldn't make me more marketable, or help me find a job much easier. But after this reflection I am now more grateful for my three years in M.A. program than I ever have been before, because I now know that no matter where I end up, in whatever role I get hired for, I will be a far greater educator because of it.

And now that I've said it, and now that I believe it, I can stop fretting about it, and start getting some real work done.

But first, sleep.

2 comments:

  1. this is why the "teaching sociology" bible = pedagogy of the oppressed (freire).

    aside:
    freire: oppression -> die hard: f*ck (tee hee).

    but seriously, it's not supposed to be easy to talk about privilege. that's the point, to get the dominant group to understand what its like to not always be on top. i agree, to shelter white kids from being uncomfortable is totally counterproductive.

    well said, and one more thing:

    you could major in physics, math, theater, art, sociology, biology, whatever. if you want to be an advocate for social justice and an educator, you will use your skills and experiences to do so.

    you don't have to be a psychology major. :) as you have so brilliantly stated.

    <3

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