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This article examines trends in learning among a multiracial group of activist urban educators in an inquiry group dedicated to the topic of structural racism. I find that deep learning about race and racism requires teachers to engage in risk-taking in 2 realms—conceptual and relational. Conceptual risk-taking involves grappling with ideas in new ways, while relational risk-taking requires educators to form deep relationships with colearners. These 2 realms of risk-taking are simultaneously discrete and interdependent. Together, conceptual and relational risk-taking strengthen teachers’ potency in building personal and collective power to name and resist systems of racialized power and oppression.

During the 2017-2018 school year, from February 5 to 9, thousands of [pre-K-16] educators around the United States wore Black Lives Matter shirts to school and taught lessons about structural racism, intersectional Black identities, Black history, and antiracist movements for a nationally organized week of action: Black Lives Matter at School. Educators in over 20 cities participated in this national uprising to affirm the lives of Black students, teachers, and families. (Black Lives Matter at School, n.d.)

In what has now become an annual week of racial justice action, educators who are part of the Black Lives Matter at School movement engage in educative and political action focused on advancing Black students and families’ needs within and beyond schools. They teach lessons based on the 13 guiding principles of Black Lives Matter and invite students, families and community members to attend educational events in school districts and colleges across the United States (Black Lives Matter at School, n.d.). Such efforts are focused on providing recognition and support to Black students and communities while advancing concrete demands for antiracist educational policy change (Jones & Hagopian, 2020; Morrison, 2019). Black Lives Matter at School takes its cue from the ongoing Black Liberation and Black Lives Matter movement (Taylor, 2016; Watson et al., 2018), while responding to calls from critical race teacher education scholars to center critical perspectives on systems of racialization and racial oppression (henceforth referred to as “race/ism”) within school curriculum and pedagogy (e.g., Leonardo, 2005; Love, 2019; Matias, 2016; Milner, 2015).

The idea for developing a full week of educative and political action on Black students and families’ needs originated1 in 2017 with a group of educators who are members of the Caucus of Working Educators (henceforth called the Caucus), a grassroots social justice caucus composed of insurgent educators in Philadelphia.2 Similar to other social justice unionist organizations, the Caucus was formed in order to wrest leadership of their teacher union from more conservative forces in the effort to advocate for a fair and equitable local urban public education system.3 The Caucus juggles its union political contestation efforts (Asselin, 2019) with common good organizing for equitable school funding and school safety (Stark & Maton, 2019) alongside providing a range of pedagogical and curricular learning opportunities for local teachers (Riley, 2021). Since its emergence in 2014, the Caucus has increasingly vocalized that systemic racism, alongside capitalist greed and neoliberal policies, are responsible for the diminished size and quality of the local urban public education system. This organizational racial justice framing initially emerged from a small group of members who sought to articulate how racialized mechanisms of power and control impact local urban public schools (Maton, 2016a, 2016b, 2018), and this article investigates the work of an inquiry group that met 2 years prior to the first Black Lives Matter at School Week and was central to the Caucus’ initial move toward centering critical issues of racial justice.

As a White researcher who was a PhD student at the time of data collection, I became involved with the Caucus during its emergence because I aligned with its efforts to strengthen public education through radicalizing the teacher union. In an initial pilot study, I observed that many Caucus members were concerned about issues of race/ism within the organization, yet struggled to create space to discuss and confront such issues head-on (Maton, 2016b). Thus, after consulting with several Caucus leaders, I designed an inquiry group where Caucus members could discuss and take action on issues of racial justice within and beyond their organization (Maton, 2016a, 2018). The inquiry group was composed of nine K-12 educators who were Caucus members, of whom five were Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC)4 and four were White (see Table 1). The educators saw the inquiry group as a chance to think through their own assumptions and knowledge about race/ism while pushing the Caucus to center critical perspectives on racial justice amidst its effort to radicalize the broader teachers union and protect public education.

Table 1

Demographics of Study Participants

PseudonymRacial (Cultural) IdentityGender IdentityApproximate Age
BenWhiteMan25
CamilleBlackWoman35
CoreyBlackMan25
JoshWhite (Jewish)Man25
KathyWhiteWoman45
MaryBlackWoman45
MiriamWhite (Jewish)Woman25
PenelopePerson of colorWoman35
ZakBlack (Latinx)Man35

Education scholars assert that counteracting race/ism within and beyond schools requires that educators must first critically interrogate their own identities, worldviews and assumptions (Boler & Zembylas, 2003; Leonardo & Porter, 2010; Michael, 2015; Matias, 2016). Such personal inquiry requires developing stronger awareness of one’s assumptions and beliefs about why and how citizens’ life chances and futures are shaped by social institutions including schooling, the justice and welfare systems, and the role of race and class within such histories and institutions (Milner, 2015). This article contributes to this scholarship by examining what personal dispositions and actions can support teachers’ shifts in assumptions and worldviews about race/ism through the case study of a multiracial activist teacher inquiry group that came together to think about the dynamics and impacts of race/ ism within and beyond their schools and educator-led organization.

My research has revealed that risk-taking is a necessary component in activist teachers’ collaborative learning about race/ism. I define risk-taking as engaging a sense of risk while taking action on critical social justice issues in the effort to achieve a particular goal. This article builds on teacher education literature on the dynamics of learning about race/ism (Boler & Zembylas, 2003; Leonardo & Porter, 2010; Marx, 2006; Matias, 2016; Sue, 2015; Tatum, 2003), and examines what role risk-taking played in the collaborative space of the inquiry group, and how risk-taking informed the learning about race/ism and dynamics of the inquiry group. The research question guiding this article is: How do activist educators employ risktaking in a multiracial inquiry group dedicated to the topic of structural racism? Subquestions driving analysis are: How, and in what realms, must learners take risks in order to trigger learning about discomforting topics? What does such risk look like? Findings indicate that participants engaged risk-taking in two realms—conceptual and relational. I find that these realms of risk-taking are simultaneously discrete and interdependent. This article argues that teachers must take significant conceptual and relational risk in order to engage in deep learning about the nature and dynamics of race/ism.

Risk-taking skills and behaviors present an opportunity to move toward deeper knowledge about, and ability to counter, systemic racism. Risk-taking can enable nurturing stronger relationships with people across racial difference in ways that can support the development of stronger and more humane guiding conceptual frameworks. Scholarship has shown that racial biases and inequities fundamentally structure the dynamics of schooling and shape the minds of many teachers (Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995; Leonardo & Porter, 2010; Love, 2019; Stovall, 2013; Sue, 2015; Tatum, 2003). Scholars advocate for White teachers, especially, to engage in concerted critical work to identify and unravel their racial biases (Marx, 2006; Matias & Grosland, 2016; Michael, 2015). Several scholars argue specifically for the strategic necessity of BIPOC and White educators working collaboratively to dismantle racialized systems of power and control (Leonardo & Porter, 2010; Matias, 2016; Warren, 2010). However, there is a dearth of scholarship in the field of education that directly addresses how risk-taking, specifically, supports learning about race/ism. This literature review strands together key concepts from the scholarship in order to draw attention to the fundamental characteristics, dynamics and difficulties inherent to risk-taking in antiracist multiracial collaborative learning groups.

Boler and Zembylas (2003) develop the concept of the “pedagogy of discomfort” as a concerted approach to learning about and challenging power dynamics. They point out that processes of shifting world views are messy, requiring entwined intellectual and emotional engagement in order to rethink one’s positionality and broader power structures. As such, perspective change is shown to require the fundamentally discomforting socioemotional and intellectual process of ideological dismantlement.

Such ideological dismantlement can, at times, challenge people to reconsider their core identities and worldview. Ahmed (2017) addresses the “shattering” feeling one experiences when a fundamental worldview is challenged and dismantled. She shows how such a shattering can contribute to the sense that one does not belong in any place, trigger a feeling of disconnection, and at times leave one bereft of a sense of meaning and a firm grasp on what is and is not true. It can take time and concerted effort to build a new sense of place in the world after a shattering of worldview takes place.

There are relational challenges inherent to such learning processes, and particularly when racial justice-focused learning groups are composed of multiracial membership. Leonardo and Porter (2010) point out that for BIPOC, talking about systems of racialized power and oppression with people who are racially privileged (i.e. White people) “is almost never safe for people of color in mixed-racial company” (p. 147). Multiracial collaborative learning groups have potential to traumatize or retraumatize BIPOC and it is necessary to be wary of the ways power structures might be supported and reestablished when bringing together people with diverse racial identities to talk about racialized dynamics and systems of power.

Ahmed (2017) shows that telling stories of violence is necessary in order to combat violence itself. However, for BIPOC, sharing the real and lived effects of racism in one’s life holds some personal danger in multiracial groups. Ahmed (2017) cautions: “it is risky: when [our stories] are taken out of our hands, they can become another form of beating” (p. 72). It is necessary for BIPOC to retain control over narratives so that they might decide what, and how much, to risk through the telling of their stories.

Violence is inherent to discussions of racial power within racially diverse groups. Leonardo and Porter (2010) argue that such violence must be recognized to exist, and should be directed toward humanizing outcomes. They advocate for such violence to take form as a “humanizing violence” that disrupts “inhumane dimensions toward new standards of humanity that liberate rather than oppress” (p. 154). As such, the inherent violence embedded in multiracial conversations about race/ism requires the careful guiding toward humanizing outcomes—rather than the opposite.

Racial justice work can lead to deepened relational alignment with others. Matias (2016) argues alongside Leonardo and Porter (2010) that many BIPOC seek to feel a deepened sense of connection with others, including White people, through their racial justice work. Such relationships can produce allyship and strength in movement toward common racial justice goals and outcomes. Multiracial learning opportunities hold potential for creating the space to build trust and common understanding of the inner workings of oppression across BIPOC and people who are White.

Learning about racialized systems of power and control is messy, yet key for preparing well-informed and knowledgeable teachers. It requires commitment to a process that is fundamentally discomforting and holds potential for inducing the “shattering” of one’s assumptions and ways of seeing the world. And we must not forget that there is particular danger and possibility of violence embedded in multiracial learning spaces for BIPOC (Leonardo & Porter, 2010; Matias, 2016). Together, Ahmed (2017), Leonardo and Porter (2010) and Matias (2016) show us that navigating such spaces requires White people to commit to centering and honoring the stories of BIPOC while recognizing the potential for inhumane violence embedded in such conversations and the potential for retraumatization. In other words, White people must recognize and respect the risks BIPOC take through engaging in such conversations. As Matias (2016) and Leonardo and Porter (2010) show, there are positive relational results that might be reaped through multiracial collaborative learning spaces for both BIPOC and Whites—namely, the development of more critical worldviews and the growth of relationships that support antiracist efforts. As such, multiracial collaborative learning about race/ism is clearly a risky endeavor, but one holding potential for the ongoing development of racial justice frameworks and the relationships that might enable their application and advancement.

Critical race feminism and critical practitioner inquiry methodologies inform study conceptualization, research focus, and methods. Critical race feminism asserts that hierarchies of power shape social and economic systems and dynamics. The perspective draws particular attention to the intersectional ways in which identity markers including race, gender, class, sexuality and dis/ability shape sociopolitical and economic experiences within social institutions like schools and prisons—as well as society more broadly (Crenshaw, 2016; Evans-Winters & Esposito, 2019). In this sense, sociopolitical and economic experiences of individuals and groups are reliant upon embedded systemic power relations that strive to reproduce existing hierarchies of ruling and power (Ahmed, 2017; Bannerji, 1995; hooks, 1989; Mohanty, 2003). Through embracing critical race feminist methodologies, this study strives to center the voices and ideas of historically marginalized groups—and particularly those who have experienced systemic social marginalization based upon their gender and racial identities (Bernal, 1998; Collins, 2000; Dillard, 2000; Evans-Winters & Esposito, 2019).

Critical practitioner inquiry methodologies consider the relationship between systemic power relations and the research process. This approach focuses on the intellectual work and voices of practitioners while asserting that teachers should themselves be primary agents in producing professional knowledge about practice transformation (Campano, 2007; Cochran-Smith & Lytle, 2009; Waff, 2009). In formal collaborative practitioner inquiry processes, such as those embraced in this study, teachers gather in groups to explore problems in their practice, collaboratively think through varied perspectives, and develop new approaches to complex contextual factors. Here, practitioners are positioned as intellectual agents who take a central role in changemaking processes. They engage in careful reflection on local needs and goals in the effort to “realign their relationships to the brokers of knowledge and power” within schools, education systems, and policy (Cochran-Smith & Lytle, 2009, p. 86). Through embracing a practitioner inquiry methodology that strives to center the analysis, perspectives and voices of those who have experienced historicized social marginalization, this study ultimately seeks to contribute to efforts to reveal and dismantle existing power structures.

I am a White middle-class cisgender woman who grew up in suburban Canada. I recognize the very real limitations presented by a White facilitator taking on a leadership and researcher role within a study examining notions of racialized power. In order to address (although not solve) such limitations, I have sought feedback from U.S. scholars and activists of color, and engaged participants in member-checking and data analysis processes (Bernal, 1998). I position myself as an activist participant observer and organizational ally. As such, I do not claim an objective view on data, but rather see my research results as stronger due to having built trusting relationships with participants and the organization.

I became involved in the Caucus just a few weeks after its March 2014 inception as both an organizational member and an activistresearcher. Soon after, I joined the outreach committee and began attending most Caucushosted meetings and events. In the summer of 2014, I organized and facilitated a wellattended book group sponsored by the Caucus, and then ran a pilot study examining trends in learning among organization members between August 2014 and January 2015. During my pilot study, and while attending Caucus meetings, I witnessed members engage in frequent side conversations about how race and racism shapes their activist organizing work. Simultaneously, I noticed that such critical conversations about race were most often sidelined by organizational leaders and facilitators. Many members expressed that the organization needed to address issues of race head-on, but struggled to devise a way to effectively open up conversations about race without alienating White members and possibly undermining the central mission and organizing work of the Caucus. Based on these observations, I spoke informally with several Caucus members and found that members believed that enhanced racial consciousness among members was crucial for the organization’s development as a politically viable organization (also see Maton, 2016a, 2016b, 2018).

In response, I pitched to several Caucus leaders the idea of organizing a structural racism-focused practitioner inquiry group for Caucus members. The leaders were supportive, stating that they would like for the group to focus both on conceptualizing issues of structural racism as well as designing tangible courses of action to guide and benefit the Caucus. Caucus leaders and I shared dual initial motivations for forming this inquiry group: (1) to create a space where Caucus members could engage in thinking and action that would directly benefit the racial justice and organizing power of their organization; and (2) to generate enhanced scholarly knowledge about how an inquiry group, which is frequently employed as a method of teacher education and professional development, can support shifts in how teachers think about race/ism over time. In the early spring of 2015, I invited nine Philadelphia teacher activists from the Caucus to take part in a 5-month research study on teachers’ collaborative learning processes in racial justice education. Invitations to participate extended either from my personal knowledge of participants or through snowball sampling where Caucus leaders and members recommended potential participants based on their potential as Caucus organizers and their projected interest in thinking about the connections between structural racism and organizing practices. The nine teachers held diverse identities along several measures including race (see Table 1) (Maton, 2016b).

The practitioner inquiry group was designed in accordance with critical race feminist principles of horizontality and the concerted effort to center the voices of BIPOC and members of systemically marginalized communities (Bannerji, 1995). This repositioning of power dynamics was visible in the identities of invited participants, the horizontal structure of group meetings wherein participants could take leadership in directing the conversation and raising points for consideration at any point within the inquiry group meetings, and the centering of BIPOC in leading and directing group conversation.

Inquiry group guiding questions were: What is structural racism? And, how does it shape the Caucus’ organizing practice? Study participants tended to be passionate about these questions and expressed that they believed group inquiry into such issues would support their organizing work within the Caucus. They shared a common goal that the inquiry group should examine critical contemporary issues of race and put these into conversation with their practical work as activist teachers (Maton, 2016b). Leadership roles were horizontally dispersed among participants, and I took on a loose facilitation role where I sought to provide ample space for participants to raise questions and direct conversation as they wished. Participants also played a role in analysis and writing processes, through examining data and engaging in member-checking analysis processes (Bernal, 1998).

Data collection included 27 interviews, seven inquiry group meetings, observations of two participant-led actions, and document analysis. Three personal interviews were conducted with each participant—once prior to the first inquiry group meeting, once in the middle of the study, and the third interview upon completion of the inquiry group meetings. In the first interview, participants were asked to discuss their intersecting identities, historical experiences that connect to the topic of the group, and their knowledge of the Caucus and racial justice issues. In the second and third interviews, participants were asked to reflect upon their personal involvement in the inquiry group and group dynamics.

Inquiry groups took place over a 5-month period and covered a range of topics (see Table 2), with strong participation by all members throughout. During meetings one through four, participants engaged in open discussion about the meaning and significance of race, racism and structural racism in their lives, their work as teachers and their involvement in the Caucus, and had opportunity to discuss short texts that I asked participants to read each week as well as texts that participants recommended (for information about the texts, see Maton, 2016a). Much of the inquiry group meeting time was spent discussing concepts that initially emerged from the texts and from other readings and media resources that participants had accessed. Further, a great deal of time was voluntarily devoted to storytelling, wherein participants would share experiences and connect personal narratives to the general concepts explored in the group. In accordance with the critical race feminist principle of horizontality, meeting facilitation was loose and participants were encouraged to direct conversation toward topics that they saw as significant and related to the overall focus of the group. Participants tended to take a strong role in asking questions and guiding conversations toward critical issues of racial justice and their relationship to Caucus organizing.

Table 2

Study Timeline

FormatDate/sContent and Themes Explored
Interview 1February 12 to March 10, 2015Personal identity and experiences of participants; knowledge of caucus, organizing, racial justice.
Inquiry group Meeting 1March 4, 2015Introductions; defining race, racism and structural racism.
Inquiry group Meeting 2March 17, 2015Continuing to define and discuss structural racism.
Inquiry group Meeting 3March 24, 2015Continuing to discuss structural racism; Connect structural racism concept with Caucus organization.
Inquiry group Meeting 4April 8, 2015Connect structural racism concept with Caucus organization; brainstorm ideas for action.
Interview 2April 8 to 21, 2015Reflect on personal involvement in group and group dynamics.
Inquiry group Meeting 5April 22, 2015Planning professional development Session 1 and 2.
Professional development Session 1April 25, 2015Observation in context. Provide outside facilitators with plan for presentation at TAG curriculum fair.
Inquiry group Meeting 6May 9, 2015Planning professional development Session 2.
Professional development Session 2May 19, 2015Observation in context. Gave presentation to teachers from across the Philadelphia public school district.
Inquiry group Meeting 7June 16, 2015Reflecting on work together as a group.
Interview 3June 17 to 26, 2015Reflecting on personal involvement within group, and group dynamics.

Meetings five and six of the inquiry group meetings were specifically devoted to developing a professional development (PD) workshop for fellow teachers in the school district (see Table 2). Study participants chose to dedicate these meetings to organizing PD workshops because they wanted to share their ideas and provide opportunity for racial justice learning amongst their peers. Two professional development workshops were organized and facilitated for peers during the period of this study, and while I did not audio-record the PD workshops themselves, I have integrated field notes data from the planning meetings focused on PD planning into this study (see Table 2), alongside artifactual documents collectively produced by the group for PD purposes. It is worth noting that study participants voluntarily opted to continue running such PD workshops for their peers on numerous occasions that extended for well over a year beyond the final inquiry group meeting. While the subsequent PD workshops emerged from the study, they were not part of data collection processes for this study.

The seventh inquiry group meeting was more tightly facilitated and structured by the researcher. In this meeting, I sought to ascertain what participants believed they had learned in the inquiry group, and how they planned to mobilize this learning within the Caucus in the future. Across the seven inquiry group sessions, I audio-recorded the meetings and collected documents produced by participants over the period of the study, including reflective journals, social media posts, and documents collectively produced by the group (Maton, 2016b). There was strong attendance by all participants throughout the project.

Data analysis occurred in two stages. Stage one involved gathering data through the interviews, inquiry group meetings and documents, and examining how the teachers were engaging collaborative learning practices as they theorized structural racism. Interviews and inquiry group meetings were audio-recorded and transcribed by an external source. These transcriptions, alongside the textual data, were coded according to emergent themes (Charmaz, 1983), including: pedagogical learning, relational learning, and application of learning to organizational transformation. During data analysis, I observed that the collaborative learning process involved substantial risk-taking among participants. Data revealed that risk-taking took place in two main realms: conceptual and relational. In the second stage of analysis, I coded data in accordance with these two realms and began to conceptualize the main themes informing this article (Charmaz, 1983). Note that all participant identities are anonymized.

Commonly adopted notions of risk-taking involve an individual making choices that involve some element of danger—or “risk”— as they strive to achieve a goal. The outcome of such choices could lead to either greater rewards or negative results for the risk-taker, and it is generally accepted that there is some degree of precarity embedded in risk-taking activities. For the purpose of this article, I position teachers who are engaged in complex learning dynamics (including those engaged in activism and organizing, as well as those who are intellectually, emotionally and relationally engaged in contentious personal and professional critical racial and social justice learning projects) as inherently engaged in risk-taking activities. However, as I will show in this findings section, it is up to teachers to determine how, and the degree to which, they engage risk. Possible positive outcomes of risk-taking for teachers involved in critical social and racial justice projects include a deepening of individual and collective understanding and analysis, alongside the growth of an organization or movement more broadly, while negative outcomes include the establishment or deepening of ideological divisions and/or harm to personal relationships with colleague and/or movement allies.

This study finds that learning in a multiracial group involves both conceptual and relational risk-taking. In the following findings section, I explore these two forms of risktaking realms in turn. Within each of the conceptual and relational risk-taking subsections below, I first present a definition of the relevant category of risk-taking followed by a discussion of specific study findings. Note that while direct quotations in the findings section reflect just six of the nine participants, these are representative of the broader findings, as reflected in the data broadly and member checking processes. The third subsection puts the findings into conversation with the scholarly literature, and points to commonalities, differences, dilemmas and trends across the two forms of risk-taking while pointing to the challenges of risk-taking in a multiracial group of teacher learners.

Conceptual risk-taking refers to the act of challenging dominant worldviews by considering, engaging with, and/or adopting new or deepened conceptual positions and frames. This risk-taking process requires an individual or group to give concerted attention to ideas that challenge preexisting worldviews. The ideas may be new or they may provide deepened analysis that support continued unravelling of an internalized dominant worldview. Such risk-taking can often lead to conceptual conflict within oneself or in relation to others.

In this study, I found that participants were committed to gaining exposure to new frameworks and ideas about structural racism. They were interested in stretching their own knowledge as well as supporting the learning of others in the group. Participants tended to express an ongoing willingness to learn, including through times when the learning felt difficult and challenged prior worldviews.

A verbal interaction between two group members, Penelope and Zak, in the fifth inquiry group meeting exemplifies participants’ willingness to build personal knowledge about the meaning of structural racism while risking previous viewpoints. Penelope is a BIPOC woman in her mid-30s who spent significant time in the group seeking to deepen her personal understanding of the conceptual meaning and significance of structural racism. In the fifth inquiry group meeting, Penelope directed a query about the meaning of the term “structural racism” to Zak, who is a Black man in his early thirties accorded significant respect by fellow group members for his theoretical analysis of race/ism. Penelope asked Zak to defend and reconsider his perspective that racism can only be exhibited and perpetuated by Whites.

Penelope: So, my principal’s Black, and she’s in a position of power, and she treats specifically Black people differently, more preferentially than she treats White people, specifically White women... So what kind of racism would you call that?

Zak: I would call that prejudice.

Penelope: Just prejudice?

Zak: Yeah, because I want to say it’s not racism, she’s not affecting them as a group, she’s not reinforcing the structures.. Because she’s not affecting the White power structure as a whole.

Penelope: But she’s affecting the power structures within our school …

Zak: I mean, if you want to say the school as a microcosm, yeah, she’s a racist, but that’s the school.

In this interaction, Zak emphasized that racism serves to reinforce social power structures that benefit those in power (i.e., Whites) and harms those experiencing systemic social marginalization (i.e., BIPOC). He clarifies that a Black school principal cannot be racist because although they might succeed in shifting power relations within their school to benefit BIPOC, the school is a “microcosm” that is distinct from the broader power structure and thus does not shift broader racialized power dynamics. This moment was significant in the inquiry group for several reasons. First, the moment supported Penelope is deepening her personal critical understanding and analysis of structural racism. Through asking Zak to defend and clarify his definition and position on racism, Penelope risked her current understanding of racism (i.e., that BIPOC can be racist when they are in positions of power). With curiosity, she sought deeper knowledge about systemic and structural aspects of race/ism, and she left the interaction with the understanding that racism extends beyond interpersonal interactions and is rooted in broader systems and structures.

Second, the conversation between Penelope and Zak also affected the idea formation of other group members. In final interviews, several young White participants reflected on this debate as crucial for their own conceptualization of structural racism. For example, when later asked to reflect upon significant moments in the inquiry group, Ben, a White man in his late 20s, recalled:

[At first] Zak was just like, no. And then he did acknowledge just, well, within the microcosm of your school like yes, maybe, but on a whole, no. You know, I think I side with him on that ’cause that’s not—that’s just prejudice. It’s not racism, you know, it holds no power. But then when it’s a principal, they do have some power within the school or maybe the region if they are an influential principal. But for the most part, it doesn’t extend past the classroom walls.

Here, Ben states his overall agreement with Zak’s argument, but expresses that Penelope’s example holds significance for thinking through the complexities of racism in local contexts. Witnessing the debate allowed Ben to assess how conflicting views on the dynamics of racism shape his own conceptualization. As such, intellectual challenges and debates within the group were conceptually (and perhaps also relationally) risky affairs that ultimately enabled participants to develop stronger and deeper analysis of the workings of race/ism.

In the final stage of the study, during our final interview, Penelope explained how her involvement in the inquiry group had allowed her to evolve a deepened notion of racism. She stated:

Before [the inquiry group], I just thought of racism as an interpersonal conflict between people, but now I’m thinking it’s not, like, there’s a reason for that interpersonal conflict and it’s been formed over years and years of being part of a culture, and being part of a society, and . …I’m saying that I don’t actually have a definition for [racism] anymore …[Before this group] I felt like there was a textbook definition, “this is racism,” and this is what it is. And now I feel like, well, actually it’s much more.

Penelope points out that her involvement in the inquiry group helped her see the limits of a previous more concise “textbook” definition of racism that locates racism as interpersonal and “something that’s out in the open and visible.” Penelope increasingly came to adopt a modified notion of racism as ingrained in culture and hidden from direct view.

Participants remained committed to their theoretical learning about structural racism, evident in diligent attendance at the inquiry group meetings (despite receiving no formal recognition for professional development from employers), the general passion educators brought to our sessions, and their commitment to voluntarily designing and running professional development on structural racism. Consistent across the data was my observation that members were, in general, strongly committed to evolving deeper notions of the meaning and dynamics of structural racism, and willing to sacrifice established worldviews. I observed that this commitment to conceptual risk-taking was particularly voiced by White participants, many of whom, like Ben, stated that the debates and ideas in the group significantly deepened their conceptual understanding of race and racism.

In general, I found that all participants in this study, including people who are BIPOC and White, were committed to deepening their learning through internally challenging their own preexisting ideas and evolving deeper notions of structural racism and engaging in critical dialogue with others. Through this, participants sought to test and receive feedback on the validity and logic of their assumptions and ideas.

Relational risk-taking refers to the act of forming and/or deepening trusting interpersonal relationships with people who might support one’s learning about, and active resistance to, dominant hegemonic concepts and discourses. This involves taking steps to establish relationships that extend beyond one’s current comfort zone, such as through establishing or deepening relationships that extend across significant variation in identity or worldview. At times, it also involves concertedly engaging with the discomforting emotions that arise when in relationship with others. As such, relational risk-taking requires follow through and a commitment to locating and meeting the relational, intellectual and material needs of others.

Participants spoke about how growing enhanced interpersonal trust allowed them to build new and/or deeper relationships. Camille is a Black woman in her mid-30s who grew up in Philadelphia. Prior to the inquiry group, she had not been involved in the Caucus even though she aligned with its goal of pushing the teacher union to be a stronger advocate for Philadelphia families and teachers. In the first inquiry group meeting, Camille implied that she was hesitant to trust White people, and especially those in positions of power, and that this extended to a lack of trust for the Caucus, which is predominantly White. Several months later, she stated:

I was [initially] very apprehensive about doing this [inquiry group], because I didn’t want to be in a situation where people are saying, “I don’t have these biases,” and “I just want everything to be equal,” and “I just teach these kids” and “it’s all good.” I really, I do feel that it has been a genuine experience with everyone in here … I do feel better. Not that I felt like I couldn’t vouch for the Caucus before.

Camille felt increasingly confident through group engagement that fellow participants were being honest when sharing their viewpoints on structural racism and its effects. Thus, she found it easier to trust fellow inquiry group participants and, connectedly, the Caucus broadly.

Camille’s enhanced trust for fellow group members led her to share several personal stories about racism in the workplace. Camille described being harassed by a White school principal, and expressed that this was a common occurrence among teachers of color in her school. She described the effect of harassment: “I can speak for myself, that a lot of, many teachers of color—I mean, some of my friends, feel like they can’t trust [White administrators]. And if they do speak up, that they are always the first one to be demonized, to be harassed.” Such narratives allowed Camille to describe the volatility of the workplace, the fear and emotional violence reaped upon BIPOC colleagues and herself.

White teachers in the group tended to express that the storytelling by Camille and other BIPOC participants helped them move beyond a purely abstract or theoretical understanding of racism. In his final interview, Josh, a White man in his mid-20s, stated:

Being in an interracial space, some of us talked about feelings of rage and stuff that comes along with that … I think [this] shifted my understanding of it [racism]; like it didn’t really shift my conceptual understanding … it just seems more lived and less like this isn’t an academic concept, this is lived experience.

Through connecting with his own and others’ feelings of anger at the lived effects of racial inequity and trauma, Josh came to develop a more emotional and embodied understanding of the workings of racism and a closer relational link with his colleagues.

Some of the White participants believed that they were primarily in a learning role and did not have much to add to the conversation. Ben, a White man in his 20s, expressed at the study outset that he believed he had much more to learn about race and structural racism. Ben tended to spend the inquiry group meetings listening visibly and intently. He would introduce himself during the initial introduction go-around and then proceed to stay quiet for the majority of the meeting. Around halfway through the inquiry group meetings, I asked him to tell me how he felt about his meeting involvement. He replied:

Ben: I don’t know, it didn’t seem like I was that heavily involved almost, which I’m okay with. It’s a lot of—it seems like I said stuff and added stuff, but I tried to do a lot of just listening. Like, I still feel there’s the weird tradition of being a White male, and not necessarily knowing my—not right—like, adding to conversations a little bit.

Rhiannon: I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but are you feeling maybe afraid or hesitant?

Ben: There really wasn’t this fear, I felt comfortable. You know, I think it was just more of—I think hesitant is a good word—because it just feels a little odd and uncomfortable, you know, given my position based upon race and class. Given the fact that I’m White.

Here, Ben expressed feeling “hesitant,” “odd” and “uncomfortable” talking in a multiracial group about racism, because he believed that he did not have sufficient knowledge to add meaningfully to the conversation as a White person, nor the “right” to contribute to sense-making processes about structural racism due to his racial privilege. Ben was aware of his racial, gender and class-based privilege, and articulated that he intentionally strove to decenter himself from the conversation. In other words, Ben’s decision to remain largely silent can be understood as an attempt to decenter Whiteness in a multiracial conversation about race/ism.

However, not all BIPOC participants interpreted White silence in this way. Corey, a Black man in his mid-20s who took a strong leadership role in discussions of race/ism, pushed back against Ben’s quiet approach. He said: “I feel like Ben was one of those people who was taking advantage of the listener role, of like, ‘Yeah, I’m here to listen.’ And I feel like there’s more he could have put up into that conversation.” When asked about how he felt the group could have been improved more generally, Corey responded: “I think more— more sharing, more instigating of like ‘no, you’ve got to make something. You can’t just be here and be a listener; you’ve got to put up something on the board,’ would allow us a space where it would be more discomforting definitely.” Corey consistently reiterated in the inquiry groups and interviews that he thought “discomforting conversation creates the grounds to bond if we’re stuck in it together.” As such, he emphasized the role of discomfort in supporting individual growth and learning, as well as the formation of relationships among group members. He wanted to see group members, and particularly White members like Ben, be explicit about their ideas and take intentional risks through sharing their views. As such, Corey pushed back on the notion that White people should remain quiet in conversations about race/ism, but rather wanted to hear their commitment to intentional learning about race/ism and allyship with BIPOC.

Intermittent White silence may have restricted the sense of comfort BIPOC felt in sharing intense emotions or reactions to discussion topics. Like others, Zak experienced moments of strong emotion during the inquiry group. In his final interview, he said:

Zak: I feel like I was able to—like I did feel safe in the space. But certain levels of the conversation, you just need—I mean you just can’t get to. And also, that’s more of an individual person-to-person side of things.

Rhiannon: When you did express yourself fully, how did you feel the group responded?

Zak: A mix of intrigue, appreciation, skepticism, anger, guilt, sadness and, you know, those points that I think that some people might not have got the deeper idea that I was trying to convey.

Here, Zak acknowledges that he felt a general sense of safety and trust in the group, but that trust-building in the group had further to go if he was to risk sharing his deepest opinions and emotions. He acknowledges that he did share highly personal responses at times and identifies that people had varied and sometimes unpredictable emotional reactions to his comments. Thus, while he did not feel comfortable sharing his inner-most emotions and ideas, he did feel some level of deepened trust in both BIPOC and Whites in the group over time— however imperfectly.

Across both interviews and inquiry group meetings, I observed that relationship development was particularly valued by participants who are BIPOC. While White participants tended to primarily value the conceptual learning embedded in the group, BIPOC participants tended to express that relationships and trust were the most meaningful components of the inquiry group. Penelope was perhaps the primary exception to this observation, as she is a BIPOC who seemed to primarily value conceptual learning. However, as I have shown, Camille, Corey and Zak all cited relational concerns as of primary importance for shaping the terrain and limitations of their participation in the group. Camille was initially skeptical about the degree to which White participants would be honest and truthful in the group, but in both interviews and inquiry group meetings expressed that she felt relief that White participants were being honest and that this supported her in building trust in both the inquiry group and the Caucus as a whole. Corey was similarly concerned about relationship development with White people in the group, as seen in his description of frustration at Ben, who is White, in primarily taking a listening role in the group. Corey wanted to know that Ben, and other White participants, were engaging deeply with antiracist concepts and had something to contribute to the collaborative effort. Zak expressed on several occasions that he felt relationship development had progressed in the group, but still believed that trust had not been fully established by the end of the meetings.

Through talk—telling stories, sharing laughter and jokes, and discussing ideas and experiences—participants developed new relationships and deepened existing ones. And yet there was uncertainty in the relational outcome of the inquiry group, especially at the outset when relationships were underdeveloped. Relational risk meant that participants’ personal sharing could garner negative responses like irritation or judgment, or outright dismissal of one’s deepest experiences of trauma. However, risk-taking also elicited positive outcomes, such as earning the respect, trust and friendship of colleagues.

Study findings indicate that both BIPOC and Whites found dialogic inquiry meaningful, although there were varied trends across racial groups regarding which realms of risktaking were perceived as most significant. I found that both BIPOC and Whites valued conceptual learning about race/ism in the inquiry group. For example, I have shown how the inquiry group helped both Penelope, who is a BIPOC woman, and Ben, who is a White man, risk previous notions of race/ism and expand an understanding of systems of racialized power and control. However, I observed that while both BIPOC and Whites engaged in conceptual learning, White participants most frequently expressed that exposure to theoretical ideas and personal narratives about race led to significant repositioning in thinking. Whites tended to talk about the ways in which the group supported them in developing a better understanding of the workings and effect of racism on BIPOC, and assisted them in translating such theory into increasingly visceral learning. Such visceral learning was often achieved by listening and responding to the stories recounted by BIPOC.

Meanwhile, in general I found that BIPOC in the group, with the exception of Penelope, tended to state that while their group participation might have supported them in developing new language to talk about concepts that were already viscerally familiar, that the group generally did not encourage them to take significant risk in considering new conceptual ideas or worldviews, as the ideas were already somewhat established. Overall, BIPOC tended to express that the development of relationships with other group members were of primary significance for supporting their professional practice and antiracist grassroots organizing efforts.

In interviews and focus groups, each of the White participants expressed that the stories from BIPOC were helpful for supporting their own learning, including Josh and Ben as described previously. However, scholars caution that storytelling among BIPOC for White consumption can hold complex ethical and emotional implications, because the public and narrativized sharing of pain can lead to irreconcilable violence for the storyteller (Ahmed, 2017; Leonardo & Porter, 2010; Matias, 2016). Leonardo and Porter (2010) assert that Whites and BIPOC “enter race dialogue from radically different locations—intellectual for the former, lived for the latter” and that this leads to an “unevenness” in multiracial dialogues on race (p. 151). In other words, there is a danger for BIPOC in multiracial groups in becoming just another form of “utility” for White people and thus causing increased harm for those already hurt by systems of racialized power. This point is particularly salient when thinking about the ways in which BIPOC like Camille used storytelling to express the harm that racialized systems of power and control have caused in their own lives and that of colleagues, and the consumption of such stories by White participants.

White participants have responsibility to engage vulnerably and deeply with antiracist projects. Boler and Zembylas (2003) argue that discomfort is necessary for deep and meaningful critical social justice learning when one occupies an identity with social privilege. Matias (2016) similarly asserts that experiences of vulnerability and discomfort can allow White people to “emotionally reinvest in the possibilities of antiracist projects” (p. 63). Whites in particular need to be attuned to the ways in which traumas may have informed the lives of BIPOC, and enact sensitivity in order to avoid retriggering such trauma among fellow participants.

Study findings show that White people should centrally value and strive to connect in meaningful ways with BIPOC and place high value on the relational aspects of learning and risk-taking in groups. As Corey points out, it is not enough for Whites to just sit back and listen (although they must), but they must simultaneously strive to open and reveal themselves through their work with BIPOC. Such trustbuilding, as Camille points out, is fundamental to the learning of individuals and the potency of the group broadly. Study results indicate that it is worthwhile for White people to more deeply value and commit themselves to forming deep, productive and trusting relationships with BIPOC while engaged in collaborative multiracial antiracist work.

The ethical difficulties inherent in Whites and BIPOC talking together about race/ism might be mitigated if White people approach such conversations with vulnerability and an openness to risking previous notions of hegemony and power dynamics. Further, Matias (2016) shows that ethical difficulties may be diminished if BIPOC offer such stories of their own volition, and believe that the risk embedded in offering such stories supports worthwhile conceptual and relational growth among listeners/learners. Indeed, BIPOC personal narrative and storytelling can provide access to a “humanizing love” that bonds White people and BIPOC more tightly in relationship with one another (Matias, 2016).

It is notable that while several BIPOC like Zak and Corey expressed some hesitation about the true depth of trust and relationship established in the group, overall the BIPOC in the group, including Camille, Corey and Zak, tended to express that they felt the relationships built through the inquiry group were still meaningful and important for their trust in colleagues and the organizing power of the Caucus grassroots organization. Humanizing desires seemed to motivate continued efforts to build bridges across raced identities—even when such relationships felt risky. Leonardo and Porter (2010) observe: “It is the risk that comes with violence but one worth taking if educators plan to shift the standards of humanity” (p. 151).

I think the discomfort is something that is happening internally that we have to deal with. And the only way you can deal with it [is] with other people who would draw it out. So, through that, and through the sharing, that it becomes—you’re able to feel on what it is that you’re really ignoring, and then begin to work on it. But you can only do that by expressing and sharing with other people. (Corey)

I have learned the radical importance of vulnerability—that is, to be willing to risk feeling pain, to even find beauty in the pain, in order to love humanity, and thus myself, more. (Matias, 2016, p. 57)

If activist teachers are to reshape internalized and structural systems of racialized power and control, then they must take risks in shifting their worldviews while intensifying the relational elements that support collective change-making efforts. Such risk-taking is closely bound up in processes of engaging discomfort and expressing vulnerability, as Corey, an inquiry group participant, argues alongside Cheryl Matias (2016).

In this article, I have argued that deep collaborative learning requires risk-taking in both conceptual and relational realms. These realms are intimately intertwined, and together may allow educators to experience ideational shifts in worldviews, the development of new and deepened relationships that can hold personal and strategic value, and the application of such risky ideas and relationships into tangible activist change-making efforts. Risk-taking can create space for educators to form deep and productive learning-centered relationships with colleagues, make transformative shifts in their thinking, and change their practice in local contexts. Such risks may unsettle conceptions of self and others, and may shift how educators conceptualize their personal relationships to broader organizations and institutions, including schools and grassroots activist organizations. Risk-taking can allow educators to transform the terrain of what seems and is possible.

In the initial stages of this project, some members of the broader educator organization expressed hesitation and resistance to talking about race/ism within and beyond the Caucus. However, it is worth noting that the centering of a conversation about the nature and dynamics of race/ism has led to significant shifts both within the Caucus itself (Maton, 2018) as well as in strengthening the nationwide organizing against racism in the public education movement, in part visible in the Black Lives Matter in School Week of Action. The fear of having such critical conversations about race could have easily derailed the subsequent effort toward racial justice-oriented change in the inquiry group and Caucus.

The alignment of conceptual and relational risk-taking among the group of educators in this study has been a powerful catalyst for change. This has been most saliently indicated longitudinally by the ongoing commitment inquiry group members have shown one another and their racial justice work in the six years since the completion of this inquiry group and study. To date, many of the core participants in the inquiry group have continued to work together on a wide variety of racial justice initiatives within the Caucus and beyond, including organizing a racial justice committee, partnering to organize regional conferences geared toward K-12 educators on curricular and pedagogical approaches to teaching Black history, and perhaps most famously through partnering with others to develop and advance the prototype for the now well-known national Black Lives Matter at School Week.5

The U.S. public education system needs teachers who recognize the salience of race/ ism in shaping the lives of students and the dynamics of schooling (Love, 2019). This study has shown that risk-taking in relationships and conceptual realms can support educators in building stronger knowledge bases and ties with one another. Through engaging in such risk-taking, teachers may strengthen their conceptual understanding and collective ability to work together to counter racist trends and structures. Teachers must employ conceptual and relational risk-taking as ground-level work in the effort to trigger change within and beyond schools and their grassroots organizations.

Deep systemic shifts cannot happen solely through isolated individualized work. As this study has shown, risk-taking in groups is a fundamental component of building a deepened knowledge base and stronger relationships that can support enhanced collective power. In other words, conceptual and relational shifts require collective spaces where people work together toward similar system change goals. System shifts require collective bonding and new visions for a more just world. This collaborative educational work constitutes a true social movement—the collective movement toward the common good and a new sociopolitical outcome.

1.

Note that Philadelphia Caucus members built on the work of Seattle educators, who led the initial Black Lives Matter at School day-long action in 2017 (Morrison, 2019).

2.

To provide some geographic context, Philadelphia has high rates of racial segregation, similar to broader U.S. neighborhood trends (Gadsden et al., 1996). Meanwhile, the city’s school district has long faced austerity budgets and inequitable funding patterns compared with neighboring predominantly White school districts (DeJarnatt, 2004; Steinberg & Quinn, 2013). Like many other districts across the nation and abroad, the city’s school district embraces market-driven efficiency and accountability principles, and continues to privatize public schools and standardize curriculum and assessment as it strives to achieve these ends (Hursh, 2004; Kelley, 2015; Popp, 2014; Timberlake et al., 2017).

3.

For more on social justice unionism, see: Brown and Stern (2018); Dyke and Bates (2019); Shiller and BMORE Caucus (2019); Stark (2019); and Weiner (2012). For more on teacher activism, see: Niesz (2021); Quinn and Carl (2015).

4.

The term BIPOC originated in activist discourse out of concerns that the term people of color (POC) inaccurately conflates the experiences of Black and Indigenous peoples with other racialized groups. Thus, BIPOC seeks to draw attention to the unique dynamics and histories of anti-Black and anti-Indigenous sentiments, policies and oppression. Please note that no study participants identify as Indigenous.

5.

It is worth noting that the Black Lives Matter at School movement continues to shift and adapt over time, and since this study was conducted. For example, a common criticism of African American History Month, which might be similarly levied against the Black Lives Matter at School Week, is that a short annual period of time dedicated to antiracism is ineffective at countering broader racist systems and structures. In response, the Black Lives Matter at School movement has declared 2020-2021, “A Year of Purpose.” As such, this adaptation allows the movement to center antiracist and Black-centered curriculum throughout the school year. The movement has embraced this and other adaptations, enabling it to stay relevant in relation to current events and the Black Lives Matter movement and campaigns.

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