Am I racist? Or, how unconscious bias affects our teaching

This edition of my blog scares me. Often when I start writing, I have a seed of an idea, but I don’t really know where it will go. In this case, I went to a topic that scares me: Unconscious bias.

It feels scary because part of unconscious bias is racial bias. And conversations about race are loaded and tender and volatile. In adding my voice to the conversation, I worry: No matter how I write about it, there is a good chance I’ll do it wrong. Or be incomplete. Or offend someone. Or….

And one of those worries is about how it lands with you, dear reader. I care about my connection with you, even through a blog. If you are reading this, I know my words affect you in some way, trigger something in you. Whether that is annoyance, or engagement, or defensiveness, or connection.

Without further ado:
A number of years ago I taught an opera program to teens with After School Matters. The program was made up of high school students from all across the city, and our class was for teens who liked to sing. Abilities ranged greatly, some students didn’t have music classes in their high schools, while others were in arts dedicated high schools, majoring in vocal performance.

Socio-economic status correlated in the way you might expect – kids who had no music programs in their schools came from poorer backgrounds. While those who were in art schools often (but not always) had better financial resources.

You can imagine how easy it was to fall into the trap of extra helping for those kids who already had skills and training. They were fun to help! They had knowledge and already knew they liked classical music.

I’m sad to say that I wasn’t very aware of how my expectations of students created self fulfilling prophecies, and I’m sure my preconceived and unconscious judgments did just that.

This is called unconscious bias, and numerous studies show that a teacher’s expectations are a good prediction of how well the student fares – not because the teacher was right in their judgments, but because the teacher teaches differently based on assumptions.

So, as teachers, we become better teachers and serve the world by becoming aware of those preconceived notions. We do this by noticing, and interrupting, our assumptions.

A subset of unconscious bias is racial bias.

I recently read an article that said that people are very afraid to say, “I am racist” or “I have racial bias” or any slant on that. Because most people, me included, associate racist with white supremacy and cross burning and lynchings. “That’s not me! Don’t lump me into that category!”, is my reaction.

I feel afraid to admit that I am racist. I want to be a nice person, and I have a fantasy to treat everyone equally. I feel deep shame when I admit that I am racist. It is not who I want to be, and definitely not how I want people to think of me.

We are all influenced by racial bias in this society. It is the cultural story within which we are all immersed, with fear as it’s girder. Fear of people who are different, fear of losing whatever place we have in a scary and unpredictable world. And the world has been especially unpredictable lately.

White people need to grapple with this issue. It won’t go away until we too dig into it and work on healing our own unwitting participation. 
 

So, here is a way we can notice when racial bias shows up:

"I see racial bias as a Part of me."

The great thing about using the Parts language and framework is that we don’t have to agree with every Part within us.  
 

We all have Parts that are less than pleasant. The ones who are critical of ourselves, and judgmental of others. Parts who are selfish. Parts who are, or wish to be violent. Parts who eat a lot, or drink a lot, or do a lot of drugs, or cheat on their significant other. We all wish these parts would go away, change, leave us alone, be different.
 

Same thing with racial bias – those are Parts of me that have internalized deep cultural beliefs, and these beliefs do not jive with the rest of my system, with who I want to be.

Using Parts language gives me a tiny bit of separation from the beliefs, and the hope that I can change them.

For example, this is an over-explained, slowed down convo I might have in my head when I notice fear:

Racial bias part: “Ooh, scary black man with a hoodie….defenses up!”
Me: “Wait, I hear that automatic jumping to concern. I’m curious if I really need to feel that way. Are you sensing real danger? Or is that the cultural narrative that has been shown over and over in the media and news and movies?”
Racial bias part: “Well, he’s black. And he’s wearing clothes that make me uncomfortable.”
Me: “I hear you’re uncomfortable. I hear that you’re working to notice if something is dangerous. Thank you for being on alert. I’m curious, do you think that he really looked dangerous? Did you truly sense danger?”
Racial bias part: “Well, now I’m not sure. I’m just doing my job of being on high alert for danger.”
Me: “Right. I’m getting curious about the bigger picture here. Noticing concerns, and also noticing that these fears might not be the whole story, or a cause for reaction. I’m also getting curious about offering eye contact, or saying hello. Or just staying present in my body and seeing what happens. I’m also curious what it’s like for a black man to sense distrust directed at him from the world. That’s an unfair burden for him to carry.”

Working on my racial bias in this way has shifted the lens through which I see people that are different than me. Sometimes I still might notice the judgments or fears first, but I also equally often have a lot of curiosity and compassion at the forefront.

• Seeing a black man unloading a moving van in my neighborhood – wondering what that is like, to be a new person in my neighborhood. And knowing the history of black people who were often unwelcome in white neighborhoods – does he carry that history on his shoulders? What is it like for him here, in this neighborhood that is full of immigrants?
• Or watching a woman struggling with little kids on the bus. Wondering how she’s doing. Wondering about my assumptions of moms who look and act a certain way. Feeling like this topic is so complex and overwhelming. Wondering what led her to this place where it looks like she’s having a really hard time, but perhaps she is no different than me, another mom who has a hard time with my two year old on the regular.
• Seeing old, unkempt men of various races and backgrounds in the park. They look homeless, but are they? I have to be honest, this is a particular area of growth for me. I have a really hard time finding compassion for these elderly men. Even if they are homeless, do I need to be disgusted, or mad, or afraid, or creeped out?

Doing this over and over, interrupting and questioning my assumptions – that is leading to internal change. It is building my tolerance for discomfort and not having all the answers. And it takes the edge off of my shame for being racist – allowing me to actually do more to work with those racist parts. It feels much safer to say, “part of me holds racist beliefs. And I’m working with those parts to change.”

So, how do your Parts show up and affect your teaching? What assumptions do your Parts make about students of various backgrounds? Students who are poor, or from another country, or people of color? What is the narrative that your Parts tell you about these people who might be different than you in some way? Where can you find an iota of curiosity about your assumptions and old cultural beliefs?

I’m curious, how does this land with you? Does it feel like a cop-out? Does it make it easier for you to work on your racist beliefs?

As always, thank you for reading.
Gratefully,
Marta

Heartsick about hurricanes and violence? Me too.

I’m heartsick about politics and hurricanes and gun violence. It's all so much, it feels like a new tragedy every day. If it's not an actual tragedy each day, then it's the politicians tweeting and shaming and blaming and pointing fingers and nothing getting done. This inaction is having life and death consequences for many.

[Such poor leadership ability by the Mayor of San Juan, and others in Puerto Rico, who are not able to get their workers to help. They want everything to be done for them when it should be a community effort. Tweets from President Trump.]

Blame for suffering.

Well, this is nothing new.

“Women shouldn’t wear short skirts, kiss too much, wear too much makeup, stay out too late, flirt with the wrong people, change their minds, lead someone on, play hard to get, etc”
“Black people should just be respectful, grateful. If they aren’t guilty, then don’t act guilty. Don’t run away. Don’t talk back. Don't be angry. Don't be loud.”
“Inner cities are shooting each other up. We need our guns to protect US from THEM.”
“If you want to live in paradise (Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico), there is a price to pay.”

It all makes me feel helpless. And my (not proud) fallback when I feel helpless is to stick my head in the sand. To grieve privately. Overwhelmed. Drained. Rage contained and turned inward. Rely on the privilege to choose to look away.

And that is my cue to look internally for what I can do to help myself. Taking care of myself renews my energy to turn back outward to do what I can externally too.

All of these external circumstances might stir up our deepest fears, for survival, for well being, for connection and belonging. Witnessing these grand disasters, it reminds us that our world is not as safe and secure as some of us are able to pretend. Tragedy can strike, and even worse, we can be blamed for it.

These fears that show up in the meta picture can show up intimately in our performing and creative lives. Because those parts of us that are afraid carry our deepest concerns about safety and belonging, they show up in our very personal work. They show up in the audition room, or dealing with rejection, or writing about personal experiences, or choosing to go for a non-traditional and uncertain career.

The situation in our country amplifies those personal concerns, putting those fears on high alert.

Which sometimes makes art and performance more scary right now, because those fears are on extra lookout for danger.

Which means it’s also an opportunity to deal with those big fears in a meaningful way. They’re coming to the surface, which means more access and availability for healing.

Here are some steps to take to be with your fears and bring some healing inward. If you like, you can journal about the following prompts:

First step – Notice those fears as a part of you. The fears are not all of you. How does it feel to say or feel that the fears are not all of you?

Second – Notice when those fears get activated. Are you walking around every day with a knot in your stomach, or scrunched shoulders, or a spinning brain? How do your fears show up? Are there particular triggers?
 
Third – Is there a way to direct some curiosity towards those fears? Open curiosity is great, because we want to hear from the fears and all the concerns that they carry. We don’t want to change them or push them or pull them. Just hear them. When fully heard, they change on their own.

Fourth – Be kind to yourself. Self-compassion works wonders. Compassion doesn’t ask for anything to be different. Simply noticing, this is hard, this is a big burden. Extending warm heart energy towards those feelings. You can even place your hands on your heart and say something comforting to yourself, like you might comfort a child. "Yes, this is really hard. You are not wrong. I see how much you are hurting."

Concerned that turning inward to heal your own fears might be selfish? I view it the other way, this healing gives us renewed confidence and energy to continue to do our part in the world. Healing ourselves sends ripples in ways we cannot predict, but those ripples are a good and worthy goal.

With love and compassion, 
Marta

Feeling the vibe of school season

It's back to school season.

My mom mentioned the other day that right around this time of year she starts to have regular dreams about going back to school. Anxiety dreams that she doesn’t know her schedule. Or she missed some classes. Or she’s in the wrong classes.

Even after being done with school for 45 years, her subconscious still recognizes this time of transition as a pattern in her life and has some things to say.

Are you sensing that back-to-school shift? Perhaps thinking about getting serious again after a fun summer. Or planning some classes or coachings or finding a new teacher. Or applying for auditions – that of course, is its own serious season.

Or maybe you are returning to school. And wow, doesn’t that stir up a lot of feelings? Anticipating all the hard work, lack of freedom, less sleep, nose-to-the-grindstone focus, push to grow in a semester sprint. And whether you are starting at a new school, or returning to your old one, butterflies, anxiety, or dread might be infiltrating you as you prepare to transition. Oof.

Maybe you're in the season of life where you are sending your kids off to school. That change has an impact too - more freedom at home during the day, but all the busyness with extracurriculars. And dealing with the emotions of your kids as they work through the transition.

I’m contemplating some classes too. I’ve been wanting to take a drawing class for a while. My workaholic parts couldn’t make room for it before baby. Then new mama life was a big hang up. Now I’m ready, but faced with indecision.

I’m trying to make decisions from my gut these days, with bonus information from my head. Rather than the other way around, of listening only to my head and not trusting my gut.

It’s messy and slow and sometimes it’s a way to avoid committing to any decision.

The choices I’m contemplating involve an in-person class versus an online class. The in-person class has the added value of being with other people. Potential connections and bonding. On the other hand, I’m an introvert and love my solitude.

Of course, being on location means I have better follow through. Go-at-your-own pace with an online class sometimes means there is no pace.

And teacher feedback - in-person class will give feedback. Maybe great for learning, but what if I don't like the feedback style? Or if I don't connect with the teacher personality. I'm picky about teacher/mentor/healer personalities these days! The online class gives no feedback. Less direct learning, but less risk of annoyance. 

Hey, this was so helpful to write down my list of decision criteria that have been rumbling in my brain for a while now. Why didn't I think to do this before, even with something as simple as this choice? Writing down all the factors clarified that the info from my head that supports my gut decision.

It’s something you can do too when you make decisions. The old fashioned pro/con list. The difference here is that with each item I wrote down, I also was listening and feeling into my gut. Maybe you already do this. This is newer to me, and I like the results, even though sometimes the process feels much more messy.

And in case you’re wondering, I’m going/I’ve enrolled in Sketchbook Skool with their on demand class How To Draw Without Talent and I plan to take the Beginners course next.

With gratitude for reading,
Marta

PS - if this article spoke to you, you might also appreciate this one that is all about Transitions.

Managers, Firefighters, and Exiles, Oh My!

How Parts language can help you and your emotions

Practicing - challenge...sacred calling...eternal frustration...flow

I love the synchronicity of emotional themes that circle in my life, or crop up for me and my sister at the same time, or that show up for multiple clients in a season. (Let's be honest - sometimes I hate the emotional themes in my life, because it means I'm growing and stretching and that's usually painful.)

The theme of practicing has emerged this summer. In a recent class, one participant mentioned the word PRACTICE, and the energy shift in the room was palpable. People leaned forward, wanting to share their strategies, their stories, their victories, their battles with self-sabotage, their ways of coping.
Because, as artists, learning to practice our craft is essential, fraught with trial, and abounding with internal and external judgment.

The practice room, our writing desk, the painting studio – wherever you do your creative work can feel like a battleground. 

Let’s take a look at some of the common Parts of a person that might get triggered around practicing:

The Shoulds
“I should be practicing” (said while eating, while watching TV, while taking a nap…)
“I should do it better”
“I should already be better” – this was my most common refrain. Always should be better, always behind.
”I should have practiced yesterday, and the day before, etc.”
This Part clearly has a goal of doing things better, of seeing a vision that is possible, but not yet attained. Thank you for the vision! But often that vision isn’t enough of a motivation, and there is an edge of judgment or Not-Good-Enough involved, creating an unpleasant feeling and resistance.
That resistance might show up as:
Avoidance
See above – eating, watching TV, cleaning the house, answering every last email, taking a nap. This Part will do anything and everything to avoid the job at hand, the thing we care about, working on our craft. Because working at our art is hard, and vulnerable, and we risk public failure, or public success, or public scrutiny. Or being ignored, laughed at, feeling invisible, not being taken seriously. Let’s be real – eating frozen waffles while watching The Great British Baking Show is a lot more fun in the moment. Can you see how the Avoider Part has an intention of avoiding potentially hard feelings of vulnerability, failure, success, fatigue?

Analyzer/Problem Solver
This Part of us is so essential to moving forward, growing, improving. We need the part of us that analyzes and judges and fixes and creates solutions. Having a strong Problem Solver-Analyzer part can save us money, help us trust our own instincts, and just be damn smart and strong. But when that Part of us gets out of balance it leads to more judgment, blame, shame, and just general unpleasantness around the work we love.
This out of balance part is sometimes called:
Inner Critic
Often showing up as a mean, hateful, abusive Part of us, with all nastiness directed inward. The Inner Critic throws our ability to truly assess out of balance. Any little mistake becomes a red flag, red alert, danger zone, terrible, disaster. t the same time, the Inner Critic still has an intention of helping - helping us grow, do better, be better, try harder, etc.

Perfectionism
This is a different flavor of inner criticism, masquerading as a useful and attainable goal. But perfection is not attainable, and striving to reach perfection will always leave us disappointed and frustrated. I'm experiencing this kind of part right now, as I write this newsletter. "Let me review one more time. Let me see if it's sitting right with my gut. Let me adjust one little word here and there. What about the title? What about posting on facebook?".....which is all a great way to avoid actually hitting send. Avoiding making my efforts public. Avoiding judgment. 

On the positive side of practicing we get into Flow. We engage the Problem Solver in balance, with curiosity and spaciousness and enjoyment. We have Compassion for our self as we work through the normal Creative process. We have Persistence and Grit. We continue to strive for excellence, and maintain connection to our core values of being an artist.

Identifying and engaging the Parts that derail our process, such as the Critic, the Avoider, the Shoulds, is the first step to returning to balance and finding more of the fun and ease in the practice room and creative process. Because fun, creativity, and productivity are all very possible! Not fighting these Parts of us, but instead looking at them with space and compassion is the ironic, annoying, and sustainable way to creating room for our creative spirit.

Here's a video with more info about dealing with the Inner Critic.

Cheers to practicing your craft!
xoxo
Marta