POCC: A LOVE LETTER FOR THE VIRTUAL SPACE
“I can totally get through this pandemic, as along as we still get together in person for PoCC.”
— most teachers of color in April 2020
The People of Color Conference is an annual gathering that can be described in a number of ways:
family reunion;
space to breathe;
a respite from whiteness;
an environment of reduced microaggressions;
a place to be seen and heard;
advanced professional development beyond the diversity 101 experience
strategies for how to navigate the climate and culture of independent schools and the inequities in which the schools are historically rooted
more mirrors than windows (R. Sims Bishop)
Yet, this year, due to the global pandemic and the sharp increase in COVID 19 in the United States, PoCC, like nearly every in-person conference, has moved online.
For the past three years, I have written a post - a Love Letter of sorts - to those attending PoCC. This year, more than ever, I think this post is coming at an important time.
In addition to the global pandemic of COVID-19, our nation has begun its reckoning with systemic racial injustice. The killing of George Floyd sparked national outcry for reform, change, and the naming of institutional racism. But, what was different this time was the growing number of white people, white communities, and white led organizations that were responding (because, do we even need to name that people of color have always known systemic racism?).
White people began calling in/out their schools, neighborhoods, towns and city officials. White people put up Black Lives Matter signs, changed their Zoom names to read something like, “Name, #BLM”, and formed book clubs (so… many … book clubs). Organizations hired facilitators like me to come in and run hours of training and development to get ready for the work of anti-racism. At the senior leadership table, groups came together to issue statements of support and promises of institutional change.
And, with the recent election of Joe Biden - or, more directly stated, the removal of the current president - there is a hopefulness that damage of the past four years might begin to turn around. But, what of the damage of 1492 or 1619 or 1848 or 1882?
That’s what it’s felt like to be a person of color in this country over the past few months — these highs and lows of progress coupled with the overwhelming disappointment that has plagued us for generations.
When news hit that PoCC, like so many, were moving online, we were met with the acknowledgement that this was the best decision for safety, particularly given that Black and Brown people experience racial disparities during COVID-19. However, it also meant that, for some of us, we would be deprived of the four days that carried and bolstered us through the other 360 days of the year.
A LOVE LETTER TO MY POC FAMILY
In the weeks after the shut down in March 2020, a number of PoCC-type gatherings were held online. These gatherings became so popular that we had to open multiple rooms (this was back when no one knew how to use Zoom or even had access to pro accounts) because hosts kept hitting their max capacity. We craved being together. We needed to see our screens filled with Black and Brown faces, smiles, hair, and brilliance. We needed to connect over the shared exhaustion. Some of us felt invisible - left out of the decision making that inevitably also left out those most marginalized in our schools. Some of us felt overly taxed - being asked to solve decades of historic inequities in a single weekend. We tried our best to put together sessions to reduce isolation and increase connection.
Fam, as you enter into this PoCC week, manage your expectations. It is not the same. Nor will it be the same. While I will not miss the overcrowded rooms and need to arrive 60 minutes early just to get a seat, I will miss the heat and energy of being with Black and Brown brilliance, joy, and emotion. Create structures for you to “be” at PoCC — if you put an out of office on in 2019, put an out of office on in 2020. If you texted people in between sessions in 2019, text people in between sessions in 2020. If you met up with friends for lunch, meet up for friends (distantly) for lunch. If you chose a session because your friend was presenting, log in to that friend’s session. If you partied at Club PoCC, grab your nice slippers and dance it out (hey! no bar line!). And, don’t think for a second that I won’t be rocking my Oman Frame sticker-head to my virtual PoCC.
Liza Talusan, Gyasi Ross, and LeRhonda Greats at Viewpoint School, February, 2020
There are things I will not miss, to be honest. I will not miss the ever-present visual of white people taking up seats while I watch dozens of Black and Brown people standing. I will not miss the sound of keyboards clacking during a presentation — mostly of white people who are checking email during a session or, sometimes worse, white people taking copious amounts of notes as a way to disengage from the actual experience. I will not miss overhearing white people say they “skipped affinity groups” because “it’s just not really for them.” I will not miss walking by streams of white people who ignore me, fail to make eye contact, or let a door hit me in the face just after I walked by PoCC who smile, wave, head-nod, hold the door, and greet me “good morning!” I will not miss walking into an elevator with my PoCC badge clearly around my neck, only to be ignored when there are only 2 of us in the slow moving box. When those happen, I often ask myself, “Why did I come to PoCC to experience the same treatment from white people that I can get in my own school?”
And, fam, let me say this. What I appreciate most about PoCC is the opportunity for me, as a person of color, to dive deep into my own issues related to our community. While our common wall is white supremacy, I still need to dismantle and decolonize my own education. As an Asian American, I continue to locate my anti-Blackness. As a non-Indigenous person of color, I work hard to not contribute to the erasure and invisibility of Native peoples in our work, scholarship, and practice. As a partner and parent to Latinx people, I work to disaggregate the monolith that is “Latinx” and work on a more ethnic level of understanding. I, too, have work to do. As you choose your sessions, find ones that affirm you as a Person of Color and find ones that give you new tools and understanding in our BIPOC community.
PoCC won’t be the same. But, I’m going to try to recreate it — the good parts — as best as I can.
Going into this week, know that I love you, and seeing your names and faces on the screen this week will bring me all the joy. And yes, I’ll be rocking all of my disruptive t-shirts (inspired by the fierce Johara Tucker).
Liza, Johara Tucker, and Nicole DuFauchard
A LOVE LETTER TO WHITE COLLEAGUES
White colleagues. This might be your first PoCC. In years past, you may have been prevented from attending — maybe due to budget reasons. But, with the move to a virtual space, schools are able to send more people because they don’t have to allocate for travel, hotels, and meals. So, you are logging on. Or, maybe this is not your first year, and you’re here to learn, connect, and grow.
If you are registered for PoCC, you have access to one of my pre-recorded sessions which is designed solely for you in mind. It’s called “The Hidden Curriculum” and I ask that you watch that before you engage this week.
I hope you know by now that your presence at PoCC as a white person changes things. It changes how people act and interact. It changes whether people feel safe. It changes whether people feel heard. Your presence - whether you are actively engaging or merely a bystander - changes things.
Because of this, I say this with love: your whiteness has an impact. Your whiteness shows up even if you are the nicest, most well-intentioned person. Your whiteness shows up if you are just starting on your journey of understanding identity or if you have been building an identity-conscious practice for years. Your whiteness impacts that space.
Now, people have strong opinions about whether or not you should be present. If you’ve read my work, or even just the last two paragraphs, you know that I’d prefer that your whiteness wasn’t centered. But, given there aren’t limitations or clear directives ( in some cases) about your presence, I’m not going to fault you for being there. The level of brilliance of my Black and Brown colleagues gives you an education you may never had. You are going to learn from over a dozen skilled facilitators this week. And, if this is the only conference they are presenting at, well, then, I’m glad you get to learn from them. Understand this: you cannot make up for 16 years of problematic schooling that has erased our people simply by going to a few sessions. You’ll need to have a real reckoning with yourself. When that happens, do not call your friends and family of color. Find other white people. White people have a responsibility to each other to dismantle systems that benefit them - systems that were built for you and by you. Go to affinity group. Work through your feelings with other white people. Hold yourself accountable.
I was once asked, “But, Liza, how will I know that I’m ready to talk with people of color about this?” If you have to ask that question, you are not ready.
Going into this week, you have to know your impact. You have to know that you impact the space whether you are on camera or not. Whether you stay silent or you chat in the box. Whether you observe or actively ask questions. You impact the experience for your PoC colleagues if you ask them about PoCC and you impact them when you ask nothing. If you find yourself in a breakout room - either here or in a training/workshop - with people of color, acknowledge that your whiteness might impact the small group.
So, what do you do? How do you win a no-win situation?
Simple.
Don’t try to win.
Instead, be present. Be attentive. After each session, write down your action items. After each session, write FOUR sentences:
Based on the information from this session, what am I going to start doing?
What am I going to stop doing?
What am I going to change up a little bit?
What am I going to continue?
Make your PoCC experience actionable. It’s not meant for you to enjoy in the same way that PoC are there to enjoy. It’s meant to disrupt you and the systems you are a part of. I want you to be emotionally exhausted at the end of the day. I want you to know what it feels like to constantly be walking on a tightrope - wondering if you are showing up too much or not enough. Playing out all of your words, sentences, and questions in your head before submitting them in the chat box. Exhausted from thinking about if your whiteness is showing and if so, how much. This is what your BIPOC colleagues feel every single day. Take that very physical response and then let it drive you to do things better for your BIPOC colleagues.
After your sessions, thank the presenters for their emotional, psychological, and academic labor.
LOVE WON’T SOLVE IT; BUT JUSTICE WILL
Cornell West said, “Never forget that justice is what love looks like in public.” How will you show your love? How will you connect to love on a deeper level? What does this love letter mean for justice?
I am looking forward to the day when we can all gather in person once again. Until then, I look forward to seeing you online at PoCC as we advance our learning; take time to breathe; and connect towards our common good.
Thank you to NAIS, all of the volunteers and organizers, affinity group facilitators, and session presenters for continuing to hold space for PoCC. This is new, different, and challenging. Your work has not gone unnoticed!
Peace and love,
Liza Talusan, PhD