A flower is not better when it blooms than when it is merely a bud; at each stage it is the same thing—a flower in the process of expressing its potential.

—Paulo Coelho, ​​Lyricist and Novelist

Plant buds are an early indicator of new potential. A part of the blooming process, the bud is a small protuberance on the stem that develops into a flower, leaf, or shoot. Before they eventually swell, burst forth, and become new plant material, buds are tiny affirmations of all the growth that has previously occurred. The bud exemplifies endurance and is a tiny picture of intentional, consistent growth. While simple and small, buds expand in complexity, breadth, and beauty. We must acknowledge and express gratitude for the bud. Likewise, as we remain committed and consistent, we must remember to appreciate the growth that has occurred. Showing gratitude for small growth prepares us for more growth.

In Chapter 4, we acknowledged the need to grieve racism. In this chapter, we want you to learn to acknowledge and celebrate growth. Too often, people miss out on partaking in the joy of growth. During one of our What LIES Between Us—Fostering First Steps Toward Racial Healing online classes, a learner shared how she was discouraged by the social unrest around her. She appeared noticeably defeated as she shook her head and slumped toward the camera. We paused and honored her feelings. We certainly understand. But at the end of the live Zoom session, we encouraged her to look at how many people had chosen to give up weeks of their time to launch an antiracism learning journey. Daily, we get to support the growth of parents, students, teachers, administrators, and church and corporate leaders who are invested in uprooting scarcity ideology (i.e., steal, kill, and destroy to survive) and planting seeds to harvest justice and belonging. The growth cycle is arduous and slow. And if we don't acknowledge and appreciate our bud, we will give up on the process of becoming a flower.

Lucretia

I emerged from the auditorium of women anxious to reach the sun-drenched parking lot. I'd sat among a familiar sisterhood focused on connecting with one another while absorbing the speaker's encouraging words. However, my introvert self was ready to escape the crowd to find refuge in the solitude of the sun and to breathe in fresh warm air. That's when a smiling stranger, a White woman, approached me with a compliment and a proposition. She told me how much she loved Brownicity and the work I was doing. Then she invited me to connect with the director of her children's school because she believed my work would be a great asset. I was outwardly cordial. But in my mind, I rolled my eyes.

The ask was sincere. But this was in spring 2017. At that time, previous invitations to support teachers and teacher leaders in predominantly White formal learning spaces turned out to be veiled attempts to simply check the “diversity training” box. Most were not actually ready for the necessary investment, effort, and commitment. In one instance, a school with a predominantly White student population and an all-White teaching staff scheduled an hour-long workshop for me to teach staff how to engage with students regarding skin tone, ethnicity, and race. For context, this happened in 2016, just before the school year began and in the heat of the Trump–Clinton presidential campaign season. The teachers were present, but no one from the school's administration attended. Almost half the teachers knew me and leaned in with ease. However, a significant number of teachers were new to the school and met me with distrust. The distrusting group sat with terse looks and arms crossed, a clear sign of resistance.

When I shared the benefits of replacing race-blind or colorblind ideology with “conscious and informed language,” one teacher asked, “Why should this matter to us at this school?” He was implying that because the school enrolled only a few students who are not White, the school staff need not concern themselves with the racialized realities of the outside world. I speculated that this teacher had absolved White students of all normal social development. Perhaps he thought that White children are not racialized and do not observe and wonder about phenotypic differences, their brains are not negotiating meaning around racial identity and social class, and they want no agency or responsibility in creating fairness. Perhaps this teacher believed that predominantly White spaces are incapable of producing racial or social injury.

I shared that when students have language and permission to acknowledge and call out overt racism, they are empowered to help enact change, to which a different teacher replied, “I don't want to teach my son to be an ally because then he might grow up to shoot police officers!” Needless to say, I was dumbfounded. I was appalled by their emboldened resistance to learn. I'd been invited to facilitate their growth, but many of the teachers were not ready or willing. Because she had anticipated that I would need her support, Michelle, a Black mom whose children attended the school, asked to serve as my workshop assistant. When the teacher made the ludicrous remark equating racial competence with shooting police officers, Michelle paused the workshop. She strategically disrupted the tension. She informed them that my father used to be a police officer, quelling their fears that my beginner-level workshop was a cloaked antipolice scheme. One of the teachers, Ms. Katherine, excited about my presentation, spoke up. She shared how ready and excited she was to have a framework, language, and competence to participate in creating a just and belonging classroom and school.

Now more than ever, we have access to great resources and research supporting the urgency for antiracism. However, in many cases, hearts and minds have not been cultivated to produce good growth. In this instance, the school leaders and teaching staff did not have a shared vision and goals. The leaders of the school did not attend the workshop. Without alignment and participation, collective growth is impossible, which enables fractures in the learning community.

As for the stranger who complimented my work and then invited me to her charter school, I reluctantly reached out to the director of her children's school. I presumed that the school director would ask me to do a 1-hour workshop with the school staff like the previous leader or perhaps maybe even do a 6-hour day of professional development. Based on my past experience, I was ready to reject her offer. The previous experience was too painful and disappointing. I was tired of seeing too little effort extended toward an endeavor that requires a lifetime of commitment. However, Ms. Jill, this school's director, was the first school leader I encountered who presented a long-term vision. As I listened to her proposal, I welled up with tears. I felt relieved for the school's children, family, and community. The director told me, “I'm not looking for someone to come to the school, drop a bomb, and then leave us to clean up the pieces.” As you can imagine, I was relieved.

Ms. Jill proposed starting with a 5-year plan. Note that she understood a healthy onboarding process could take years. She envisioned a collective educational journey for the entire staff—teachers and administrators. She asked me if I would also be willing to serve as a consultant for the kindergarten through fifth grade teaching teams, the middle school and high school humanities teachers, and any teacher who wanted additional support. She wanted to know if I could be a guest reader for the early elementary classrooms and a guest speaker for the upper grade classes. Because teachers rely on support from parents, Ms. Jill proposed that we offer courses for parents as well. Finally, she asked me if I would be willing to design an elective course for the high school students. In my opinion, Ms. Jill laid out the ideal plan for a community schoolwide cultural elevation. I was ecstatic.

Before I began working with the staff, they had already set an intention to grow their understanding around the impact of social injustice in their community and school. They began as a small group asking questions and postured to learn. Then the small group expanded to a large group of staff members who organized a book study around Beverly Tatum's (1997/2017) Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? They incorporated a group discussion guide and met regularly to walk through the book. We have included a sample of their book study guide in the Appendix.

Tatum's book offers a solid start for the very reason she wrote it. A clinical psychologist, Tatum designed The Psychology of Racism, a curriculum taught at various institutions. Following years of teaching, speaking, and publishing, Tatum noticed that her presentations were heavily attended by parents, educators, and community leaders. She wrote Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?: And Other Conversations About Race for them. Through her research and background in education, she addresses our reluctance to talk with children about racism for fear that we will make otherwise race-blind children into racists. Tatum introduces her reader to the operational definition of racism and offers a framework for acknowledging and understanding racial identity development and dynamics in racial groups.

When I joined the school's staff the following year, the primary goal was to guide and support my colleagues. The monthly staff meetings were reserved for professional development where I, along with the Brownicity Team, taught Foundations, our onboarding curriculum designed to help beginners gain an analytical framework for examining race/ism in the United States. Over the course of several months, staff members were equipped with a historical, political, and social context for understanding how systemic and structural racism is sustained.

Even in the best of circumstances where every single person has agreed to collectively cultivate just and belonging learning spaces, we know each of us may be at a different starting point. Some of us have a nuanced and complex understanding of how racism has shaped institutional structures. Others of us recognize interpersonal overt racism only when one person invokes trauma on another. And when considering how to confront racism, primarily our thinking is limited to bad behavior—for example, addressing how children behave in school. But we often fail to consider how school is a tool of systemic racism and furthermore how it can be used to deconstruct racism.

How We Started with the Staff

To gage the overall comfort level around talking about race/ism, we asked the staff to complete prelaunch questions:

1. Are you comfortable talking about skin tone and race/ism?
2. What prompts your thoughts or discussions about race/ism?
3. As a child, did you discuss race/ism with adults at home or in school?
4. Do you feel it is appropriate to discuss race/ism with children and students?
5. If you talk about race/ism, what has helped you discuss race/ism with children and students? What resources do you use?
6. How many years of teaching experience do you have?

Data results revealed that the staff's experiences varied. There were teachers who did not feel comfortable discussing race (20 percent) and did not discuss race in their own home (40 percent). Meanwhile, others were comfortable (80 percent) and discussed race at home (40 percent). We also recognized that teachers were more comfortable teaching and talking about racism in conjunction with civil rights leaders and famous Americans. They, however, were less efficacious regarding critical analyses of the larger systemic influences like those that caused the Civil Rights Movement.

Regardless of prior antiracism education and engagement, we wanted everyone to have a mutual understanding of contributing factors to current racial injustice. We wanted everyone to gain a shared understanding of problematic practices to engage in shared problem-solving. The monthly staff meetings were designated as our classroom. The meeting agenda for 7 months of the school year was the same: Foundations with Dr. Berry. Lessons were designed to help the staff build a sound knowledge base and develop perspectives beyond popular discourse and uninformed opinions. Units included:

• What Is Race?
• What Is Race/ism?
• What Are the Costs of Race/ism?
• Race/ism and Immigration
• Analysis of Power, Politics, and Privilege
• Brain and Belief Bias: Narratives, Representations, Stereotypes, Media Literacy

Staff were assigned heart work (i.e., homework) to complete between monthly meetings. Heart work included reflective prompts to support introspection, critical thinking, application, and imagination. Because racial competency has not been normalized, most of us do not know how to critically think about institutionalized racial injustice beyond American chattel slavery and racist incidents shared in the news. Reflective prompts for journaling help us become aware of how we've been formed and informed by racial messaging—in other words, how we've been racialized. Answering the prompts supported an examination of our own mental and emotional processes. Journaling allows us to put our thoughts on paper, look at them, and see where we need the most support.

With a practical understanding of contributing ideologies (e.g., colorblindness and White supremacy) and interpersonal and systemic dynamics (e.g., unconscious bias and privilege), each staff member could have a broadened awareness of self, “others,” and our interconnected society. Early in the process, a few teachers anticipated that they would be told what and how to teach differently. But ultimately, we did not want to dictate teaching protocols. We did not want to offer a diversity, equity, and inclusion checklist—another tactical box to climb into. Our goal was to lay a foundation—to spark agency, courage, and creativity in staff. That way, if they chose to be transformative leaders in their classrooms and school, they would have the fortitude, autonomy, and authority to do so.

One of the middle school teachers had this to say about the Foundations course:

To say I learned is really an understatement. My understanding has been changed—and my actions and statements have been forever altered. I entered the class thinking I already knew so much about race, racism, and bias in the United States. I did know plenty, but I quickly learned that for a variety of reasons, my understanding was quite limited. I honestly think I could take the Foundations course again and again and increase my understanding each time as I work to not only understand the systematic nature of racism historically, politically, and socially but also grow as an antiracist teacher and member of this society.

I was relieved to see teachers grappling with the content and challenging their held beliefs and practices. I was honored to witness their willingness to learn. Even though a few staff members did not agree with some of the information presented in the Foundations curriculum, they attended the sessions and participated. Meanwhile, when one group completed the Tatum Book Study, another small group began. I was invited to participate in one of the small groups.

I was also invited to join grade-level teacher planning meetings. During these meetings, teachers worked with each other to plan lessons. They invited me to weigh in on thoughts and questions about content that fostered a just and belonging curriculum. For example, during the kindergarten teacher planning meeting, a teacher asked me to review a few children's books that talked about race and skin tone. Another simply needed me to be a sounding board for a lesson she wanted to develop on Indigenous Americans. And a fifth-grade team invited me to their planning meeting to act as an accountability partner to perceive potential blind spots.

How We Started with the Students

Seeing and Celebrating Growth

Over the course of one school year, growth occurred. We were budding. The following school year, I sent out a survey to collect observable and measurable progress. Teachers were asked:

1. Was addressing race/ism as a system instead of just individual bigoted behavior new to you?
2. Does understanding the ages at which children begin observing phenotypic differences and mimicking society impact your teaching practice?
3. Do you feel prepared to talk about skin tone or race/ism with students? Colleagues? Parents?
4. Have there been opportunities to discuss skin tone or race/ism in your classroom?
5. If there have been opportunities to discuss skin tone or race/ism in your classroom, who initiated it—you, student, administrator, or parent?

For the teachers who completed the survey, half said that understanding race/ism as a system instead of just individual bigoted behavior was new to them. A total of 83 percent reported that gaining an understanding that children are not colorblind and have questions about race impacted their teaching practice. After our year of budding, teachers felt prepared to talk with students and colleagues about skin tone, race, and racism. Half did not feel prepared to talk with parents about this topic.

And 84 percent of teachers reported that in their classrooms there were opportunities to discuss skin tone or race/ism. When asked who initiates the conversations about race, 47 percent of the teachers said they initiated the discussion, 10 percent reported that administrators or staff initiated the discussion, and 10 percent reported that parents initiated the discussion. The largest group to initiate a discussion or conversation about skin tone, race, and racism were students—57 percent.

Teachers, administrators, and parents are busy teaching, leading, and parenting. Therefore, making time to acknowledge and chart growth—especially incremental growth—may not be a priority. But if we fail to see and celebrate the incremental growth, we will feel like we are always striving toward antiracism, justice, and belonging but never getting anywhere. So I did my best to record and collect stories and testimonials. I documented the stories teachers and parents told me and noted my own observations. I also sent this request to the staff:

Hi wonderful people!

Were you motivated to do something differently (anything, could even be how you think) as a result of something you learned or something that happened along our [school initiative], understanding race/ism journey?

Here is some of what was captured and celebrated.

After parents completed the Foundations course, three of them organized an on-going gathering to continue to foster community and understanding. One of the outings included a group viewing of the movie The Hate You Give (2018) followed by a debrief.

At least two school families were able to get their churches to go through the faith-based version of the Foundations course called What LIES Between Us - Fostering First Steps Toward Racial Healing.

The following school year, What Is Race/ism? was listed as an elective. The course also featured a What Is Race/ism? library offering books and resources by antiracism scholars and authors. The students who enrolled in the course shared what they were learning with their peers and parents. As a result of more intentional dialogue, some students initiated school clubs to support learning, understanding, and each other. One of the teachers in Tehia's research study became the advisor for that club. The teacher served as an intermediary between the students and the administrative team and helped students to advocate for themselves.

As they planned lessons for the following year, teachers invited guest artists from culturally diverse backgrounds. Teachers also requested more curriculum resources and literature by authors and creatives of color. Attention was given to everyday items like crayons, Band-Aids, and dolls to represent various skin tones.

The Tatum Book Study small groups continued to meet.

An African American teacher said that she felt she could have more intentional engagement with students and staff—especially when she needed to address something race related.

After teaching units on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. as a boy, Dorothy Counts, and Ruby Bridges, a kindergarten teacher observed her students comparing their skin tones and making connections to the people and history they had just learned about. Her students were open and informed, not ashamed or embarrassed.

Another kindergarten teacher shared about how each of her students named their skin tones beautiful hues of brown.

Double vanilla, horchata, medium dark sunshine, pasta noodles, White chocolate, spaghetti noodles, peach ice cream, tan, vanilla donut, whipped cream, peaches, noodles with pepper on top, vanilla nut, vanilla Tic Tacs, unicorn, sand, almond, light wood, chocolate chip cookie, and toast

In a predominantly White classroom, these students have the capacity and permission to openly talk about and respect phenotypic differences.

A teacher shared her sentiment about the year-long learning journey:

You have made me feel comfortable to let kids just talk. I don't feel as though I have to steer their conversation in a different direction simply because I am uncomfortable talking about certain topics or issues. You have empowered me and given me confidence to open the door to talk about issues regarding women's rights, the Great Migration, Jim Crow laws in the South… . I have introduced new artists such as Jacob Lawrence, Richard Lewis, and Jean-Michel Basquiat. I revamped art lessons for Faith Ringgold to show how she tells the stories of what and who are important in her life through story quilts. I am encouraging children to make art about journeys in American history which historically are not taught, like the Great Migration. These stories are being researched currently by second graders. You have raised my awareness for all students. I can allow them to explore and talk without me having a bias about what is important for them. Today a boy was shocked when he learned that we have never had a female president. I just let him talk about it. Another student told her group that “White people used to have water fountains and Black people had their own, but they called it ‘colored,’ and that wasn't very nice.” And when her group asked why it wasn't nice, she said that her mom told her this, and her mom is Black, too, and that it was the same water—not White or colored water.

This teacher then expressed her appreciation for the learning journey, one that was intentional, consistent, and respectful—one that was cultivated for her to grow. Neither the garden nor the gardener was hostile. This teacher felt cared for. A teacher leader shared this about the yearlong experience:

[Dr. Berry] specifically developed a curriculum that was not faith based to meet our needs as a public school. Our staff is forever changed. We are grateful to continue our work towards dismantling racism as educators under her guidance. She supports our teachers with curriculum development and lesson planning. She has brought in experts from her Brownicity Team who have grown our staff, as well. She has offered parent education sessions that have deeply impacted families within our community. Parents have thanked us profusely for bringing such a wonderful educator in to help them understand this painful and complex topic. I have been told repeatedly by parents that this education under her leadership has equipped them to have important conversations with their children.

In short, Dr. Berry brings a plethora of resources to help grow our community. We are grateful for the work she does. We as educators have an integral responsibility in helping to dismantle racism and it begins with making sure we all learn the history we were never taught.

We then created an online version of the Foundations course so that teachers who joined the staff (after our initial year of ground work) could have access to the onboarding content. New staff members were asked to take the course so that they could have a mutual understanding of the vision and direction.

Tehia

After I had my own children, I was positioned on the parental side of school and schooling. I began to think about schools as a parent, not just as a teacher. This is when my eyes were truly opened. I had a beloved colleague who bragged about how his children were attending an awesome school. His kids loved being there. The teachers loved being there. Everyone loved being there. Because I didn't have children at the time, I didn't think much about it. It just sounded like a great school. When I was invited to help with professional development, I observed how teachers and caregivers showed up for all kids.

The more time I spent in the school conducting research via supporting teachers, the more I realized what a difference the administration made. They had a vision and philosophy for how adults and children should be treated. Ultimately, I concluded that the administration at this school supports teachers, families, and children in a way that should happen at every school.

How to Bud

Parents, teachers, and school leaders can share the vision, set a collective precedent, and establish direction. Think about where you want to be in 5–10 years. We shared in Chapter 2 that cultivating a just and belonging learning community must be embodied, not performed. Policies can be amended with a stroke of a pen (well, sort of), but tilling the collective soil of hearts and minds can take a while longer. Understanding the necessity of longevity will help you be proactive rather than reactive and give you space to cultivate and create communities, schools, and classrooms where all children know they belong.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s 1967 speech addressed to members of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference was titled “Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community?” The title sounds ripe for today, doesn't it? In the speech, Dr. King continues to advocate for human rights and a sense of hope. He first acknowledges the accomplishments of civil rights organizations and leaders. He then pressed the listeners to “recognize where we are now.” And finally, he said:

The plant of freedom has grown only a bud and not yet a flower.

In 1967, after the Civil Rights Act was passed, at a time when many of our nation's citizens had pushed hard to manifest so much change, Dr. King reminded them that we are not even close to the finish line. Yes, a bud is significant. The presence of a bud means that the soil and seed are doing what they were designed to do—that a root structure is thriving. A bud is evidence of proper nourishment from the sun and rain. But a bud is not the flower or the fruit we are reaching for. A bud means that we have more growing to do.

Reflection and Practice