I commend the Times for at least acknowledging the anniversary of Brown v. Board this week, but I take some issue with the conclusions opinion writer David L. Kirp makes. A quick conversation with the essay:
AMID the ceaseless and cacophonous debates about how to close the achievement gap, we’ve turned away from one tool that has been shown to work: school desegregation. That strategy, ushered in by the landmark 1954 Supreme Court decision in Brown v. Board of Education, has been unceremoniously ushered out, an artifact in the museum of failed social experiments. The Supreme Court’s ruling that racially segregated schools were “inherently unequal” shook up the nation like no other decision of the 20th century. Civil rights advocates, who for years had been patiently laying the constitutional groundwork, cheered to the rafters, while segregationists mourned “Black Monday” and vowed “massive resistance.” But as the anniversary was observed this past week on May 17, it was hard not to notice that desegregation is effectively dead. In fact, we have been giving up on desegregation for a long time. In 1974, the Supreme Court rejected a metropolitan integration plan, leaving the increasingly black cities to fend for themselves.
A generation later, public schools that had been ordered to integrate in the 1960s and 1970s became segregated once again, this time with the blessing of a new generation of justices. And five years ago, a splintered court delivered the coup de grâce when it decreed that a school district couldn’t voluntarily opt for the most modest kind of integration — giving parents a choice of which school their children would attend and treating race as a tiebreaker in deciding which children would go to the most popular schools. In the perverse logic of Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr., this amounted to “discriminating among individual students based on race.” That’s bad history, which, as Justice Stephen G. Breyer wrote in an impassioned dissent, “threaten[s] the promise of Brown.”
I take few issues with the summary of history. I did want to point out that we never really had an effective, longitudinal integration policy. Look at the years. A 1954 decision was effectively overturned by 1974. That’s 20 years. And it’s only part of the story. There were many state cases lost along the way that effectively gutted integration policies as the cases made their way to the Supreme Court. That means all this hullabaloo about Brown v Board is only ever talking about a good 10-15 years of actual policy. For context, we’ve spent more time debating what should replace the Twin Towers at Ground Zero after September 11th than we ever spent on true school integration in this country.
To the current reformers, integration is at best an irrelevance and at worst an excuse to shift attention away from shoddy teaching. But a spate of research says otherwise. The experience of an integrated education made all the difference in the lives of black children — and in the lives of their children as well. These economists’ studies consistently conclude that African-American students who attended integrated schools fared better academically than those left behind in segregated schools. They were more likely to graduate from high school and attend and graduate from college; and, the longer they spent attending integrated schools, the better they did. What’s more, the fear that white children would suffer, voiced by opponents of integration, proved groundless. Between 1970 and 1990, the black-white gap in educational attainment shrank — not because white youngsters did worse but because black youngsters did better.
Not only were they more successful in school, they were more successful in life as well. A 2011 study by the Berkeley public policy professor Rucker C. Johnson concludes that black youths who spent five years in desegregated schools have earned 25 percent more than those who never had that opportunity. Now in their 30s and 40s, they’re also healthier — the equivalent of being seven years younger.
Why? For these youngsters, the advent of integration transformed the experience of going to school. By itself, racial mixing didn’t do the trick, but it did mean that the fate of black and white students became intertwined. School systems that had spent a pittance on all-black schools were now obliged to invest considerably more on African-American students’ education after the schools became integrated. Their classes were smaller and better equipped. They included children from better-off families, a factor that the landmark 1966 Equality of Educational Opportunity study had shown to make a significant difference in academic success. What’s more, their teachers and parents held them to higher expectations. That’s what shifted the arc of their lives.
I understand Kirp’s rhetorical position here: he’s talking to “today’s reformers” and maybe not me so much. I get that.
However, it is dangerous for any of us to package integration as a solution to education disparities if only because the reading comprehension of most readers is, well, reflective of our education disparities.
To be clear: adding white kids to schools and stirring to blend is NOT A SOLUTION.
The effects of integration on black/brown student outcomes is primarily a result of white people caring about a school once THEIR kids attend. The result is better funding, better teaching, better curriculum, better services that black/brown kids tangentially benefit from. Basically the effects of poverty on schooling is mediated by better investment once white kids show up.
It’s not integration that we need so much as we need anti-poverty solutions. And anti-poverty solutions are too often tied up in racial politics to be uniformly applied to schools so we also end up needing anti-racism solutions. All of that is absolutely possible to achieve without adding white kids. It’s that we’ve not found another way for white lawmakers and parents to CARE about poor black and brown kids except to have them sit next to their white kids that is the problem, not the solution.
I have said that fixing schools really isn’t all that hard. We know what works, for the most part: more resources, more time, more investment, equity, and access.
What’s hard is fixing the people that make decisions about schools.
And integration ain’t gonna solve that.







We Hear Dog Whistles, Too: Barack, Trayvon, and Vivian*
20 MarFor a long time Vivian would not, could not, let herself believe.
My mother is an old school civil rights, community-organizing soldier. She registered people to vote in the 60s, became an EMT to launch a community ambulance program while in college, and kept the complete collection of Huey, Stokely, and Dunbar in the house that her child might find a little free-thinking during my free time.
But she could not accept the reality of a Barack Obama.
See, I think you have to have seen just how ugly, how nasty a human being can be to understand how incredible Barack was and is to some folks like my mother. I mean, you have to see a 65-year-old darling grandma of four straight out of a Norman Rockwell ad call your child a nigger when you moved into the neighborhood. I mean, you need to see the actual grandchildren hanging from the hem of grandma’s dress while she relishes the feel of the word nigger as it travels from her poor, white soul at your smart, well-mannered daughter to get it.
You see that kind of thing and it is easy to start thinking that, as my father maintained until the last minute, “ain’t no way in hell them white folks gonna vote for Barack.”
So, I had to drag Vivian kicking and screaming to her first Barack Obama house party back in 2007. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I could just feel that something was happening with that man and I wanted to say I was there. That’s the thing for those of us who were raised revolutionaries but who missed the revolution. We stay looking for one.
Anyway, I loaded Vivian into her nice Mercedes and with each half mile closer to the destination I was glad I had. My cheap Korean import would have been very out-of-place in Myers Park, the side of town where Charlotte, NC’s moneyed set have lived, died, and inherited for a 100 years or so.
There would be no impromptu fish fry at this stately home. No jokes about Kid’N’Play and other kinds of house parties. These people had read the free instructional materials the Obama campaign mailed in full. There were directional signs, hors d’oeuvres; a permit for extra street parking and even a friggin’ credit card machine for donations.
We were not in Kansas anymore.
For the next two hours Vivian and I shared stories about our political pasts with about 15 people. We passed the cheese, demurred the offer of wine, and wrote our first checks for the Obama campaign. As we were leaving we didn’t even make it to the sidewalk before Vivian turned to me and said, “Oh my God, we were the only black people there.”
That's Vivian. Look carefully at the mantle behind her...to the right...there.
She became a believer that night.
And I became a one woman Harriet Tubman for Obama.
I went to house parties. I set up a donate page on Obama.com and spammed my friends. Mostly though I was provocateur in every setting where people like my father expressed incredulity that a black man stood a chance. I told them about how those white folks were writing those checks that first night. I told them this was different, could be different. I assured my aunt, the bible thumper, that Obama did believe in white Jesus and black churches. I promised my ex-boyfriends that they would not have a warrant served on them when they showed up to register to vote.
I translated Barack’s message into Negro-speak and I was happy to do it.
That’s why it kinda hurts that I don’t speak up as fast, as loudly, as often if at all when people start murmuring about how Barack knows he could say something about poor Trayvon.
My folks don’t always understand constituencies and lobbyists and judicial appointments but we tend to have a fairly well attuned meter for right and wrong. And this Trayvon murder, the cover-up, the mainstream media’s initial shut out of it all – it all feels wrong to us.
And our preachers aren’t such good revolutionaries anymore. They’re old or praying for prosperity or both.
Our teachers don’t have black schools and safe spaces to murmur anymore. And even if they did the schools are too far from where we live for us to get to them or to feel safe when we do.
Black media is now more Toure’ than Ida. Page views trump community and your grandma doesn’t know what black twitta is.
So, it’s not that we’re ignorant of the rule of law, per se, but we’re desperate. That’s why we look around for the first friendly face in the crowd to ask, “Please, do something.”
Me? I get the politics. I even sympathize with them. The last thing a black President needs is to re-fight the Civil War with white folks still so angry because he exists that they’d relish the bloodshed. I know Barack does not have the political cover to spend any capital on a dead boy in a local shooting in an unfriendly state. He doesn’t have a majority, can’t appoint a judge, and if white folks stop donating he can’t exactly write a billion dollar check to finance his re-election.
I get it.
And still I speak up a little more slowly, a little less often, a little more softly.
I’m hurt, too. And agitated. I’m as angry as those white folks itching to secede only I have a reason to be angry. My boogey-man is real. He is killing black children and no one cares and I am mad. And hurt. Have I mentioned how much it hurts?
So, even though I understand I have to say that I wouldn’t be too mad if Barack jeopardized his second term with a few words about a dead boy in Florida. I know it wouldn’t help. If anything it would hurt. I know all of that which is why I’d forgive him if he couched it in patriotic language.
America is not the Wild West.
We are a faithful people who value life.
We do not sanction vigilante justice because we cherish the rule of law so many soldiers die to protect.
He could pretend Trayvon’s name is Trip for all I care.
Just…if something could be said. No matter how he said it, I’d take it. We would know what you were saying.
Because black folks? We can hear dog whistles, too.
Sometimes, even, we hear them when no one is whistling.
Note: I said I don’t do personal revelations online anymore. But, sometimes I lie for a good cause. This is one of those times.