A few years ago, during lunch at our school’s all-day DEI training, teachers were asked to fill in sheets with words about our identities. I penciled in roles, relationships, activities, and interests. A teacher next to me shared that he wrote “son” and “brother.” He was close with his Italian family, and they had recently helped his brother through chemotherapy.
Suddenly the 20-something workshop leader stood and shouted “I am a black queer woman!” My 28-year-old history department head then stood up from his chicken cutlet and yelled “I am a white cisgender male!” The auditorium was silent. Then everyone went back to their mashed potatoes. What went unmentioned in the larger discussion were the identities most teachers had written.
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