You People

"Why do you people put your windows up when you drive through our neighborhood?" "Why do you people turn the other way when you see one of us trying to cross the street?" "Why do you people grab your handbag when you see a group of us walking in the mall?" My juniors began hurling these questions at me once we got to know each other well enough for the tough questions to be asked. Well, that's not quite accurate. I had us read To Kill a Mockingbird, which kind of opens the door for frank discussion. I think I was prepared (mentally if not emotionally) for the introduction of a dialogue about race relations. Actually, I think I was looking forward to it. However, what I was not prepared for was the poorly veiled anger and resentment of my students. As the lone representative of the white race in the classroom, I was called upon to try to account for an entire history of prejudiced behavior.

It wasn't the whole class who raised the questions. It was one student in particular. She was a ringleader and vocally articulate student, perhaps one of the most intelligent girls I ever taught. Gina (name has been changed) was quick to point out stereotypical or hypocritical behavior in others, especially me. She and I had lively discussions and encounters that bordered on arguments but never quite escalated to that level. Frankly, I enjoyed our banter because I think she needed to be challenged in a healthy way, and her questioning usually helped the rest of the students gain a better understanding.

When we started reading Mockingbird, I tried to prepare myself for the types of discussions that would arise. I tried to steer conversations into safe waters where I would be comfortable with the level of intensity. However, Gina started throwing the "you people" questions at me in rapid-fire succession. Now, she would have never, and I do mean never, have tolerated my usage of the words "you people" directed at the class. Not that I knew this at the beginning of the year. I was totally unaware of the near equivalency of "you people" to "the N word." I didn't know the connotative impact of such a small pairing of words: you + people = hatin' words. During the course of the year, though, I had come to understand their significant meaning.

So, when Gina started throwing those words at me, I was offended. I mean, genuinely, personally, core-of-my-soul offended. How dare SHE call ME a "you people"? Hadn't I proven myself to be the exception rather than the rule when it came to representing my race? Hadn't I labored all school year to build bridges of understanding rather than prolong the myths of perceived differences? Who was this girl to use those words with me?

I'll tell you who she was. She was a girl who was learning and growing. She'd finally found someone with whom she was comfortable enough to ask the questions that had plagued her for a very long time. When she asked the questions, she was unveiling her own prejudices that were surfacing themselves right before our very eyes. So, I had a choice. Do I react as the offended white woman, which I was, and escalate the situation? I don't think the students, who stiffened at Gina's words, would have blamed me if I had. Or, do I try to reach out to this young woman and help her to learn a better way to approach this opportunity? As usual, I chose the latter approach.

This is what I said: "Gina, I don't know any 'you people.' I only know me. So, I'll speak for myself. I usually roll down my window in your neighborhood 'cause I'm usually hollerin' at my students. I don't look away when I see someone crossing the street 'cause I'm usually trying to figure out if it's one of you. I don't clutch my handbag in the mall for two reasons: one, I don't carry a purse; two, I don't go to the mall. If you want to know why SOME white people do these things, maybe you could ask me again in a different way. I'll do my best to share my opinion with you. However, I don't ask you to speak for an entire race of people, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask me to either."

You could have heard a pin drop in the room. She was a social keystone in the class. Without her support, I was going to have a tough time getting any kind of cooperation from the class. However, I couldn't let her speak to me that way and think it was acceptable. I had made my choice. The next move was hers. Fortunately, Gina said, "I hear you, Ms. Hoskins. The only question I really want to know is why do you...I mean SOME...white people roll their window up when they come down Euclid by Cleveland Clinic? I mean, do they think we're going to spit in their cars or something? They'd rather be all hot and sweatin' in their cars rather than share the air with me?"

I realized that her concerns were legitimate...and deep-rooted. I wasn't going to be able to answer her questions to her satisfaction that day or possibly ever. On the other hand, she had asked the question in a more respectful way. I took that small victory, and we began a discussion that was ongoing to the day of her graduation from high school. She never used the term "you people" with me again, and I learned to be ever more sensitive to the profound role I played in being the exceptional representative of an entire race.