We’ve got so much awareness. We’re sick of talking about it. This is not a ribbing, it’s not a colour, it’s not a hashtag. Just think: how many women and children this year had to face the last moment of their lives? That terror. … How can I not do something? (Nicole Lee, survivor-turned-campaigner, cited in Jess Hill, See What You Made Me Do? p. 227)
On 19th February 2020 Hannah Clarke and her three children were killed by her estranged husband and the children’s father, Rowan Baxter. After killing them, by dousing them with petrol and burning them alive in a car, he then killed himself on the footpath. This happened in my old stopping ground, Brisbane, in broad daylight in the suburb of Camp Hill. The deaths sparked outrage across Australia and shock that this could happen. Rowan Baxter was a former Warriors rugby player, owned a gym and was a well-known fitness coach. The tragedy placed domestic violence (DV) back on the national agenda and made “coercive control” almost a household word. As you can see in the ABC news link above, it instigated campaigns in Australia by police departments and governments to publish the DV numbers, and media outlets began pointing victims and perpetrators to helplines.
The saddest part about this tragedy, though, was that it could have been prevented: the signs of coercive control were present before and after Hannah left her husband.
Coercive controllers don’t just abuse their partners to hurt, humiliate or punish them. They don’t just use violence to seize power in the moment or gain the advantage in a fight. Instead they use particular techniques – isolation, gaslighting, surveillance – to strip their victim of their liberty, and take away their sense of self. … It is a strategic campaign of abuse held together by fear. Hill, See What You Made Me Do?, p. 21
On 25th May 2020 George Floyd’s horrific death was captured by witnesses on their phones. A Minneapolis police officer knelt on Floyd’s neck and refused to release the pressure even as Floyd repeated that he could not breath and witnesses pleaded for the police officer to stop and others to intervene. Like Hannah Clark, George Floyd was killed in broad daylight and it shocked the world.
Rowan Baxter was a successful middle class male who posted videos on facebook of “rough housing” with his children in a manner that few felt comfortable with, but nobody challenged until after his death. Derek Chauvin, the police officer who kept his knee on George Floyd’s neck, was one in a long line of police officers who have used excessive violence when dealing with black Americans. Racial profiling and a racially motivated response by police officers in America is all too common. Like DV, it is “a strategic campaign of abuse held together by fear.”
These two tragic events happened thousands of kilometers apart, but only three months separated them. Both events mobilised movements, advocacy groups, politicians, schools, universities, police, legal institutions and communities around a shared outrage and desire for justice and change. Both events have also had deep implications for education because they are about challenging institutionalised, systemic violence whether this be physical or through “a strategic campaign of abuse held together by fear”. They necessitate changing attitudes, cultural norms and the language we use to describe behaviours, as well as engaging with the ways in which the status quo upholds systems of power and privilege. Both events led to a fight for justice and change in the way in which police and the legal systems work, and they brought to the surface what we seek to deny or pretend is not happening.
Above all, they represent a call to action for our schools as we seek to ensure generations of students work against systemic violence and that our schools are free of abuse and fear (whether explicit or implicit). As a leader in international schools this is all the more important because power and privilege mark the history of international education. And, if we are going to bring to the fore the impact of these systems of power and privilege, we absolutely must engage in “persistent self-awareness, constant self-criticism, and regular self-examination.” (Ibram X Kendi, How to be an anti-racist, p. 23).
Nunana Nyomi’s blog post outlining the racist underpinnings of international education is confronting, compelling and disturbing. It also invites us as white leaders in schools to engage with our own racist assumptions and practices. Nyomi reflects at the end of his blog post that like many in international education
I have not done enough to push for an anti-racist agenda. At times, I have been comfortable justifying to myself that I am doing my part to further the cause of global citizenship despite this system being built largely for the world’s elite. Recent events have reminded me that the cost of remaining silent is too high when working in an industry that shapes the education of so many young minds. Anti-racism has the potential to revolutionise our approach to staff recruitment, pedagogy, and racial inequity. Therefore, it is time for international education to strengthen its mission by adopting anti-racism as a central guiding principle in order to bring about meaningful change.
Reading Nyomi’s blogpost led me to listen to a conversation between Jane Larsson (Executive Director of the Council of International Schools) and Nyomi. The conversation began with both Nyomi and Larsson sharing their initial responses to George Floyd’s death and the protests in the States. In their dialogue, Larsson acknowledges that CIS’s pursuit of global citizenship has failed to tackle racism and to champion anti-racism. At the end of their conversation, Larsson and Nyomi express gratitude. Larsson begins with thanking Nyomi for speaking his truth and engaging in this type of dialogue. Nyomi in turn thanks Larsson for being open, seeking change and creating space for the dialogue.
Nyomi’s gratitude made me uncomfortable and reminded me of the thanks I received when I met with two groups of alumni in June about their experience (and that of others) of racism and discrimination in the school. Nyomi and the students I met with exhibited a degree of humility in their expression of gratitude. They were grateful that they were listened to and that the conversation was starting. Showing gratitude is an act of courtesy. However, I hope we can get to a place where expressing gratitude that someone listened and was willing to take action against discrimination and racism is to be expected not something to be grateful for. After all it is the right of every person of colour to feel safe, secure, valued and heard; and to have access to the same opportunities and potential outcomes as any white person. Just as it is the right of every woman to feel safe in their most intimate relationships.
Jess Hill’s recommendations of what we need to do in Australia to address the crisis of domestic violence also provides a roadmap for how we can move forward on an anti-racist agenda. Drawing on Hill’s work, in schools we need to continue with advocacy; actively listening but not speaking for the victims of racism and violence; using our power and influence to stand up for and seek out the resources needed to generate change; and empowering local communities/groups within our schools to define solutions that work in our contexts. Hill advocates for not doing “to” or “for” a community, or applying “my” solution or a one size fits all approach. Instead she advocates for keeping in mind the aboriginal concept of Dadirri:
Dadirri is inner, deep listening and quiet, still awareness… We have learned to speak the white man’s language. We have listened to what he had to say. This learning and listening should go both ways. We would like people in Australia to take time to listen to us. We are hoping people will come closer. We keep on longing for the things we have hoped for – respect and understanding. (Jess Hill, p. 297)
Institutionalised and systemic violence and racism is complex and requires attitudinal and cultural change; a fundamental shift in values. However, as I reflect on how best to support our community with conversations about diversity, equity and inclusion, I am struck by Hill’s account of where the Australian Government’s campaign against DV has gone wrong. Its focus on gender equity has come at the expense of clear, definable targets against which to measure change. Hill notes that gender equity is a generational project – it takes time – and women are dying and living in fear now. A disproportionate number of these are first nations women who are living in isolated, under resourced communities with low rates of literacy, and who are dealing with intergenerational trauma resulting from Australia’s violent, colonial history. These women need help now and the help needs to be localised and contextually-responsive.
Similarly, racism needs to stop and we need to respond in ways that reflect the nature of our international school communities to maximise impact and create sustained change. Changes in attitudes are ultimately hard to measure and they don’t always provide evidence of behaviour change or enable one to address immediate issues of safety. Our challenge will be, like for DV in Australia, to identify clear and measurable goals against which to measure our progress. This will enable both incremental change while also working towards cultural and attitudinal change. If we focus only in the long-term then we struggle to address the safety and wellbeing of individuals who are at risk now.
Jess Hill’s account of meaningful and sustained change in domestic violence rates in communities identifies these key elements to their success:
- A shared purpose with the goal to protect victims from further harm and to consult them throughout the process of intervention. This guides decisions and actions. Equally, the goal is reform in the perpetrator by drawing on influencers within the community; and providing structural and system support aimed at changing behaviour and ensuring a high level of accountability. The latter includes clear consequences that act as a deterrent and signal that the community will not accept the behaviour.
- A high degree of community collaboration where, in the case of DV, health professionals, advocacy groups, social services/child protection, the police and those in power work together and meet regularly to review progress in relation to clearly stated targets. The problem is treated as a number 1 priority for these groups and new structures for collaboration across these groups emerge from the shared purpose and goals.
- Clear and tangible targets that help measure progress towards change.
How does this translate to international schools? What might it look like for those of us leading these schools where power and privilege are inherent in the school’s DNA? Here is a potential roadmap for our work:
- Establish a sense of shared purpose: articulate anti-racism as an overarching, non-negotiable purpose to which education is striving. It is, after all, about our shared humanity.
- Establish structures, systems, procedures and practices that ensure the safety of victims and support changes in behaviour for perpetrators of racism. Have policies that provide clear consequences and hold all members of the community accountable for being anti-racist.
- Ensure these policies emphasise active listening, dialogue and localised solutions that empower students and privilege all voices.
- Designing clear, tangible targets against which to measure change in behaviour and culture. What would it look like if we are moving in the right direction? What data could we use? What structures could we put into place to gather this data?
It is the right of every person of colour and every woman to feel safe, secure and valued; and to have access to the same opportunities and potential outcomes as any white person or any man. Violence – either through actions or words – is not acceptable. In pursuing an anti-racist agenda, we are pursuing an agenda that is about dismantling structural violence against all and celebrating our shared humanity.
I came into international education because I believed in the opportunities it afforded for the students I work with and the way in which we could focus on localised solutions without needing to pursue a national agenda. We have the freedom to be different, to be change agents and we have a responsibility to do so for each and every one of our students and staff. We can achieve much within our schools by adopting a shared purpose and holding ourselves accountable to clear and tangible targets that measure change now, in the short-term, not only years down the track.
Works cited:
- Jess Hill (2019). See What You Made Me Do: Power, Control and Domestic Abuse. BlackInc Books, Victoria Australia.
- Ibram X. Kendi (2019). How to be an Anti-Racist. Random House, NY.
- A Conversation on Anti-Racism and International Education
- Nunana Nyomi (10th June 2020) “International education perpetuates structural racism and anti-racism is the solution“
Other sources
- Curtain Podcasts
- Robin Diangelo (2018). White Fragility: Why it is so hard for white people to talk about race. Beacon Press, Boston.
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