Canons and Ghettos (a preface)

To address the ever present issue of canons and academic "ghettos," I offer two personal and very true stories...

Story #1: Ten years ago, I was in high school. I was the only Black person in most of my classes. I would eventually become the first Black senior class president in that school's history--and its an old school. According to my best friend from high school--the blue-eyed, tall, dark, handsome, all-American captain of the football and basketball team guy--I was the most well-liked and most popular person in school. (I disagree but he insists). I was in all the in-groups and in all the out-groups. I learned so much from everyone in my graduating class and truly grew to love them. I was voted "most likely to succeed" and everyone wrote wonderful things about me in my yearbook in my last days of high school. Some even wrote me letters, expressing their love and saying how much just knowing me had changed their life. But no amount of popularity or love could shield me from those inevitable moments--like when I'm sitting in the room and I hear one of the cheerleaders say "oh my gosh, I was like so scared when we like walked into that like gym and there were all those like Black people" or when I'm on the phone with a friend and I hear her boyfriend from another school say in the background "oh you talkin to that nigger again." Those moments were never surprising (although that is by no means to say they did not hurt) and unfortunately they came with the territority of being the "only one."

Story #2: I believe there were five of us (Black students) in my graduating class. Three in the class above us, two in the class below us, and one or two in the ninth grade. If we all had the same lunch during a quarter, 9 times out of 10, we were sitting together. Sometimes the athletes in our group would sit with their team--sometimes I would literally work the room (in part to avoid eating that food) and sit everywhere. But most of the time, we were together in the cafeteria. We never ended up in the same classes (especially me with the heavy honors/AP load), and we were all overly involved in activities after school, so lunchtime was "our" time--our time to connect, to rap, to vent, to check-in. It was an important time for us to laugh, and also a time to cry when those moments happened--because they happened to all of us. But generally, our table was as boisterous and upbeat as any other table--the qualities of our conversation and the issues that dominated those discussions ranged widely from day to day. Around that table we came up with the idea of starting a gospel group and would sometimes break out in song in the middle of lunch. And of course, we spoke our own language--as any other group in the room would do. I can remember clearly when we were asked "why are all of you sitting together" and I can remember my friend responding--"did you ask them that same question?" (sassily pointing to the sea of "White" tables). Some days we (either individually or collectively) would invite people to have lunch with us, and suddenly lunch for them was an "experience." 9 times out of 10, we had a hard time getting rid of them and would find ourselves negotiating how to reinforce who did and did not have a regular seat at the table--and with any in/out group dynamic--some folks had greater and more frequent access than others. Overall, our space was accepted and understood--same table every day.

Popularity. Acceptance. Segregation. Integration. Tradition. Breakthroughs. Insecurities. Healing. Hurt. Isms. Triumph. Success. Shortcomings. Common Ground. Boundaries. Transformation. Experience. Standards. Difference. Identity. Discrimination. All of these things have everything to do with these stories and everything to do with the continued trouble over canons. And perhaps even a little to do with the idea of academic "ghettos."

Stay tuned....