Privilege, Activism, and I

Privilege is a tricky thing. After I learned about the concept of intersectionality my freshman year of college, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Which, mind you, has been life changing in the best way. My eyes have been opened to so much, and what I’ve learned has fueled a great deal of my passions. But it’s complicated some of them as well.

I am a health educator in low-income, underserved high schools in the Boston area with an organization called Peer Health Exchange. Our goals are to give teens the knowledge and skills they need to make their own healthy decisions. I teach students how to effectively communicate about their wants and needs in sexual situations and how to advocate for their community’s health. Other educators teach workshops on how to access health resources in their communities, make decisions about drugs, alcohol, and sex, and to reflect on situations and decisions.

These experiences have, and continue to, change my life. Being in schools and providing students with vital health knowledge and skills that will allow them to make smarter, better informed choices about sex, alcohol, drugs, and mental health, fill my heart with joy. I’ve decided to pursue education as a career after just a year of volunteering with my 9^th grade students. I’ve dedicated pretty much all my spare time to being in the classroom. My experiences in my schools have made me passionate about the intersection of health, wealth, education, and race. I want to continue working in city schools until the system works so that all students receive high quality, well-funded, comprehensive education no matter their zip code.

But…I have my reservations about becoming an urban educator. I’m an upper class white woman. When I stand in front of a class of mostly students of color in a school that serves most of its students free or reduced charge lunches, I wonder if they see themselves in me, or if they see a bright-eyed girl trying to “save the world.” I read article after article lamenting the lack of diversity in the classroom. When I see the reports on how important it is for young people to have role models and mentors that reflect their own backgrounds, I question if I’m the best person for this job.

And yet…my privilege gives me power that I can use for good. I can use my upper middle class standing to pursue higher education to learn how to be the best educator I can be. I can use my qualifications to fill the ever-growing teacher shortage in so many city schools around the country. Perhaps through my efforts to better the education system, even if it’s just one classroom at a time, more young people will go on to be role models and mentors in their own communities.

I go round and round on how privilege impacts my effectiveness as an educator in urban schools. Trust me, it feels extremely strange and whiney to be lamenting how my privilege might impact my future career. Privilege is the very thing that opens doors in people’s futures. But I feel strongly that my privilege and its role in my job is something to that needs to be considered. Ultimately, I feel I will pursue a position where I feel I can make a difference in a place that needs it. Maybe that’ll be in one of Boston’s schools that is lacking in educators. Maybe I’ll be needed in a small town school in Western Massachusetts where funding is low. Who knows…maybe I’ll end up at my alma mater, Needham High, one of the best funded public schools in the area.

At the end of the day, a dedicated, passionate, engaged educator is a vital commodity in schools. I hope to become just that. Maybe my privilege doesn’t matter so much if I can help raise the status of my students by encouraging them to excel in their education. I don’t know. I don’t have the answers. Until I do, I’ll keep taking cultural competency workshops, talking about these issues with my peers, and trying to make a difference in whatever ways I can.

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