As George Floyd lay dying on the pavement with the knee of police officer Derek Chauvin pressing into his neck, he uttered the words, "I can't breathe." These are the same words said by Eric Garner before he was also killed by police. The breath, a basic right upon birth, is violently stripped from Black folks daily, and as Black educators we watch and grieve for ourselves...but also for our students.
How do we hold space for the children in our classrooms who look to us for answers, when we are only full of questions?
It's important that we take a moment to actually grieve. To actually acknowledge that there is loss in this moment that we are living. To not pretend that everything is as it normally (whatever that means) would be. To take a moment and feel, within our bodies, within our hearts and our spirits, the pain, the hurt, the anger, whatever it is that comes with grief for you. Because the only way we can move past grief...the only way we can begin to heal ourselves is to go through it.
You can't go around grief
You can only go through it.
And trying to go around it
Trying to pretend as though we're fine
Only prolongs it.
And then it begins to show up in other ways. As Black educators, we don't have the luxury to take the risk of it showing up in inappropriate ways. In showing up in anger or frustration with our students. So it's important we take the time to process that grief. To feel that grief. So that we can help our students through any grief they are feeling.
So we breathe. We must breathe for those who can not. We must reconnect to the breath to remind ourselves that we are still here. To remind ourselves that we still matter. To remind ourselves that we can still make a difference. To prepare ourselves to hold space for the children in our classrooms.