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THE LEFTOVER KIDS: CENTERING BLACK GIRLS’ STORIES OF OVERDISCIPLINE WITHIN
ECOLOGICAL SYSTEMS USING A YOUTH PARTICIPATORY ACTION RESEARCH APPROACH
BY
JADYN HARRIS
DISSERTATION
Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Curriculum and Instruction
in the Graduate College of the
University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, 2022
Urbana, Illinois
Doctoral Committee:
Associate Professor Stephanie Sanders-Smith, Chair
Professor Rochelle Gutierrez
Associate Professor Jorge Lucero
Professor Michaelene Ostrosky
Professor David Stovall, University of Illinois Chicago
ii
ABSTRACT
Black girls in United States schools face discipline at inflated rates over their white peers. While
Black girls are suspended out of school six times the rate of white girls (Baumle, 2018), they are
also criminalized for trauma responses or mental health issues far more frequently than they are
offered treatment services (Marston et al., 2012). Additionally, when Black girls demonstrate
qualities such as self-advocacy, agency, resistance, and prioritization of their personal,
academic, familial, and professional needs, these acts are frequently read by authority figures
as defiance, apathy, or deviance, resulting in further surveillance and punitive measures
(Baumle, 2018; Love, 2016, 2019; Solorzano & Bernal, 2001). This consistent pattern of
overdisciplining for Black girls results in their removal from educational spaces at alarming
rates. Overdiscipline not only distances them from their school environments but from their
peers. Further, regular overdisciplining has the potential to affect how Black girls view
themselves.
This five-month youth participatory action research (YPAR) study focused on three Black
teenage girls who were persistently overdisciplined in school. Throughout the project,
participants explored their identity and experiences of overdiscipline through storytelling and
the examination of childhood photographs. Participants drove most decision-making and goal-
setting for the project. During the data-collection process, they learned about the four aspects
of viewing and assigning identity – natural, institutional, discursive, and affinity (Gee, 2000) –
and considered how these identity markers applied to their internal mindsets. They analyzed
their past interactions with schools, teachers and other staff members, peers, and family to
iii
interrogate perceived identity in relation to these interactions and the discipline they received,
and they made recommendations for how school discipline policy should be changed.
This study builds on the extant research of Love (2013, 2016, 2019), Brown (2009,
2013), Butler (2018), Meiners (2007, 2011, 2015, 2016), Reynolds (2019), Taaffe (2016), Wun
(2016a, 2016b), and others by exploring the messages that Black girls internalize and how
overdiscipline shapes the way Black girls view themselves. Using storytelling and analysis, I
expand on the work of Bronfenbrenner (1979) and Spencer et al. (1997) to investigate the
structures of risk and support in Black girls’ ecological systems.
iv
This work is dedicated to
Indigo, Samara, and Audri
for their vulnerability in sharing their stories.
These names have been changed to protect their privacy.
v
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Above and before anything else, the three participants in this study should be honored
with the highest level of gratitude for the time, energy, and candor they contributed to this
work. They wanted the stories in this manuscript to be heard. They wanted their questions to
be answered. They wanted their suggestions to be taken seriously: for people in power to sit
and think about the consequences of the policies and daily enforcement of violence against
their bodies, psyches, and souls that occurred during their tenure in public school.
So, I begin
by issuing their call-to-action first: please read their stories and the discussion (Chapters 5-8)
thoughtfully, and then take action to make lasting change.
I think anyone who has been through a process like this will say that pursuing a
doctorate changes you. For me, it altered how I thought of myself and how I functioned on a
fundamental level. I moved to the Champaign-Urbana area from Dallas in August of 2016 with
my small family of cats and dogs but knowing no one in town, and I leave in July of 2022
having gained friends, colleagues, and a new (human) family.
More happened in my life during these six years than in the twenty before. I gained
lifelong friends. I discovered and fell in love with Chicago. I beat breast cancer in 2019. I met
my future wife, and we were married in 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic. I discovered that
I have ADHD and completely reassessed how I think, function, and process – well, everything. I
attended a ten-day silent meditation retreat and came out the other side having discovered
that I have greater strength of perseverance than I realized. I changed my research focus, and
then I changed it again. Then I changed it again. I deeply contemplated my positionality as a
white, middle-class lesbian raised in a violent home full of mental instability, educated to be
vi
“liberal” in a highly segregated, wealthy area, and the incredibly complicated and mixed
messages this left me to sift through.
In all this, I completed my dissertation. Part of my educational and research philosophy
is that no one and nothing operates in a vacuum, and while I am proud of my
accomplishments, there are so many people who have helped me get to this point. I’m sure I
have missed some, and I hope those people will forgive me.
First and foremost, thank you to my wife, Korina, and your loving family who have
embraced and supported me. I am so grateful to have you in my life. I have had to lean on you
more than is fair, and you have been so gracious. Thank you for being real with me and for
allowing me to bounce ideas off you at crazy hours of the day and night. Thank you for loving
my babies. Your smile lights my whole world.
Stephanie Sanders-Smith, you will forever have my gratitude as the most supportive
advisor and friend a grad student could possibly ask for. I honestly don’t know what I would do
without you. Your professional guidance has been invaluable. You take your job very
personally, and your “Smithsonians” are the better for it.
Carrie, Sanchari, and Melanie, you are my best friends. Thank you for being sounding
boards, commiserators, and partners in crime. For getting me through cancer. For lifting me
up. I hope I have been as good to you as you have been to me. Dissertations are, perhaps,
divisive for relationships, and it takes a lot of work to maintain friendships while also doing this
work “successfully.” You three did not let me go. I love you.
To My Family: Zonia, Mama, Daddy, Grammy & Poppy, Lynnie, and Vanessa. People
are who they are partially because of how they were raised and who they were raised with. I
vii
have been strengthened and supported by each of you. Zonia – you and I against the world, I
will always love you and back you up, my sister. Thank you for being you, for helping me see
myself, for being my “first student,” and for helping me remember. Thank you for the LONG
and stimulating conversations. Mama – thank you for instilling my heart with joy, even when
you were not feeling it yourself. Thank you for teaching me empathy. Daddy – thank you for
teaching me the joy of reading, to know what excellence looks like, and to never settle for less.
Grammy and Poppy, who are no longer with us – you were my stability and my definition of
love. I hope I have made you proud. Lynnie – you were the first person I ever came out to.
Thank you for being that safe for me. Vanessa, my cousin – I love you so, so much. I was
sixteen when you were born, and you were the first child besides my sister that I truly learned
to love. I cherish you so much.
I would like to thank my incredible dissertation committee for making themselves
available, not just in reading and critiquing this work, but during the entire process from start to
finish. Rochelle Gutiérrez – you have been an inspiration to me through the years, and I have
taken so much to heart watching you teach. Thank you for being honest and asking the hard
questions, for pushing me to question, pushing me to see beyond my boundaries, pushing me
always in my thinking. Dave Stovall – I travelled to Chicago each week to take your class
because you are amazing. Thank you for always giving me straight answers, being willing to
Zoom with me and help me work through tough problems, and most importantly, helping me
deeply examine my positionality. Jorge Lucero, my art connection – you inspired me to look at
“art” and artfulness in new ways. Thank you for your enthusiasm! You were a light for me
during this long process. Micki Ostrosky – you jumped onto this project near the end when I
viii
suddenly decided that changing my framework was a good idea, and you helped me wrap my
brain around it. Thank you for your willingness and generosity.
This work was aided by the transcription efforts of Adriana Fernandez, my
undergraduate research assistant during the last semester. Adriana, your passion as you
attacked the data was infectious, and I enjoyed collaborating with you. I hope the experience
was helpful for you and that you consider research in your future.
Mitzi Koeberlein, your title should be rewritten as Queen Office Goddess of All
Elements of Educational Import. Know that I stopped by your office sometimes just to say, “hi”
because you are wonderful, and when I come to town, I will continue this practice.
During the first semester of the pandemic, we formed various Zoom writing groups and
support groups. It was in this period that I was working through my literature and methods.
Yingbin Zhang, thank you for helping me see more clearly through the maze of my literature.
You may not realize how grateful I am to you or how often I think of you, but every time I
imagine my “wall of Post-Its,” your face is there, too.
The list of friends and colleagues who kept me honest with myself is probably too long
to name, but they include Dr. Francena Turner, Dr. Dori Harrison, Dr. Brittany Frieson Davis,
Angelica Taylor, and Dr. Mary Lyons. You are all so busy with your own lives and families and
the world, and words on a page are not enough to show appreciation for the time you took to
work with me. I hope to show my gratitude in person soon.
I arrived in Illinois with four beautiful senior animals – Boo, Tiki, Howler, and Lucy,
knowing that I would likely not leave with all of them. They have showered me with
unconditional love and cuddles, quite literally licked away tears, nursed me through cancer,
ix
and stuck by my side for more than a third of my life (and half my adult life). Our cats, Boo and
Tiki, are now sixteen years old, and Howler is thirteen. Sadly, we lost our sweet Lucy Love at
the beginning of this year, and so we find ourselves with an open position – “Junior Assistant
Cuddlebug” – and we’ll begin the search for candidates in the next few months. These
incredible balls of love and joy just live to be with us, and they are forced to mold themselves
to our lives. I cannot wait to be more “present” in their last years.
The incredible cancer team at the Mills Cancer Center in Urbana, Illinois gave me
incredible care. They were kind and thoughtful during a time when I could have been
panicking. I can say, three years later, that I am cancer-free because of their expertise and
diligence. Dr. Higham (surgery), Dr. Rowland (oncology), and Dr. Barnett (radiology oncology),
you have my gratitude.
Last but not least, I want to recognize and appreciate Dr. Liora Bresler, without whose
inspiring research and mentorship I would not be here. When I was pursuing my master’s
degree in Music Education at Southern Methodist University, I read “The Subservient, Co-
Equal, Affective, and Social Integration Styles and their Implications for the Arts” (Bresler,
1995). Liora’s assessment of the ways in which the arts were integrated into school curricula –
to varying effects – caused me to take a hard look at mechanisms by which curriculum and
instruction were used as means to an end. It was then that I realized that my education needed
to go farther. I contacted Liora, and she invited me to have a phone conversation. This resulted
in her inviting me to visit campus. The rest, as they say, is history. I was lucky to have Liora on
my early research committee before she retired from the University of Illinois in 2018.
x
Liora – to be in your classes was to experience a whole different world of education.
You believed in small, packed rooms, which made many of us uncomfortable, but we got to
know each other, and we all hung on your every word. The first couple of weeks was always a
learning curve as we got to know the nuances of your thick Israeli accent and hieroglyphic
chalkboard writing – ALL CAPS – that trickled
DOWN
THE B
O
A
R
D
AS YOU WROTE
WHILE
LOOKING AT US
WITH
INTEREST.
There was always food. There was always laughter. There was always research. There
were no excuses for shoddy work. But there was always grace. Thank you, Liora, for catalyzing
my research career. I know that I am not the first, nor will I be the last, that you have inspired
through your passion and excellence.
xi
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION……………………………………………………………………...
1
CHAPTER 2: REVIEW OF LITERATURE…………………………………………………………….
12
CHAPTER 3: FRAMEWORKS………………………………………………………………………..
36
CHAPTER 4: RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY……………………………………...
50
CHAPTER 5: AUDRI…………………………………………………………………………………..
83
CHAPTER 6: SAMARA……………………………………………………………………………….
119
CHAPTER 7: INDIGO………………………………………………………………………………...
171
CHAPTER 8: DISCUSSION…………………………………………………………………………..
214
REFERENCES………………………………………………………………………………………….
240
APPENDIX A ………………………………………………………………………………………….
260
APPENDIX B ………………………………………………………………………………………….
261
APPENDIX C ………………………………………………………………………………………….
263
APPENDIX D ………………………………………………………………………………………….
268
APPENDIX E ………………………………………………………………………………………….
271
APPENDIX F ………………………………………………………………………………………….
273
APPENDIX G …………………………………………………………………………………………
276
APPENDIX H ………………………………………………………………………………………….
277
APPENDIX I …………………………………………………………………………………………..
278
APPENDIX J ………………………………………………………………………………………….
283
1
CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION
In the winter of 2018, I conducted my early research study on mindfulness with a fifth-
grade class. In this classroom I met a pair of twin boys named Trey and Theo (Harris & Sanders-
Smith, 2020). Theo was quiet and contemplative, and he lit up when Trey asked if he could
have one of my pretty purple pens. I gave him two – one for each of them. The twins, who are
Black, were frequently in trouble and both were suspended twice during the two months that I
worked with their class. Trey was loud and boisterous and vocally protested the disciplinary
actions that the teacher used to control them as well as the lessons that he did not feel
resonated with him. Theo’s typical response to discipline was to say, “I don’t care” followed by
a complete shutdown of all his class work and then to engage in small efforts to disrupt the
class. Theo’s desk was purposely placed next to the door at the back of the classroom, away
from the other students.
One morning, I arrived to find Theo sitting alone in the hallway. His back was to the
wall, and his legs were bent so that he could rest his arms on his knees (Figure 1.1). Theo’s
head was bent forward in a pose of frustrated gloom. This was not the first time, nor would it
be the last, that I would find Theo removed from his classroom. In fact, many of Theo’s Black
classmates, including his brother, found themselves on the wrong side of the classroom door
on a regular basis. But, because Trey and Theo resisted the routines and practices in their
classroom most often and in ways that were viewed as disruptive by their white teacher and
administrators, the twins were disciplined most often.
2
Figure 1.1
"Theo, on the Wrong Side of the Wall"
Note: photo taken by Jadyn Laixely
While the boys did not have opportunities in their classwork to display their intelligence
in ways that satisfied them, Theo was artistically motivated, and he found connection in the
mandala art project that we did for several weeks during our study. When I admired his finished
product, I was astonished to find that Theo had tested each color on the edges of his paper
before committing them to the final artwork. Though Theo had given up doing any schoolwork
at all by the time my two-month study was over, he was still giving his best to the artistic work
he was doing with me. From this example, it seemed to me that Theo was not disinterested in
3
doing work but was instead disinterested in working in an environment in which he felt
controlled and where his dignity was damaged.
A Black girl in the class named Heven, who always showed up to class with a new
fashion statement in the form of nail art, creative hairstyles, or chic clothing choices that
worked within the boundaries of her school uniform, struggled in class as well. Heven
contributed greatly to our mindfulness sessions, lending insight to our discussions on breathing
and contemplation, but she argued loudly and often with her teacher. She was suspended
about two weeks before my study wrapped up for defending her sister in a fight with some
classmates. When Heven returned to school after three days, she was made to wait in the office
all day, and at 1:30 PM she was allowed to go to the classroom, retrieve her books, and leave.
She never recovered emotionally and remained withdrawn and angry, even when participating
in my study in which she had previously shown great interest (Harris & Sanders-Smith, 2020).
I greatly enjoyed my time with these children, and they expressed sadness when the
project finished. I lived down the street from Trey and Theo and would wave to them as they
played basketball with their neighbors and friends as I drove past. I was so happy to see them
laugh and play – they were completely different kids out of school than they were in the
classroom. Theo, though more austere and reserved even in these happier settings, would
wave enthusiastically back to me along with Trey. In the weeks and months following data
collection, I began to think more deeply about the types of experiences that Black children
have in school. I started to wonder what sorts of experiences shape a child’s world view, in
addition to their internal mindset and sense of self. How did Trey, Theo, and Heven define
themselves, and had this definition possibly changed because of experiences both in and out
4
of school? I recall worrying that if things continued for Trey, Theo, or Heven this way, their
trajectory might lead them to involvement with the criminal-legal system, as the school-to-
prison nexus has been long established to target Black youth (Alexander, 2010). It never once
occurred to me that this was the children’s fault but rather that it was a result of centuries of
oppression within a system designed to exclude them (Ladson-Billings, 2006).
The School-to-Prison Nexus and Overdiscipline
The prison population in the United States is higher than that of any other developed
nation in the West, at 457 incarcerated per 100,000 residents (Hinds et al., 2017). According to
the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, about one in thirty-seven
adult citizens are under some form of correctional supervision at a given time (NAACP, 2019).
At the same time, the proportion of incarcerated people of color in U.S. prisons is extremely
high - 56% in 2015 - when compared to the White population (NAACP, 2019). Moreover, the
ratio of Black to white incarcerated individuals is extremely inequitable: while Black people
make up just 13 percent of the population in the United States, they account for five times the
incarceration rate of whites (NAACP, 2019).
In public schools, suspension, expulsion, and disciplinary rates follow a similar trend.
Meiners (2011) defines “the policies, ideologies, and local practices that move a select group
of young people from schools to prisons” as the school-to-prison nexus. While the overall rate
of suspension of Black students appeared to have decreased between 2012 and 2016, Black
high school students were suspended twice as frequently as either white or Hispanic students
in 2016 (NPR, 2018). Black students are 3.8 times more likely to be suspended than are white
students throughout their K-12 career, and the number is nearly the same in preschool, where
5
Black three- and four-year-olds are 3.6 times more likely to be suspended out of school than
white preschoolers (NPR, 2018).
Dajerria Becton
In 2015, Dajerria Becton, a 15-year-old Black girl, attended a pool party with some of
her friends in McKinney, Texas. Things got out of hand when white pool goers called the police
to report that Becton and her friends did not belong there. When officer Eric Casebolt and his
comrades arrived, he treated the teens like criminals, throwing the yellow-bikini-clad Becton to
the ground and kneeling on her back, and drawing a gun on the alarmed friends who tried to
help her as she cried for her mother (Wun, 2016b). The entire incident was filmed by Brandon
Brooks, a 15-year-old white boy who was never stopped or questioned (Capehart, 2015).
Niya Kenny
In 2015, Niya Kenny was sitting quietly at her desk at Spring Valley High School in
Columbia, South Carolina. The teacher had called the resource officer because one of Niya’s
classmates, Shakara, was refusing to do her work and using her phone. When the officer, Ben
Fields, entered the classroom, things quickly got out of hand as Fields grabbed Shakara, still
seated in her desk, and violently flipped her over and onto the floor (Reynolds & Hicks, 2016).
Niya had pulled out her own phone to film the incident, as Fields was known to “slam”
students, and Niya could be heard in her own video shouting for Fields to leave Shakara alone
(Jarvie, 2015). Not only was Shakara arrested, but Niya was as well for filming the incident and
for her loud protests (Jarvie, 2015).
6
Kaia Rolle
In September of 2019, Kaia Rolle was filmed via the body camera of an Orlando police
officer at her school. Kaia, a six-year-old Black girl, was being arrested for battery after the staff
at her charter school, Lucious & Emma Nixon Academy, accused her of attacking them.
Ignoring her cries for help while she begged for a second chance to do better, Kaia had her
hands zip-tied together, was placed in a police vehicle, and was taken to the police station.
The officer who arrested Kaia was fired, but the law that made it possible for him to arrest her
was amended in the Florida senate in 2021. The new legislation, titled “The Kaia Rolle Act,”
prohibits the arrest of anyone under the age of seven – “unless the violation…is a forcible
felony.” (Florida Senate, 2021). The Kaia Rolle Act was passed into law when Kaia was eight
and outside the bounds of its protection.
Forty-eight percent of preschool children who are suspended out of school more than
once are Black (U.S. Department of Education Office for Civil Rights, 2014). While this statistic
might drive a person to ask, “Who is suspending four-year-olds?”, it is notable that Black
children make up just 18% of all preschool children in public schools. The question must then
become, “Why are Black children removed from preschool spaces so often?”
The Trouble with Innocence
The face of a four-year-old child, or a six-year-old, to me is the picture of innocence.
This value of innocence is an identity tag that I have assigned to children without ever meeting
them, but which is quite evidence-based: I have taught thousands of children and have never
met a “bad” one. However, Meiners (2015) troubles the notion of innocence in children,
cautioning that it is this very designation of innocence that places Black children especially at
7
risk. When these children fail to meet (white) expectations of innocence, they are punished, and
they are punished far more severely than their white counterparts (Meiners, 2015).
When I encountered the statistics on suspensions of children, figures that anyone can
find and regurgitate, the first thought that came to mind is, who can look into the face of a
four-year-old child and deem that face as less valuable than any of the others? Why are young
children being arrested or suspended at all? Why are Black bodies unworthy of occupying the
same learning spaces as the white students in the room? Why were a six-year-old girl’s pleas
for help and a second chance ignored? If, like me, teachers view all young faces as portraits of
innocence, why are some of these faces excluded from their learning environments? But
perhaps most importantly, how does this exclusion or other experiences affect the way Black
children see themselves and the world around them? And are these wonderings the same as
those in Black girls’ minds? If I were to design a study to ask Black girls what is important to
them, what would they tell me?
This study was designed to explore the experiences of Black girls who have been
overdisciplined. The purpose of this exploration was to answer the following research
questions:
1) What is the perspective of Black girls who have been overdisciplined in school?
2) What lived experiences and stories do participants feel are important in shaping
their mindset?
3) How might participation in a youth participatory action research (YPAR) project
reveal important ecological systems and structures in the lives of Black girls who
experience overdiscipline?
8
I chose to conduct a youth participation action research (YPAR) study for this project.
Through this approach, three Black girls – Indigo, Samara, and Audri – critically analyzed their
own experiences and identities, crafted goals for social change, communicated their needs
regarding discipline and policy change, and issued a call-to-action.
Definitions
Throughout this paper, boxes such as the one below provide definitions of terms used
in this research study and data analysis, to lend clarity for the reader. I begin by providing two
definitions before moving forward, so that the reader may understand how I am defining the
key concept for this work (overdiscipline) and who it applies to (children).
Researcher Positionality
I grew up in Marin County, California, a region near San Francisco known for its extreme
wealth and segregation even today (Menendian et al., 2020). My family, however, was not
wealthy. As I grew up, I was very aware of the boundaries of privilege I straddled. There was
wealth and excess all around me. Some of my friends lived in mansions, yet my family was
evicted twice and had a car repossessed, and I was teased for not wearing the latest clothing
OVERDISCIPLINE
Any act of punishment, especially toward a Black child, that is unreasonable,
excessive, racially motivated, ambiguous in nature, or grounded in white norms
and values.
CHILD
A person under the age of eighteen. For the purposes of this study,
Black girls
are African American children who identify as female.
9
brands. My best friend was Black, but she was the only Black girl I remember going to school
with for years. When I asked why there were not more Black people around, I was never given
a satisfactory answer. In fact, I do not recall any answer at all.
Though I lived in a violent household and struggled emotionally, I had family that
pushed me to do well in school and care for others. Somehow my mother managed to keep
me in private school for over half of my K-12 years, and I still have no idea how she did it.
After high school graduation, the segregation in Marin frustrated me. Most of the Black
people lived in one area (Marin City) and most of the Latino people lived in another (the Canal
District in San Rafael). Rhetoric surrounding why these groups lived in these areas involved
words and phrases such as “ghetto,” “illegal,” “deadbeat” and never addressed the systems
and structures in Marin that pushed Black and Brown people to the margins. I left Marin for the
city to attend San Francisco State University, and although I majored in Music, I took as many
classes as I could on racism and different cultures. I was deeply passionate about how I could
be part of something bigger than myself and work for social change. In 2007 I found myself
living in Dallas, Texas and teaching elementary music, working in schools located in high
poverty areas with 99% Black and Brown populations. My first school did not have the budget
to replace my stapler when it broke. So, I held fundraisers to take my students on field trips
and pay for kids to be in after-school music groups and go to competitions.
Eventually, I grew even more frustrated. The love and effort that I put into teaching
every child in my school – a thousand kids at my last full-time position – was undone each time
they were shouted at and forced to walk single-file back to their regular classrooms to practice
for yet another standardized test. I was angry when I walked through the lunchroom as children
10
ate in silence and then were punished when they talked. I did not understand why kids were
made to walk with a “bubble in their mouth” so they could remember to be silent. I felt that
these experiences were traumatizing to the children we were tasked to serve. When I raised
concern, I was told that I was “just the music teacher” and that since I had a “fun” class, I did
not have the same “problems” with the children as other teachers and therefore did not
understand what was necessary for kids to be educated in “real” classrooms. I disagreed.
All these life experiences combined are the reason why I decided to pursue my PhD in
Education, and why I have dedicated my life to listening to and uplifting the voices of children
who are made to feel as though their stories and lived experiences do not matter.
This is not
my work
. This work takes coalition-building and should be driven by the children whose stories
it tells.
Conclusion
The impetus of this project began with issues facing two Black boys with whom I had
formed a bond. However, as I researched more deeply it became clear through the many
stories I encountered that this project would do well to address the multifaceted and
interwoven forces which exert themselves upon Black girls throughout this country. This project
is antiracist work, but it is also Black feminist work (Reynolds, 2019). I worked to build a brave
space for the Audri, Samara, and Indigo in which the stories that they shared were held sacred
(Reynolds, 2019).
So much of the research I have read featuring children has been work done by adults on
children, or from the perspective of children but voiced by adults. This project was carried out
from the perspective of Black girls and showcases the lived experiences of Black girls. It builds
11
and extends upon the work of others who are dedicated to showcasing Black girls’ stories. In
considering what it means to create a safe, “fugitive” space for my participants to be able to
share and create, I build on the work of Reynolds (2019). By constantly interrogating my own
tendencies to identify and classify the innocence of children as an educator, I value the work of
Meiners (2015). By honoring and uplifting the stories of Black girls and stepping back from my
own need as a white female to restate or reframe, I recall the work of Ruth Nicole Brown (2013)
and bell hooks (1989, 1992). And by constantly reflecting on whether this work is pushing
forward the goal of helping Black girls to matter and to thrive, I am inspired by work of Bettina
Love (2019). There are countless others. This project is not my work but is inspired by and for
the Black women and girls with whom I have had the privilege to encounter, in person or on
the page. I credit Maya Angelou, whose poem echoed the narrative of Audri, Samara, and
Indigo and is therefore quoted in Chapters 6, 7, and 8.
12
CHAPTER 2: REVIEW OF LITERATURE
The research questions introduced in Chapter 1 probe at the concept of mattering for
Black girls (Love, 2019). The questions ask how experiences with overdiscipline have shaped
participants’ views of themselves, and what stories they feel are important to share. According
to Love (2019), dignity, voice, and a sense of power are directly connected to whether Black
children feel they matter in this world. Throughout this chapter, I come back to this concept of
mattering. I explore how Black girls are affected by the school-to-prison nexus, and the
(mis)conceptions of Black girlhood. Then, I share relevant literature on identity and the self and
relate how storytelling and ecological systems are important within all of these themes and to
this study. Next, I explain the YPAR methodology and why I chose it in order to showcase the
stories of my participants. Finally, I elaborate how this study fills an important gap within the
literature. In each of these realms, I come back to the idea of mattering and why it is essential
for Black girls.
The School-to-Prison Nexus, and Trauma
One of the ways in which we can better critique the concept of mattering is by first
acknowledging that Black girls face traumatic experiences that are unique to their
intersectional identities (Baumle, 2018; Crenshaw, 1989, 1991; Dumas, 2014; Love, 2019;
Reynolds, 2019). This trauma is then further compounded in schools when Black girls’
responses to trauma, such as running away, speaking out, or shutting down are disciplined
harshly through punitive policies such as school suspensions and arrest (Baumle, 2018; Lynch et
al., 2012; Marston et al., 2012; Office of Juvenile Justice, 2015; Reynolds & Hicks, 2016;
Simkins & Katz, 2002).
13
Baumle (2018) defines trauma as the experience and resulting effects of an event or
accumulation of events, or a set of circumstances that is experienced as emotionally or
physically harmful to an individual. This type of harm can be experienced in forms such as the
structural trauma of racism and/or poverty (Baumle, 2018). For Black girls, trauma can be
caused throughout the school day by what Love (2019) calls the educational survival complex.
The educational survival complex is the environment within schools in which Black and Brown
children are set up to “merely survive, learning how schools mimic the world they live in, thus
making schools a training site for a life of exhaustion” (Love, p. 27). This life of exhaustion in
school and from the outside world is a form of structural trauma (Baumle, 2018). When Black
girls respond as they would naturally to this trauma, they are punished for it (Baumle, 2018;
Love, 2019).
Black girls are suspended from school six times the rate of white girls (Baumle, 2018;
M.W. Morris, 2016; Ritchie, 2017). Yet research has shown that Black girls are suspended,
expelled, and even arrested for lower-level offenses than their white counterparts (Office of
Juvenile Justice, 2015; Ritchie, 2017). Status offenses, such as running away, truancy, and
violating curfew, are non-violent offenses (Office of Juvenile Justice, 2015), and yet Black and
Brown girls are often arrested for these types of offenses rather than being offered alternative
forms of help (Baumle, 2018; Steinhart, 1996). An arrest, rather than an investigation into why a
child is running away from home or drinking underage, can indicate to a child that her life and
her livelihood do not matter to the adults who sanctioned her containment.
In addition to being criminalized more often for low-level offenses, Black girls are
frequently stigmatized and caught up in the criminal-legal system when they struggle with
14
mental health issues (Boals et al., 2013; Lynch et al., 2012; Marston et al., 2012). In a study
involving 141 female juvenile offenders, half of whom were Black, Marston et al. (2012) found
that nearly all of the girls (92%) had at least one mental health disorder. The researchers found
that 87% of the girls in the study had conduct disorder. Conduct disorder (CD) is defined as a
persistent behavioral pattern which violates “age-appropriate” societal norms or the rights of
others. CD is characterized by a range of antisocial behaviors. In addition to CD diagnosis,
61.7% of the girls in the Marston et al. study expressed suicidal ideation, and many of them
struggled with varying types of depression along with other mental health disorders (Marston,
et al., 2012). Rather than receiving treatment for these debilitating conditions, these girls were
contained in prison. According to Baumle (2018), imprisoning Black girls for their responses to
trauma, rather than recognizing their need for help, compounds that trauma, leading to a
trauma-to-prison cycle that continues into adulthood.
Unfortunately, for many adults, it is more common to push Black youth, and especially
Black girls, into the criminal-legal system rather than to take time to understand their
intersectional and nuanced relationship with the world around them (Blake et al., 2011;
Crenshaw, 1989; M.W. Morris, 2016; Reynolds & Hicks, 2016; Simkins & Katz, 2002; Theriot,
2009; Tyson, 2003; Wun, 2016b). Crenshaw (1989, 1991) explains intersectionality by
elaborating on the violence and discrimination that are enacted upon women in overlapping
ways, due to multiple factors related to their identity such as race, class, and sex. Black girls are
seen as older than they are – a term known as adultification (Burton, 2007; Epstein et al., 2017;
E.W. Morris, 2007; Reynolds, 2019). They are consequently expected to “know better” and
tend to be punished more harshly than their white peers when they show behavior that may be
15
normal for their age or violate white social norms (Burton, 2007; Epstein, et al., 2017; Meiners,
2015; Reynolds, 2019; Wun, 2016a). This illustrates intersectional discrimination, which
happens to Black girls due to their gender, their age, and their race (Crenshaw, 1991).
Intersectionality between race and gender regarding the discipline of Black girls within
schools is also connected to the racial and gender representation of teachers (Love, 2019).
According to the National Center for Educational Statistics, 80% of teachers in public schools
were white in 2019, while just 7% were Black, 9% were Hispanic, and 2% were Asian (NCES,
2019). Just one percent of teachers reported being of two or more races. Moreover, 77% of all
teachers were female (NCES, 2019). Many girls of color, most of whom attend majority non-
white schools, have few teachers who look like them (Love, 2019). In Chicago Public Schools,
where Black students make up about 31% of the total student population, Black teachers make
up just over 20%, while white teachers account for half of teaching staff (Chicago Public
Schools, 2019). It stands to reason that in areas where the population of Black students is
significantly smaller, Black girls’ chance of having teachers who look like them goes down. Yet,
school discipline statistics remain consistently disproportionate when it comes to Black girls,
nationwide (U.S. Department of Education Office for Civil Rights, 2014).
When exploring the connection between discipline and mattering it is important to
consider the increased presence of police within schools. As detailed above, when adults treat
Black girls as though they are older than their actual age, are more defiant, and are less in
need of emotional help, often the result is police involvement. School resource officers and
police who patrol the community frequently make arrests for behavior that seems relatively
benign. In 2019, six-year-old Kaia Rolle was arrested and taken to a police station in handcuffs
16
from the charter school she was attending for allegedly throwing a tantrum (Calvan, 2020). This
is just one of many stories of trauma-inducing experiences Black girls have been subjected to
by police officers (Ritchie, 2017; Theriot, 2009).
According to Theriot (2009), the increase in police within school halls has not served to
deter crime. However, the number of arrests of Black and Brown children for low-level offenses
has increased (Theriot, 2009). The presence of school resource officers has been found to
increase the number of arrests made for “disorderly conduct,” such as violating the school
dress code, getting up to throw away trash, or stealing as little as two dollars from a classmate
(Theriot, 2009; Wun, 2016a). Once a child is arrested, her chances for rearrest or
reincarceration are incredibly high (Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention,
2019).
The trauma-to-prison pipeline refers to the criminalization of Black girls’ response to
trauma and mental illness (Baumle, 2018). This term serves to steer the conversation away from
a focus on the school-to-prison nexus and toward a deeper emphasis on trauma (Baumle,
2018). Arguably very important, the concept of the school-to-prison nexus focuses on the harsh
discipline policies within schools that serve to criminalize Black and Brown youth and funnel
them into the criminal justice system, where these youth have a high rate of recidivism
(Advancement Project, 2013; Barnes & Motz, 2018; Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency
Prevention, 2019). The presence of police within schools functions not just as a gateway to the
criminal-legal system; it positions schools squarely in the system which mirrors reality for Black
adults, who make up half of all people in prisons and jails (Dumas & ross, 2016). Thus, the
school-to-prison “pipeline” is in reality a “nexus.” However, Baumle (2018) argues that Black
17
girls’ behavior, specifically their response to trauma, is criminalized so frequently that a trauma-
to-prison pipeline has been firmly established.
Black Girlhood and Blackness
Mattering is a primary concern for Black women and girls, who have been systemically
criminalized, silenced, erased, and whose bodies have been located as sites of violence for
centuries (Baumle, 2018; Bright et al., 2014; Crenshaw, 1989; hooks, 1989; Ladson-Billings,
2009; E.W. Morris, 2007; M.W. Morris, 2012). Ruth Nicole Brown (2013) describes Black
girlhood as freedom. Unfortunately, for many Black girls, their lives are not lived as freely as
they would like. White society, with its embedded systems and structures, works tirelessly to
contain Black girls, and to place constraints upon the very definitions of acceptable identities
and behaviors in order to make that containment more feasible (Baumle, 2018; Breeden, 2021;
Butler, 2018; M.W. Morris, 2012; Stern et al., 2021; Velez & Spencer, 2018).
In her research, Butler (2018) elaborates upon numerous stories similar to Kaia Rolle’s,
including legal cases, in which Black women and girls have had to navigate spaces which were
complicated by race, gender, class, sexuality, dis/ability and place. Butler describes “Black Girl
Cartography” as “the study of how and where Black girls are physically and socio-politically
mapped in education.” It is important to consider the spaces in which Black girls are located in
reflecting on the concept of mattering and its relation to school-to-prison nexus. For example,
many educators and community members “map” the behaviors of Black girls onto place, such
as Black girls being “loud and ratchet and ghetto” in urban spaces (Butler, p. 37). Others
counter this narrative by describing urban Black girls as sophisticated survivors who know the
codes of the street and can navigate those communities (Butler, 2018).
18
Black girls stand in a place that makes their viewpoint unique from all others. Black girl
standpoint theory positions Black girls at the center of their distinct and intersectional
experiences and privileges this narrative (Lindsey, 2015). This standpoint is preferable when
working with Black girls rather than, for example, using feminist standpoint theory, Black
feminist standpoint theory, or even Critical Race Theory, all of which may fail to take
girlhood
into account or do not center Blackness in their analysis (Lindsey, 2015). To be a Black girl in
the United States is to be especially vulnerable: Black girls must struggle to maintain their
dignity and Blackness while fighting sexism, racism, ageism, adultification, patriarchy and the
toxic stress of surviving a school system that is attempting to push them out (Butler, 2018;
Love, 2019; M.W. Morris, 2016; Reynolds, 2019). Some Black girls battle these multiple systems
of discrimination while working or living with a dis/ability, and still others live in poverty.
Those in power – read: white society and those who embrace norms and values pushed
by white society – not only map their views of Black folks and children onto spaces and vice
versa, but laws and policies are then crafted in response to those views. Black Critical Theorists
analyze the laws and policies in the United States, with the view that this legislation functions to
specifically subjugate Black people (Dumas & ross, 2016). Black children and adults do not just
face racism in this country. Anti-Blackness, the suppression, subjugation, discrimination, and
hatred of Black folks by whites, is important in our understanding of how racism and whiteness
as property continue to endure (Annamma, 2016; Burrell-Craft, 2020; A.Y. Davis, 1971; Dumas
& ross, 2016; Lipsitz, 1995). In their 2016 article, Dumas and ross shared several examples of
how Black youth were subjected to physical and emotional abuses by educators, in which their
Blackness was specifically attacked. These examples included a teacher in Illinois repeatedly
19
calling two Black students “nigger” and a Black girl being threatened with expulsion unless she
changed her natural hairstyle (Dumas & ross, 2016). All of the instances of abuse cited in
Dumas and ross’ article occurred within the past decade. The discrimination and abuse that
Black children endure in school is not a relic of a bygone era, but a current issue that persists.
Schools can be sites of racist, heteronormative, sexist and ableist practices which target
Black girls for disciplinary action, and which are in turn seated in whiteness (Butler, 2018).
Whiteness, as defined by Lipsitz (1995), is “the unmarked category against which difference is
constructed” (p. 369). Culturally, Whiteness is unseen and unheard, because it is the
benchmark of “normalcy” by which all people are judged, both socially and culturally (Lipsitz,
1995). The structures of Whiteness are detrimental to Black children in schools, who are
developing their sense of self and beginning to understand their relation to the world around
them. A school which has in its dress code a policy on natural hairstyles is using white norms by
which to judge its students (Butler, 2018; E.W. Morris, 2007).
While the structure of schooling is rooted in policies and practices that are grounded
and coded in white norms (E.W. Morris, 2007; M.W. Morris, 2012; Wun, 2016a, 2016b), these
norms have been practiced, celebrated, and reified in society and the law for centuries. In her
groundbreaking book, We Want to Do More Than Survive (2019), Bettina Love enumerates
examples of white rage in which, in the last two hundred years alone, the law has protected
white men and women as they entrapped, shot, bombed, stalked, chased, lynched, tormented,
tortured, and butchered Black men, women, and children – all for the crime of being Black
(Love, 2019). Love shares her own panic as she became a university professor and felt the
pressure to appear “respectable” as a Black woman: “Being Black was exhausting…I did not
20
know how to thrive. I had everything I had ever wanted and was terrified it would all be taken
away from me just for being Black” (p. 154). Love (2019) describes the routine she developed if
she was pulled over while driving, in which she would “accidentally” pull out her university ID
before her driver’s license and use a “professor voice” that she never really used in class, all in
an attempt to conform to white norms and avoid being killed. Still, she admitted that this ritual
and her status as a professor would not make her matter, because she was a Black woman in
Georgia, where a police officer was recorded admitting “we only kill Blacks here” (Love, 2019).
In contrast to the incarcerated Black girls whose conduct disorder was so prevalent
(Marston, et al., 2012), Love (2019) – a Black lesbian – was attempting to conceal the type of
“conduct disorder” which might result in her containment or even death. She adjusted her
voice and flashed her professorial identity. When she realized that she could never hide from
Whiteness, and that not only she but her children were in danger of this same threat, she felt
defeated and terrified.
Black women and girls undergo a constant and arduous struggle to avoid white rage –
only to suffer at the hands of Whiteness, regardless of their efforts. In addition to family
structures, it is essential that bonds of friendship, such as sister circles and voluntary kin, are
formed in order for Black girls to not just survive but to thrive (Neal-Barnett et al., 2011;
Reynolds, 2019; Williams, 2020). Sister circles are support groups which serve to provide Black
women with encouragement, knowledge, and help (Neal-Barnett et al., 2011). Sister circles are
grounded in existing friendships or networks, and some are formed around collective
survivorship, such as cancer, or affinities, such as book clubs or spirituality (Neal-Barnett et al.,
2011). Sister circles can be related to family spaces: mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and
21
daughters (Reynolds, 2019). All these sites of sisterhood can be especially empowering for
Black women and girls in claiming space (Reynolds, 2019). While spaces such as schools, parks,
entire neighborhoods, and other gathering spaces in this country are often sites of Whiteness
(Harris, 1993; Lipsitz, 1995), Black women and girls can claim space for themselves and find
empowerment within sister circles (Neal-Barnett et al., 2011; Reynolds, 2019).
In addition to the empowerment which can come from convening within sister circles,
Black women and girls benefit from relationships with folks known as voluntary kin (Williams,
2020). Voluntary kin are nonbiological individuals to which we form bonds so close that they
are considered family, such as the “aunt” who attends family functions, or friend one can
entrust with her deepest secrets, with no expectations of (romantic) intimacy (Williams, 2020).
According to Brown (2013), “Black girls…are often the people least guaranteed to be
centered as valuable in collective work and social movements that they could very well lead
and organize” (p. 15). While Black girls are preyed upon by societal structures and systems
designed and determined to undervalue and undermine them, they can find strength and
refuge in each other, in family, and in friendships.
Identity and the Self
The complete and intersectional identities of Black girls must be protected and
celebrated as Black girls, if they are to truly feel as though they matter (Love, 2019).
Researchers have found that many Black children are trained at home to differentiate between
their internal sense of self and the role that white society imposes upon them (Bowman &
Howard, 1985; E.W. Morris, 2007). While this may help them navigate the outside world, it can
also inflict damage and cause difficulty with adjusting to their environment (Bowman &
22
Howard, 1985). In addition to the daily struggle to survive in school and society, Black children
face challenges to their identity such as adultification, identity threat and stereotype threat
(Reynolds, 2019; Townsend et al., 2010; van Laar et al., 2010). By examining these and other
topics related to the self, by way of Gee’s four identity lenses, we can begin to uncover how
Black girls make sense of themselves in relation to the world around them (2000).
James Paul Gee (2000) identifies natural identity, institutional identity, discourse
identity, and affinity identity as interweaving and interconnected perspectives for determining
the “type of person” one is. Natural identity is determined by forces outside one’s control,
such as being an identical twin or having ADHD. Being Black is part of one’s natural identity,
but as I will explore below, Blackness is also discursive, institutional, and affinitive.
Having curly hair or long fingers, being tall, and certain aspects of our personalities can
all be aspects of natural identity (Gee, 2000). Gee asserts that institutions, other people, and
groups play a large part in the recognition of natural identities, thus muddying the waters of
what is or is not a natural endowment. For example, my having a spleen is part of my natural
self, but it has nothing to do with my identity (Gee, p. 102). However, the fact that I could
match pitch at six months old (a natural ability) was discovered by my mother as she sang to
me, making her influential in my becoming a singer and majoring in music later in life.
One struggle related to natural identity for Black girls can happen when they wear
hairstyles which conflict with school dress code policies (Dumas & ross, 2016; Evelyn, 2020;
Lattimore, 2017; Lindsey, 2013). This includes wearing natural hairstyles. Many incidents have
been recorded in which teachers have cut Black students’ hair, administrators have prevented
Black students from walking with their classes at graduation, and Black students have been sent
23
home or suspended for wearing Black hairstyles (Dumas & ross, 2016; Evelyn, 2020; Lattimore,
2017). Such policies are traumatic, are seated in anti-Blackness, and do not allow for all
students to matter and thrive (Love, 2019).
Vocations, “callings,” and other types of identifying markers which are “authorized” by
institutions indicate what Gee labels as institutional identity (Gee, 2000). When I finish my
dissertation, this university will grant me the privilege of calling myself “doctor,” an institutional
identity. I can add this to a list: teacher, student, medical patient, and so on. In the case of my
participants, who are also students and medical patients, “criminal,” “prisoner,” and other such
descriptions might fall into this category. They are terms imposed by structures and institutions
of the state. Some institutional identities can be regarded as impositions or barriers, rather than
the positive affirmations of self for which many forms of identity are viewed.
Many institutional and societal expectations are bestowed upon Black girls from a very
early age. This may cause some Black girls to believe that they should grow up faster or that
they are responsible when bad things happen to them, even when this responsibility does not
lie with them. This is the process known as “adultification,” in which Black youth are viewed
and treated as though they are older than their actual age, and held accountable, often legally,
for acts that children normally do (Burton, 2007; Epstein et al., 2017; Meiners, 2015; Reynolds,
2019). Adultification is enacted upon Black girls by society – an institution with enough force to
affect legislation, school policy, and the sentencing of Black girls. We have seen this in the
studies that show Black girls incarcerated rather than receiving help for mental illness (Marston
et al., 2012).
24
Day 1
I brought her here in hopes to find
Amidst this unfettered plain
A rainbow across a starlit night
To which she could attain
Instead her spirit slowly broke
A fragile china doll
On splintered glass, her soul exposed
I will weep for her awhile
Day 2
The child is smart
She began computing
Around the age of three
At 15 she decided to account
Yet now she cannot add
The facts of life together
So they make sense
Day 3
My child lies now
Asleep all day
She doesn’t go to school
Inside the walls
Of Grecian white
Her color is not cool
Excerpt, S.I.P. (School Induced Psychosis). (A.M. Davis, 2007)
The autoethnographic poem above was written by Amira Millicent Davis, a single Black
mother and doctoral student at the time of publication (A.M. Davis, 2007). Davis witnessed the
slow psychological downturn of her teenage daughter as she attempted to navigate the waters
of a primarily white school district in the town where my participants grew up and went to
school. She stated that this story was written with multiple lenses, including African American
female, artist, single parent, and educator (A.M. Davis, 2007). Many of these lenses – artist,
25
single parent, educator – are institutional identities. Even “African American female” comes
with its own institutional connotations: “Jezebel,” “Mammy,” “welfare queen,” and “angry
Black woman,” are all titles which Black women must contend with (Evans-Winters & Esposito,
2010; Townsend, et al., 2010). Millions of Black girls like Amira Davis’ daughter struggle to hold
onto their sense of self in their desperation to maintain dignity and self-respect in school. The
pressure to remain strong and yet to not be viewed as aggressive, defiant, or deviant in rooms
filled with people who do not look like them can be overwhelming. Identity threat as it relates
to Black folks is the negative perception of Black people by others (van Laar et al., 2010).
Stereotype threat, which is related to identity threat, happens when Black folks feel the
pressure to conform to, or resist, the varying stereotypes that societal or institutional structures
have laid out as representative of Black people (Townsend et al., 2010). Both identity threat
and stereotype threat cause undue stress and anxiety and can be confusing to young Black
girls trying to navigate their own identities (Reynolds & Hicks, 2016; Townsend et al., 2010; van
Laar et al., 2010).
Institutional and natural identities play a role in identity politics and intersectionality and
can have a direct impact on Black girls. The rights of women of color, whose lived experiences
are impacted by their identities as both women and persons of color (natural identities which
are also shaped institutionally), frequently are not considered when organizations are fighting
for the rights of the oppressed (Crenshaw, 1991; Evans-Winters & Esposito, 2010). Intragroup
differences often fall to the wayside in favor of, for example, gender- or race-based initiatives
(Evans-Winters & Esposito, 2010). Yet another intersectional aspect must be considered when
girlhood is factored in. Black girls’ identities as Black, female young people are complicated by
26
the way society and the law view race, gender, and age (Crenshaw, 1991; Meiners, 2015; M.W.
Morris, 2012).
The third of Gee’s lenses, discourse identity, applies to individual characteristics and
how one relates to others. Discursive identity traits are usually applied in relation with or
connection to other people (Gee, 2000). For example, an identity marker of “charismatic” or
“diligent” is determined by the “rational” individuals who observe the trait. A person who
identifies as “funny” will have a difficult time being so without other people around to laugh at
her antics.
Blackness can be as discursive as it is part of one’s natural identity, while at the same
time constructed by society and institutions (Brown, 2013; hooks, 1992; Love, 2019; E.W.
Morris, 2007; Townsend et al., 2010). Race is a social construct and not based on biological
factors, but it is still one of the first traits we notice about each other when we meet (Omi &
Winant, 1996). Race, therefore, becomes a source of discourse even if it is within our own
minds, often predetermining what we think of someone (Omi & Winant, 1996). Gee (2000)
explains that racial groups, gender groups, and the intersectional groups which can arise are in
part interactional, or discursive. “Working out (discursive) identities almost always involves
interactions across, and relationships among, different…social groups” (Gee, p. 119). This can
explain why Black girls are often misread, as people from different groups interact with and
read each other according to their own cultural lenses (Epstein et al., 2017; Gee, 2000).
The concept of innocence, a discursive identity trait often ascribed to children and
which I in fact attributed to four-year-olds in Chapter 1, can be problematic (Meiners, 2015).
Even though children of color experience the same amount of violence as their white
27
counterparts, the innocence of Black children is not always assumed and instead must be
proved (Meiners, 2015). Further, gaining knowledge involves risking a child’s assumed
innocence, as remaining “innocent” requires the negation of certain life experiences (Meiners,
2007). Black girls, whose life experiences can include traumatic events including racism and
violence on multiple levels, necessarily lose the “innocent” quality which many (white) children
are expected to have (Epstein et al., 2017; Meiners, 2011). Rather than being discounted, lived
experience should be valued, as it is a crucial part of what makes up who we are, as individuals
and as larger groups (hooks, 1989; Lindsey, 2013; Reynolds, 2019).
To be a part of a culture is to experience the structures of feeling that affect its
individual members: it is at once communal and individual, changes with each generation, and
each generation teaches and influences the next (Zembylas, 2002). Developed by Raymond
Williams, structures of feeling describes the way individuals feel within a community and within
a given time period. This involves the discourses and interactions which in turn help to shape
our individual and collective identities. Culture is not simply the art, traditions, or clothing that
people wear but is deeply embedded in the identity of each individual and includes, among
other attributes, a sense of community and structures of feeling (Zembylas, 2002). We can only
know what our world feels like at this time and place: we can study a different time period or
civilization but never truly know what their quality of life felt like. Therefore, it is important to
trust the feelings, stories, and narratives of those living their experiences
at this time
. The
erasure of those stories – and this includes the negation of the lived experiences of Black girls
to maintain a false sense of innocence – implies that their perspective does not matter (Love,
2019; Meiners, 2015).
28
The fourth lens through which Gee describes identity is how people’s affinities align
with others (Gee, 2000). These affinitive practices allow people to bond with others who are
like-minded. The sister circles described earlier in this chapter provide an example of affinity
identity: Black girls come together for varying purposes, but often with a like-minded pursuit,
and with the goal of creating a sense of community and support (Neal-Barnett et al., 2011).
Townsend et al. (2010) stated that Black girls who reported a strong connection with their
ethnic group also shared that they had a positive sense of academic self-worth. In their book
Radical Dharma: Talking Race, Love, and Liberation, Kyodo williams et al. (2016) share the ways
in which they radically take up space. These Buddhist teachers have re-envisioned the way
meditation is practiced, which includes reimagining “freedom” and “liberation” for Black folks
(Kyodo williams et al., 2016). While discussing privilege and the disconnect between Black folks
who have different appearances (on the spectrum of darkness of skin and kinkiness of hair),
Reverend angel Kyodo williams states, “It’s an important entryway into the potential for healing
when we start to recognize we are all participating unless we are interrupting” (p. 119).
Through participation in various affinity groups, Black girls can not only strengthen their sense
of individual and community identity, but they can also find sources of empowerment and
connection. There are many ways and spaces for Black women and girls to engage in acts of
joy, resistance, self-love, self-care, coalition building, and so many other undertakings which
affirm their Blackness, their femininity, their strength, and their right to thrive and matter in this
world.
29
Storytelling, Black Girlhood, and Photography
In this chapter, I have illustrated how the school-to prison nexus criminalizes Blackness.
Specific to this study, I have explored how Black girls are targeted by these systems and
examined the different lenses of identity in relation to Black girlhood. I now turn to storytelling
and its ability to provide an open space for Black girls to express their uniqueness, to share
their experiences, and to matter.
The book Hear Our Truths: The Creative Potential of Black Girlhood (Brown, 2013)
provides a collection of artistic work created by Black women and girls, drawn from the
SOLHOT project. SOLHOT, which stands for Saving Our Lives Hear Our Truths, is based in the
Champaign-Urbana community of Illinois (Brown, 2013). The book and the project are evidence
of the type of collective pride, truth, and artistry which can be generated when Black girls
practice radical imagination, claim their own space, and set no limits for themselves (Brown,
2013). When Black girls use artistic means to express themselves, they have a broader range of
tools to voice their need to matter in this world (Brown, 2013; hooks, 1992; Love, 2019;
Tesfagiorgis, 1993).
In Hear Our Truths, we find many descriptions of Black girls as “fighters,” “soldiers,”
and being caught between the categories of victim or aggressor (Brown, 2013). This will be
especially relevant when reading Samara’s chapter. The media provides an onslaught of
imagery which serves to cast Black girls as hypersexual and deviant (Lindsey, 2013). For Black
girls to thrive and feel as though they matter as they navigate the discourses and labels being
placed upon them, the need for positive, affirming outlets in which to express themselves is
necessary (Brown, 2013; Lindsey, 2013; Love, 2019; Reynolds, 2019).
30
Historically, photography has been used to essentialize Black people by presenting lone
images devoid of the narratives or voices of those whose likenesses they represent (Brown,
2013; hooks, 1992). Brown (2013) cautions against the use of photographs that lack context
and instead invites researchers to critically analyze their own gaze. The narrative story, coupled
with a photograph, provides a reason for the photograph’s coming into being in the first place
and gives the viewer information on the image’s creator. This complicates the interpretation for
the viewer, allows them to think more critically, and interrupts the tendency of the viewer to
superimpose their own story upon the image (Brown, 2013).
Figure 2.1
"Negro Boys on Easter Morning," Russell Lee, 1941
The photo in Figure 2.2 was taken in Bronzeville, Chicago in 1941, and is titled “Negro
Boys on Easter Morning” (Gunderson, 2015). The photograph was taken by government
photographer Russell Lee as part of the Farm Security Administration (FSA) photo project
31
(Gunderson, 2015). Part of this project documented the great migration, which led them to
Chicago. Researchers more than fifty years later were able to identify just one child in the
photo: Spencer Lee Reedus, Jr., the fourteen-year-old in the center (Gunderson, 2015).
What has always struck me about this photo is the gaze of the boys in the photo. As I in
turn have gazed at this image, which was taken of five Black boys but provided no narrative
from their perspective, I have been left wondering what they were thinking. Analyzing the
photo for artistic elements such as light and shadow provide no explanation or description for
what the boys are thinking or feeling. hooks (1992) described the “gaze” as a political part of
her life, at once an instigator of terror, a perpetrator of trauma, an act of defiance, and a site of
resistance. Black slaves were punished or killed for looking the wrong way or at the wrong
person (hooks, 1992). Free Black folks during the Jim Crow era were lynched for looking the
wrong way (hooks, 1992; Love, 2019). Black looks have become a “rebellious desire, an
oppositional gaze…not only will I stare. I want my look to change reality” (hooks, 1992, p. 115).
Through the art of storytelling, Black girls and use their own gaze to
resist and counter
the gaze of those who view, name, and label them out of context. Incorporating the voices and
stories of Black girls within the body of research provides context and weight to mere facts and
figures. Gathering facts about the number of Black girls suspended per year, for example, tells
nothing of the reasons for suspension, nor do these numbers account for the numerous times
that Black girls have been suspended for fighting against unfair treatment or abuse by teachers
and other school staff. Stories, however, provide this important context.
32
Youth Participatory Action Research
The YPAR approach offers an ability for researchers to co-create knowledge with study
participants and recognizes that participants are experts in their own lives (Smith et al., 2012;
Wang, 2006). YPAR calls people to action in the name of social change as readers are invited
to recognize this new knowledge on the participants’ terms (Jordan, 2003; Smith et al., 2012,
2010). This gets at the heart of mattering: what matters most to participants, and how this can
be conveyed not through the eyes and words of the researcher but through those of the
community most impacted (Higgins, 2014). Children working with researchers through YPAR
are empowered to identify problems in their communities or their everyday lives and discover
solutions to these problems (Smith et al., 2012). This is in striking contrast to typical research
studies, in which problems are identified and investigated by the researchers (Jordan, 2003).
YPAR researchers recognize that “objective” research within the social sciences is impossible,
and they also characterize their research as “openly political” (Jordan, 2003).
Because YPAR projects provide a direct window into the lives of participants, members
of the community and other stakeholders can enact change by gaining knowledge from their
insider perspective (Ornelas et al., 2009; Smith et al., 2012; Wang, 2006). YPAR aims to
increase the critical consciousness within participants through dialogue, and in doing so, to
shed greater light on their own perspectives (Carlson et al., 2006, Peabody, 2013). Critical
consciousness is the level of consciousness at which individuals “become aware that their own
assumptions shape the interpretations of reality” (Carlson et al., 2006). People with critical
consciousness are aware that their decisions can change their reality, and through this
33
consciousness, they can take steps to enact social change (Carlson et al., 2006; Peabody,
2013).
Throughout this chapter, I have returned to the concept of mattering and its relation to
Black girls’ ability to thrive. One of the necessary factors in mattering for Black girls is
empowerment (Gines, 2015; Lindsey, 2013). According to Lindsey (2013), empowerment
includes the knowledge of, and ability to, act in healthy, safe ways that “affirm one’s own
humanity.” Lindsey notes that we must be careful to address empowerment for Black girls, as
very little research has taken Black girlhood specifically into account (2013). In this chapter, I
have provided examples in which Black girls’ power has been coopted by others, including
school policies designed to punish them for failing to maintain white standards of dress or
behavior (Dumas & ross, 2016), and the unwillingness of institutions to address mental health
issues properly (Marston et al., 2012). Black girls’ lives, both in and out of school, are often
controlled by decisions made by others (Cook & Buck, 2010). To feel empowered, Black girls
must have safe spaces in which to form relationships and to speak freely, to feel a sense of
community, to develop a sisterhood (Gines, 2015). As coresearchers in a YPAR project, Black
girls can be empowered in making the decisions about their needs, identifying and celebrating
their strengths, and pinpointing opportunities for change and action for themselves and within
their communities (Cook & Buck, 2010; Cook & Quigley, 2013).
Current Study
Using the University of Illinois library search engine due to its broad access to extant
research, I searched for studies containing the terms YPAR, Black, and girls and yielded just six
results. Of those six studies, two focused on Black girls in STEM fields (S. Davis, 2016, 2020),
34
one focused on body image and self-esteem (Chard et al., 2020), and another focused on
health equity (Abraczinskas & Zarrett, 2020). Just two YPAR studies focused on school
discipline, racial discrimination, and inequity in schools for Black girls (Bae-Dimitriadis & Evans-
Winters, 2017; Hope et al., 2015). In a similar search of extant literature, I located seven studies
which centered the voices of children of color as experts of their own lived experience (Dockett
& Perry, 2005; Downey & Anyaegbunam, 2010; Graham et al., 2013; Lutrell, 2010; Strack et al.,
2004; Taaffe, 2016; Wilson et al., 2007).
In addition to a photovoice study by Claudine Taaffe (2016) which centered the voices
and stories of Black girls, the work of Ruth Nicole Brown (2013), Monique Morris (2016), and
Maisha Winn (2011) specifically foreground the artwork, stories, and/or voices of Black girls.
These bodies of work represent a small but powerful counter-narrative to the images of Black
girls which are cast by society and the media – the deviant, defiant, loud, hypersexual, angry,
or emotionally shut down, adultified Black girl who should know better than to behave or look
the way she does (Baumle, 2018; Love, 2019; E.W. Morris, 2007; M.W. Morris, 2016; Reynolds,
2019).
The current study engaged three Black high school girls in a YPAR project which they
helped design. It was my intent that by beginning the work privately with me, participants
might feel free to share their stories. Perhaps more importantly, in group sessions participants
would have the opportunity to share together, explore their identities more deeply, and craft
mutual goals for social change. For at least a short time, these three girls might form their own
sister circle around this experience (Neal-Barnett et al., 2011). Each girl had been immersed in
35
or affected by multiple systems of Whiteness, including the school-to-prison nexus and the
larger societal structure dictated by white norms and expectations (Butler, 2018; Wun, 2016a).
This study stands to fill a gap in a field of research that continues to undervalue the
stories of Black girls who are repeatedly pushed out of schools and incarcerated rather than
listened to (Bae-Dimitriadis & Evans-Winters, 2017; Baumle, 2018; Marston et al., 2012; M.W.
Morris, 2016). Through study, Black girls were invited to investigate their sense of identity and
how it had changed over time, and to share stories and experiences that were relevant to
them. Their voices and stories have thus been pushed to the foreground, ensuring that their
sense of mattering is privileged.
Conclusion
This chapter began by describing Bettina Love’s concept of mattering: how Black folks’
dignity, voice, and power are connected to their sense of meaning in the world, and their
ability to thrive within it rather than merely surviving (Love, 2019). From there followed an
examination of the school-to-prison nexus and how it is maintained and upheld in this country.
I explored Black girlhood, the four lenses through which to view identity, storytelling, and
YPAR. I identified several studies which center the voices and stories of youth.
In the chapter that follows, I unpack the overlapping frameworks which represent the
windows, mirrors, and lenses which provide the structure for this project. These include YPAR,
Black Girl Standpoint Theory, Critical Race Theory, Intersectionality Theory, and
Phenomenological Variant Ecological Systems Theory.
36
CHAPTER 3: FRAMEWORKS
Black girls are acted upon by multiple and overlapping forces and spheres of influence
constantly as they navigate their world (Epstein et al., 2017; Lipsitz, 1995; Stern et al., 2021).
Similarly, there are several windows, mirrors, and lenses through which this project and the
Black girls who are its focus can be viewed. I chose youth participatory action research (YPAR)
as the methodology for this project, as this approach to research views children as competent
citizens who can actively participate in the institutions that make decisions about their lives
(Wang, 2006). This approach invited the girls in this study to express the needs they saw as
most important and to get their point across in ways that felt appropriate for them, rather than
adhering to a strict research protocol. Because Black girls stand at several intersecting sites of
violence, at which their bodies, faces, voices, and even their hair are centered, I selected
Critical Race Theory and Intersectionality Theory to serve as lenses through which to view the
stories my participants have told.
Phenomenological Variant Ecological Systems Theory (PVEST) provided a mirror and
the conceptual framework for this project. I used PVEST to analyze the stories and narratives
produced by the girls as they worked to make sense of their own identities, mindsets, and
relationships while grappling with the concept of discipline.
Finally, I recognize that my own positionality as a researcher is a framework. This mirror,
which was discussed in depth in Chapter 1, reflects how I view others, including my research
participants, policy makers, and the community in which I live and in which the girls in my study
live.
37
Methodology: Youth Participatory Action Research (YPAR)
Participatory action research (PAR) is an approach to research in which participants –
youth (YPAR), community members, or members of other groups who often are positioned as
objects of study – partner with researchers to act as coresearchers and creators of knowledge
(Smith et al., 2012). The purpose of PAR and YPAR is for the participants to identify problems
within their own community as well as targeted solutions and stakeholders who can enact those
solutions, rather than allowing researchers to identify problems to study within a community
that is often one in which they are not a member (Jordan, 2003; Smith et al., 2012).
A key word in YPAR is action: through their research, youth and their coresearchers do
not merely identify social problems or describe their reality; the end goal is social change
regarding the problems the participants have identified (Jordan, 2003; Sutherland & Cheng,
2009). Another key concept within participatory research is voice. While some scholars speak of
PAR and YPAR as important in “giving” participants a voice to express their needs (Jennings &
Lowe, 2013; Leafgren, 2012; Sutherland & Cheng, 2009), I assert that everyone has a voice and
that some voices are merely oppressed to the point of silence. The work of YPAR and other
participatory research is to act as a megaphone.
The girls in this study set goals for changes they wanted to see in their community,
based on their experiences of overdiscipline. They identified stakeholders – potential
changemakers – and made suggestions for policy change within their school district.
38
Theoretical Frameworks: Black Girl Standpoint Theory, Critical Race Theory, Intersectionality
I have chosen to frame this study using the theoretical tenets provided within Black Girl
Standpoint Theory, Critical Race Theory and Intersectionality Theory. Black Girls Standpoint
and Intersectionality go hand in hand. The two principles share the viewpoint that, specific to
this study, Black girls are physically, emotionally, and structurally located at the intersection of
multiple forms of discrimination (Crenshaw, 1989, 1991; Reynolds, 2019). Critical Race Theory
provides a structure on which both other theories are also built (Breeden, 2021; Joseph et al.,
2021, Velez & Spencer, 2018). Each is discussed next.
Black Girl Standpoint Theory
Black Girl Standpoint Theory positions Black girls as the central focus of research
(Lindsey, 2015). The operative word being “girlhood,” this theory specifies the intersectional
experiences of Black girls as unique to them alone (Crenshaw, 1989, 1991). Scholars and
researchers who write and work using Black Girl Standpoint include Ruth Nicole Brown (2013),
bell hooks (1989, 1992), Treva Lindsey (2015), Bettina Love (2016, 2019), Aja Reynolds (2019),
and Claudine Taaffe (2016), among others. These authors and activists celebrate all that Black
girlhood is and use counterstorytelling to dispel myths and lies that attempt to saddle Black
girls with harmful stereotypes. This dissertation employs Black Girl Standpoint as its base,
recognizing that the stories and voices of Black girls must be heard in order to get a complete
picture of their individual and collective experiences.
Critical Race Theory (CRT)
CRT is a legal set of theories which aims, among other goals, to disrupt the idea that
racism is abnormal in U.S. society (Ladson-Billings, 2009; Yosso, 2005). Scholars of Critical Race
39
Theory value storytelling as a means of exploring race and racism. While critical legal scholars
recognize that legal language in this country continues to perpetuate hierarchies that not only
include whites over Blacks and other people of color, but male over female, and rich over poor,
critical race theorists argue specifically for racial realism (Ladson-Billings, 2009). In considering
how structures and systems are set up to perpetuate the consistent dominance of Whiteness in
public education, CRT provides an ideal jumping off point in which to critically examine these
structures, because CRT is transdisciplinary: it gives space to draw from ethnic studies,
women’s studies, sociology, and many other fields (Yosso, 2005).
CRT understands and explains all social inequities through the lens of race (Dumas &
ross, 2016). While some might theorize that not everything that happens in a given day is
racially charged or motivated, critical race theorists submit that virtually everything is in some
way touched by the constructs of race and the inequities that are subsequently formed
(Ladson-Billings, 2009).
There are seven tenets of CRT: a) when racial equality benefits the interests of
whites/dominant groups, interest convergence is performed; b) white people will seek to
protect Whiteness, a property which comes with inherent benefits and privileges; c)
“chronicling the experiences of people of color” (Burrell-Craft, 2020, p. 12) must be done,
through counter-storytelling and experiential knowledge, in order to dismantle dominant
narratives; d) “liberal” concepts such as colorblindness and race neutrality are not objective, do
not remedy issues of inequity, and must be critiqued; e) Black people endure multiple and
intersecting forms of discrimination based on race, gender, class, and other subordinated
identities; f) systemic racism and power dynamics are ever-present in our society and must be
40
addressed realistically, because they will never totally be eradicated; and g) scholars engaging
in CRT are dedicated to establishing a socially just society through activism (Burrell-Craft,
2020). For the purposes of this study and situating systemic racism – as well as systemic
oppression. These terms are defined below.
Intersectionality Theory
Intersectionality, as one of the seven tenets of CRT, explains discrimination as
something that is located across the “borders” of identity. According to Crenshaw (1989,
1991), Black women’s identity, for example, cannot be separated into distinct parts but must
be viewed in their whole complexity (Breeden, 2021; Burrell-Craft, 2020; Crenshaw, 1989,
1991; Velez & Spencer, 2018). In other words, the Black girls in this study, for example, should
not be viewed as Black AND female AND youth but as Black girls who endure a very specific
gendered, racial, and ageist form of discrimination.
According to Velez and Spencer (2018), an effective way to understand how adolescent
youth develop is by understanding how they cope with and interpret their own vulnerability
DEFINITION: SYSTEMIC RACISM AND OPPRESSION
Systemic racism and oppression are ideologies, policies, and thought
processes situated across all societal systems that uphold and protect white
supremacist values. Examples of systemic oppression can include:
•
Normalizing white, heteronormative, cisgender identities
•
Anti-immigration policy targeting Black/Brown folks
•
Redlining and other housing discrimination
•
Microaggressions
•
Anti-transgender laws
(Nadal et al., 2021)
41
through an intersectional lens. In this way, adults (or in the case with YPAR, youth) can identify
the supports these adolescents need. I would argue that an intersectional YPAR approach can
be used not only with adolescents but with younger children as well.
Conceptual Framework: PVEST
Bronfenbrenner (1979) developed ecological systems theory (EST) in the 1970s to
explain how children change as they “perceive and deal with” their environment (p. 3). Later,
Spencer et al. (1997) created Phenomenological Variant Ecological Systems Theory (PVEST),
which provides a more nuanced view into individuals’ own understanding of the external
spheres of influence on their development and behavior and their response to this ecology
(Joseph et al., 2021; Spencer et al., 1997; Velez & Spencer, 2018). Using PVEST afforded me
the ability to analyze the data from the girls’ stories and conversations with me while
considering how they made sense of societal expectations and values, stereotypes, discipline
policies, and other relational aspects of their lives, as well as their own thinking (Spencer et al.,
1997).
PVEST is made up of five components (Breeden, 2021; Morton & Parsons, 2018):
INTERSECTIONALITY
The ways in which, due to their location at the intersection of race, gender, and class (and
often dis/ability and other factors), women of color – and for the purposes of this study,
Black girls – experience multiple and intersecting forms of marginalization and systemic
discrimination that:
a)
Cannot be separated out into these individual factors, and
b)
Are exponentially more damaging than the discrimination white women face
(Crenshaw, 1989, 1991)
Black girls are therefore not merely Black AND female AND young. They are Black girls and
experience discrimination uniquely because of this.
42
1) Net vulnerability relates to factors a child is born with, acquires, or chooses and
which can be perceived as either risk or protective factors.
2) Stress engagement is an actual event that a child experiences due to net
vulnerability. A stress engagement can be the result of an imbalance between risk
factors and support systems the child has in place.
3) Reactive coping mechanisms are the responses – cognitive and behavioral decisions
– that a child engages to respond to stress engagements. Coping responses can be
maladaptive or positive in terms of identity development.
4) Emerging identities, or stable coping mechanisms, are the result of a child learning
to respond the same way over time to repeated similar stressors.
5) Life-stage outcomes, which can have a reciprocal effect on a child’s experiences and
her perceptions of those experiences, are the “overall intended effects” of
engaging in identity development.
For the purposes of this study, the overall concept of PVEST is engaged, including the
use of the interlocking systems in the participants’ ecologies, to make sense of their
experiences, as told through their dialogue and storytelling. Therefore, terms such as “net
vulnerability,” “stress engagement,” and so forth are not employed. However, the concepts of
risk and support, coping responses and stressors, and identity are used to explain how the girls
made sense of their own lived experiences and to identify systems of support and risk for girls
like Audri, Samara, and Indigo who are chronically overdisciplined in school. The spheres of
PVEST are described next.
43
This diagram shows how the spheres of influence – the microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem,
macrosystem, and chronosystem – interact to influence individual development (Breeden, 2021;
Bronfenbrenner, 1979; Spencer et al., 1997). Items in boxes (i.e., “Mindset”) describe salient
characteristics in a particular sphere. Items in script font show examples of elements that may belong
to a certain sphere. For example, societal views of what it means to be Black are part of an
individual’s Macrosystem.
Figure 3.1
Diagram of Ecological Systems
44
Individual Mindset
In the findings chapters, each of which centers a different girl from the study, I discuss
the participants’ mindset as can be interpreted from the stories they told and their discussions
with me. The use of the term “mindset” is my own and not derived from literature on PVEST.
Rather, this developed from analysis of the data and a need to name the desire for all three
girls to have their identities and values recognized. Because the data revealed not just identity
factors but also a vast array of emotions and values, the term “mindset” was chosen. Had this
been a psychology thesis, perhaps this term might have been replaced with “internal working
model,” which might require more in-depth psychological analysis.
Each girl in this study valued empathy and seeking to understand/be understood (e.g.,
seeking context). All of them experienced incidents in which they were misunderstood by
peers, school staff, police, and/or their parents, and due to this, formed strong opinions around
MINDSET
How a participant in this study thinks, what she values, and how she operates,
based on her experiences.
SEEKING CONTEXT
A form of empathic understanding, in which a person suspends judgment in
favor of seeking to understand another individual’s or group’s unique
circumstances. Context seeking is often overlooked in instances where
“objectivity” seems warranted (i.e., where officials attempt to use the same set
of rules for all children.)
However, such objectivity tends to be based on white-
normed rules and values and is therefore not truly objective (Evans-Winters &
Esposito, 2010; Yosso, 2005).
45
this concept. Therefore, I define this term above as an important element of their collective
mindset.
The Microsystem
The microsystem includes the activities, roles, and relationships as well as settings that
are situated most closely to an individual (Bronfenbrenner, 1979). This can include the home,
school, and for adolescents, workplaces, along with the people found within these settings.
Immediate family members, peers, teachers and other school staff, coworkers, and others who
are close to an individual are placed within the microsystem (Bronfenbrenner, 1979).
The microsystem is the place where much early identity development and psychological
growth occurs for a child. In fact, infants are not aware of the other systems in their ecology
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979). Children whose microsystems are lacking in diverse perspectives or
representation – such as schools with all or mostly white teachers, for instance – may internalize
negative perceptions about children’s own and others’ social groups (Nadal et al., 2021).
It is important to note that the layered systems within a person’s ecology are fluid and
changing. Ecological transitions occur frequently, especially for children: they transition from
one school to another, parents get divorced, friends transition in and out of their lives, and so
forth. These ecological transitions are caused by, or instigate, developmental processes
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979). It will become evident when reading the stories and thoughts of
ECOLOGICAL TRANSITION
A person’s movement within the ecological environment due to their change in
role, setting, or both (Bronfenbrenner, 1979).
46
Samara, Indigo, and Audri that many of their memorable experiences – whether they resulted
in overdiscipline or not – were related to ecological transitions. To use Audri as an example:
the birth of her daughter introduced a new person into her microsystem; the death of her
adopted father caused a person to leave her it; and the abandonment of her biological parents
and her adopted mother shifted those individuals from her microsystem – where they had an
immediate impact on her life – to her exosystem, where they were much more distant.
The Mesosystem
The mesosystem is site of interaction between settings within the microsystem
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979). According to Bronfenbrenner (1979), there are four types of
mesosystem interaction:
multisetting participation
occurs when a child splits time between
multiple locations;
indirect linkage
happens when connection is made between people in two
settings via a third party;
intersetting communication
is transmitted between settings; and
intersetting knowledge
involves information that exists in one setting about the other
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979). The settings in a person’s microsystem are often positioned to affect
one another. For example, work demands and school demands may conflict, or a child may
find herself splitting time between two parents who are divorced (Bronfenbrenner, 1979;
Newman & Newman, 2020). In the case of this study, overdiscipline is placed in the
mesosystem, as it is often the result of complex interworkings between multiple settings and
people within a child’s microsystem. For example, Samara was treated differently based on the
reputation she acquired (intersetting communication and knowledge); Audri was arrested at
school based on information her mother communicated to police (intersetting communication
47
and multisetting participation); and Indigo was suspended for things she did not do, based on
what other people said (indirect linkage) (Bronfenbrenner, 1979).
The Exosystem
The exosystem consists of settings and factors outside an individual’s immediate
environment – external sources – but that nevertheless affect them (Bronfenbrenner, 1979;
Nadal et al., 2021). Outside settings can make a dramatic impact in a child’s life. A parent’s job,
for example, can be a great source of stress or provide a major windfall, both of which can
affect everyone in the home. Exosystems may also include the larger school district, workplace
policies or administration, local government, grocery and other vendors, and municipal
services.
Elements of the exosystem impact a child when they set off a microsystem event. For
example, Bronfenbrenner (1979) explains that viewing violence on television may not
necessarily breed violent behavior. He writes that the act of watching television itself
necessitates “freezing speech and action and turning the living into silent statues” for as long
as a television show is on (p. 242). He goes on to explain that it is not the child’s behavior that
should be interrogated, but the lack of “talks, the games, of the family festivities and
arguments through which…learning takes place and character is formed” (p. 242). Thus, the
power of an exosystem element – a television studio – has the power to exert developmental
pressure on a child.
The Macrosystem
The macrosystem consists of ideologies, societal attitudes and values, and other
expectations dictated by the dominant culture, subculture, and society that affect an individual
48
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979; Nadal et al., 2021; Newman & Newman, 2020). Elements of the
macrosystem can include government educational policy, white norms and values, ableism,
systemic racism and xenophobia, gender norms, and religious values.
The Chronosystem
The chronosystem is a larger, temporal umbrella that takes into account changes and
continuities over time and their effects on an individual (Nadal et al., 2021). The Black Lives
Matter movement, criminal-legal system, patterns of overdiscipline, major life events such as
births and deaths, changes in ecological status (such as a large move or transition), and other
continuities or large movements in a child’s life affect their identity development and emotional
growth and are therefore placed in the chronosystem (Nadal et al., 2021).
Though each of these systems can be described separately, and indeed I have even
pulled them apart in the findings chapter for each participant, they are meant to be viewed as
a whole (Bronfenbrenner, 1979). As with intersectionality theory, PVEST holds that a person’s
ecology cannot be parsed into separate systems but must be viewed simultaneously, as none
of the systems operate within a vacuum (Bronfenbrenner, 1979). In the findings and discussion
chapters of this dissertation, however, each system is tackled apart from and in relation to the
others in order to better understand the spheres of influence and how they act upon the girls.
On viewing this interlocking group of spheres, it can be seen how CRT and Intersectionality are
important. If the individual in the center is a Black girl, then there are many opportunities for
discrimination, marginalization, and abuse to compound inward, stemming from the
macrosystem, through the exosystem, and onto the interrelationships of the microsystem, all of
49
which is overarched by events and structures in the chronosystem. Without interrogating the
effects of each layer, one cannot understand the whole.
The four frameworks presented in this chapter – YPAR methodology, Critical Race
Theory, Intersectionality Theory, and PVEST – along with my own positionality, address the
multifaceted ways in which forces connect in society and institutions to place pressure upon
Black girls to conform to sets of standards and norms that were not meant for them. These
multiple framings and viewpoints represent exactly what Black girls face on a daily basis:
windows, mirrors, and lenses through which they view the world and through which they are
constantly viewed, scrutinized and judged.
50
CHAPTER 4: RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY
Throughout the first three chapters, I demonstrated the need for Black girls to feel as
though they matter within the societal and institutional structures in which they are located.
Historically and in the present day, Black girls are pushed to the margins, misrepresented, and
misunderstood, with devastating consequences to their personal and collective livelihood and
mindset (Love, 2019; M.W. Morris, 2016). In this chapter, I establish how the research questions
and methods provide the participants with an avenue through which to share their unique
viewpoints. These girls’ right to matter and thrive was often disregarded in their microsystems,
especially in school settings. The goal of this project was to identify positive social and policy
change to improve the lives of girls who alternatively would be subject to overdiscipline in their
wake. This study sought to answer the following questions:
1) What is the perspective of Black girls who have been overdisciplined in school?
2) What lived experiences and stories do participants feel are important in shaping
their mindset?
3) How might participation in a youth participatory action research (YPAR) project
reveal important ecological systems and structures in the lives of Black girls who
experience overdiscipline?
This project was conducted as a Youth Participatory Action Research (YPAR) study and
was viewed through the lenses of Critical Race Theory and Intersectionality Theory. The data
were then analyzed using Phenomenological Variant Ecological Systems Theory (PVEST).
PVEST maintains that a person’s own sense-making (phenomenology) of their socialization and
their social position is crucial to understanding their development. Rather than positioning
51
children as subjects to be studied, YPAR researchers partner with them to “critically analyze
social structures,” and by becoming so engaged, children do not internalize the oppressive
sociocultural factors to the same degree they may have prior to their involvement in the YPAR
project (Smith et al., 2012, p. 5).
A movement as well as a theoretical lens, CRT involves counterstorytelling to critically
examine unjust distribution of power and naturally lends itself to the YPAR approach (Burrell-
Craft, 2020). Velez and Spencer (2018) contend that important elements from Intersectionality
Theory naturally connect with the interlocking spheres of PVEST, as intersectionality is the
study of interlocking systems of oppression.
This project was designed for Black girls to have freedom of choice and expression
along with the agency to make decisions and changes to the project along the way (Ornelas et
al., 2009; Smith et al., 2012; Wang, 2006). They decided the direction of the project and the
call-to-action for the community. The participants in this study, Black girls who had been
overdisciplined in school, are part of a small and intersectional – and very vulnerable – part of
the community (Baumle, 2018; Bright et al., 2014; Marston et al., 2012; M.W. Morris, 2016;
Ritchie, 2017; Reynolds, 2019). They represent an important point of view which must be
heard, in hooks’ words, “Coming to voice is an act of resistance. Speaking becomes both a way
to engage in active self-transformation and a rite of passage where one moves from being
object to being subject. Only as subjects can we speak” (hooks, 1989, p. 12). Since no one can
know what it is like to experience life in the way that these girls have, it is necessary to listen to
their narratives in their own voices (Zembylas, 2002). Change cannot be made in the name of
Black girls if the research behind it does not include their voices.
52
In keeping with the tenets of both Critical Race Theory and Intersectionality Theory
(Burrell-Craft, 2020; Crenshaw, 1989, 1991), I focused on storytelling and paid attention to the
concepts of space, power, voice, and deficit narratives throughout data collection and analysis
(M. Davis, 2008; Dumas & ross, 2016; Jennings & Lowe, 2013). The participants in this study
had been overdisciplined, arrested, suspended, and repeatedly removed from educational
spaces. Schools are institutions in which Black girls have historically been stripped of power,
their voices historically silenced, and their bodies historically located as sites of violence
(Alexander, 2010; Baumle, 2018, hooks, 1989; Love, 2019; Lynch et al., 2012; Meiners, 2007;
M.W. Morris, 2016; Wun, 2016b). By centering this project around theories which placed their
stories at the forefront and asking them to make crucial decisions about the direction of the
project, we interrupted those cycles of silence and violence.
Originally, this project was designed using the Photovoice methodology, which also
involves the YPAR approach but includes photography as a form of self-expression. The project
was changed from Photovoice to YPAR when the participants struggled with the original
methodology, coupled with their own personal life demands. However, as a YPAR approach,
Photovoice involves the sharing of narratives and storytelling by participants, which provides an
increased understanding of their needs and assets. The intention was to engage in a peer
review process which would involve reviewing stories and considering portions of those
narratives for inclusion in a presentation to the community, to accompany the participants’ self-
portraits. This end goal did not come to fruition, but much useful and rich data was produced
in the form of the girls’ narratives and stories, as well as a strong call-to-action.
53
Research Context Design
Setting
Okunye is one of approximately 80 schools in Illinois which are considered Regional
Safe School Programs (RSSPs). According to the Illinois State Board of Education (2020), the
purposes of RSSPs are 1) to “increase safety and promote learning in schools,” and 2) to meet
the educational needs of “disruptive” students in alternative environments. The program
began in 1997 and serves students in grades 6 through 12 (Illinois State Board of Education,
2020). The social workers at Okunye explained to me that students who attend RSSPs are
referred by their home schools through a district referral process. Okunye is located in a small-
urban city in Illinois and serves “at risk” youth from two counties. Participants for this study
were recruited from Okunye with the help of social workers at the school.
Participants
Three Black teenage girls – Audri, Samara, and Indigo – participated in this study, along
with two social workers at Okunye. When the study commenced, Audri was eighteen, Samara
was seventeen, and Indigo was sixteen years old, and all of them had been expelled from their
local high school in their freshman year after a series of suspensions for various acts that
ranged from fighting to merely being suspected of committing an offense.
Audri was a young mother with a one-year-old daughter. Originally adopted at the age
of six weeks, Audri became pregnant at the age of sixteen, causing already tense relations
between herself and her adopted mother to worsen. Her adopted father died a month after her
daughter, Amaya, was born. Shortly thereafter, when Amaya was three months old and just as
the COVID-19 pandemic was beginning, Audri’s mother kicked her out of the house and then
54
moved out of state, removing any chance of Audri returning home. At the time of the study,
Audri and Amaya were living with a guardian – a teacher at Okunye – and pursuing her GED.
Samara was an emancipated minor who lived with her boyfriend. She had a close
relationship with her mother but explained that she moved out because she does not like
“being around a lot of people.” Samara worked evenings at a local big-box store and went to
school at Okunye during the day. She did not have a relationship with her father but was close
with her grandmother and siblings.
Indigo lived with her grandmother and older sister, while her younger brother lived with
their mother. Indigo did not have a relationship with her father by choice, and this will be
discussed in her chapter. Indigo worked evenings at the same big-box store as Samara, though
they did not know each other at the start of the study. She commuted with her sister, who
worked at the same location and had a car and attended school at Okunye during the day.
I chose to work with this age group for two important reasons. First, Black girls who are
subjected to overdiscipline practices have historically been silenced (Baumle, 2018; Crenshaw,
1989; M.W. Morris, 2016). This study explored the concepts of mindset, Blackness, criminality,
Black girlhood, structures of risk and support, and the use of storytelling. Therefore, it was
necessary to find girls who were old enough to have experiences on which to draw. Being over
the age of sixteen and therefore in the older bracket of “Black female youths,” Indigo, Samara,
and Audri had many years of experience upon which to speak.
The second reason for choosing this age group involved what I was asking of the
participants. During the recruitment process, they were asked whether they had access to
childhood photos of themselves, which meant that first they had to find these images, and this
55
included a not-small amount of discomfort. All three girls were separated from close family
members, and just the finding of old photos held the potential for bringing up painful
memories. We then discussed these photos during the first phase of the project, which is
detailed below. One aim of the study was for participants to explore how they viewed
themselves when the photos were taken, compared to their current selves. They were
encouraged to discuss both happy and painful experiences – or anything in between – which
they felt shaped who they were and their personal mindset.
Naturally, one of the risks of the study was the potential for crisis when bringing up
traumatic memories. By choosing older girls, I hoped to reduce the risk of retraumatization,
which might be higher if working with younger girls on this topic. This was not a mental health
study. As a YPAR project, it was a personal exploration for the purpose of empowerment and
social change (Wang & Burris, 1994). However, there is a lot to unpack when exploring
childhood events in any project (Baumle, 2018; Marston et al., 2012). Retraumatization was not
the goal of this study.
In the review of literature, I discussed the concept of adultification of Black youth. Black
girls are frequently treated as though they are much older than their actual age and held
accountable to act as though they are older (Burton, 2007; Epstein et al., 2017; Meiners, 2015;
Reynolds, 2019). When they do act their age, such as making mistakes, throwing tantrums, or
“acting out,” they are punished, and at much harsher levels than their White counterparts
(Burton, 2007). However, in this work I asked Samara, Audri, and Indigo to explain things that
they had encountered that many adults have not, such as early emancipation, working long and
late hours while attending school, and caring for a child at a young age.
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The girls who participated in this project stood to benefit from it by exploring how their
past experiences shaped their mindsets and how they viewed themselves. They were invited to
work together to define objectives for the project and set goals for social change. These are
among the aims of YPAR work (Smith et al., 2012; Wang & Burris, 1997). All the girls in this
study had experienced various levels of being pushed out of school and also into the hands of
the criminal-legal system, whether by family or by school staff. It is clear from looking at the
existing research that Black girls rarely are explicitly at fault for this pushout (Baumle, 2018;
Love, 2019; M.W. Morris, 2016; Reynolds, 2019). This project is transformative in that it allows
for the negative experiences of the participants to become acts of empowerment. By handing
participants the reins and asking them which stories they would like their communities to hear
and how their experiences have affected their individual and collective mindsets, this project
demands that their truth to be heard (Brown, 2013).
Recruitment
Some Black girls have a unique and fraught relationship with school and the criminal-
legal system, along with a history of being silenced, as was discussed at length in Chapter 2
(Bright et al., 2014; Butler, 2018; M.W. Morris, 2012; Wun, 2016a). Through this project,
participants were asked to speak out and bring their stories to the forefront. As discussed
above, it was determined that Black girls, ages 15-18, who had been overdisciplined would be
ideal candidates for this study. Participants would ideally have access to childhood photos of
themselves, as these photos would be discussed during the first phase of the study. The social
workers at Okunye contacted several girls who fit the description and sent them an online
recruitment flyer I created (see Appendix D).
57
Recruiting interviews involved me introducing myself, a brief overview of my teaching
background, and reasons for becoming a researcher. This included explaining that I worked
solely with Black and Brown kids for many years and witnessed my students being silenced,
suspended, frustrated, and angry, but when I attempted to speak out, I was told that the
actions of other teachers and administrators were justified due to the behavior or mindset of
the students in question, or that I did not know what I was talking about. I shared that I went
back to school in order to learn more about how I could make change for my students, and
that led to this project. I then explained the project goals, asking participants their age, where
they went to school, and a cursory question about their experiences with discipline in school.
Next, I described the length of the project, phases, and the original goal which was
presentation of self-portraits. I then invited questions, of which they only had one: when do we
start?
Recruitment resulted in two sets of girls (Appendix H): Alpha Group, who joined in May
and June of 2020 but dropped out due to multiple factors including the lack of structure of
summer and the pandemic; and Beta Group, who joined later that year. Alpha Group began
with the recruitment of Cherri, who was an enthusiastic participant and remains in contact with
me to this day. The social workers provided me with a list of approximately eight candidates for
the study, including Samara, whom they had approached to gauge interest and received
permission to give me their contact information. However, when I called the girls on the list, I
had difficulty getting anyone to answer or return my messages. In fact, several times I was hung
up on as soon as I began to introduce myself.
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After careful consideration, I noted my positionality as a factor. The girls who were
being recruited had all had very negative experiences at their public schools, for years. Most
teachers are white, middle-class women – and so am I. If I were one of the girls on the list, and
I got a random call from me, I would hang up too. I turned to Cherri to help with snowball
sampling, which proved quite useful, and two more girls – Anna and Mikki – quickly joined.
However, the project never got off the ground. Anna and Mikki had difficulty
remembering appointment times with me, and then Cherri lost her job, her phone, and her
apartment all in the same week. By the end of June, all three girls had dropped out of the
study. In the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, which was only gaining momentum, I used
the summer to regroup. Together with the social workers at Okunye, I devised a plan to
support future study participants, whose lives were complicated even without a deadly,
worldwide pandemic to worry about.
In the fall of 2020, I renewed my recruitment efforts, this time during school hours and
with a social worker “in the room” – I Zoomed first with the social worker, who then pulled a
potential candidate from class to come speak with me. This way, there was a trusted person in
the room, and each potential participant could gauge my sincerity and learn about the project.
Our efforts were successful, and first Audri, then Navi, Samara, and lastly Indigo joined. Sadly,
Navi chose not to go through with the study due to a tragic event that occurred just as the
project was beginning. The project continued with Audri, Samara, and Indigo.
Protection of Privacy
Originally, the girls decided that they wanted to share their true identities, in the final
presentation of this work. They wanted to own their stories in sharing their full selves. However,
59
I am now tasked with protecting their identities, since I am no longer in touch with them
(explained later) and cannot verify that is still their desire. All names, cities, schools, and other
names have been changed to protect the privacy of the participants.
Storytelling/Narrative
During the process of working both together and one-on-one with me, participants
shared stories of their lived experiences through free discussion and open-ended interviews.
The girls’ narratives and stories were crucial in understanding the extent to which their
experiences of overdiscipline had affected them, along with the impact that the sources of risk
and support had on their lives and their mindset. The numbers paint a clear picture of how
Black girls are factually overdisciplined (Epstein et al., 2017; Evans-Winters & Esposito, 2010;
Marston et al., 2012; M.W. Morris, 2012). Storytelling “establishes a common experience
between teller and listener, creating a connection between them” (Banks-Wallace, 2002, p.
411). Perhaps it is in this way that the perpetual oppression, silencing, and removal of Black
girls may be attended to.
Interview Style: Semi-Structured Conversations
Due to the nature of the research and its aims, interviews with the participants were
semi-structured: sessions were conversational, interactive, and critical. I began with one to
three planned and intentional questions at the beginning of each session, some consistent
across participants and some that were different for each participant and were selected based
on the last conversation we had. Frequently, I entered with goals for the girls, such as “Discuss
her expulsion.” The third session for each participant was dedicated to teaching them the
60
lenses of identity (Gee, 2000). The majority of each session was spent in open discussion that
was catalyzed by my prompting.
The first question I asked all participants was simply, “Who are you?” Some days I
asked, “What’s new?” In each session, I allowed conversations to grow from there, as I
followed the participant’s lead. In this way, rapport and trust developed. However, the end
goal was clear (and was stated when I introduced the study), as I sought to learn from each
participant her thoughts concerning, “As a Black girl, what are your experiences with
overdiscipline, and how have they shaped you?”
Audri, Samara, and Indigo came to the Zoom space with varying degrees of life
experience or lack thereof when discussing intersectional issues such as race and gender and
their relationship to discipline and societal norms in the ways that were necessary for this
project. This was evidenced when Samara stated in our second session, “I don’t always think
this deep.” This signaled to me that I was asking her probing questions that caused her to
reflect in ways that were atypical for her. Merging many of these topics together was necessary
during our conversations: for instance, race, gender, and age are interconnected in matters of
discipline for Black girls (Reynolds, 2019), and so at times, I offered my opinion, shared
research, or asked direct questions about the impact of experiences the girls shared to guide
conversation back to the goal topics.
Had I been working with adults with more life experience and/or time to contemplate
their intersectional identities, I may have approached conversations differently. In other words,
a question posed to one of the girls, “Do you think you would have been treated differently if
you were white?” may not need to be asked to an adult who has already considered this. This
61
is not to say that girls of this age do not think along these lines. On the contrary, they had
many thoughts and opinions on these topics. However, their ways of expressing this
knowledge varied, and they sometimes struggled to come up with the words to describe their
thoughts or feelings. Therefore, it was necessary to follow their lead and then ask probing
questions at times. Butler (2018) maintains that sustaining and protecting sites where critical
discourse and self-love can be shared “requires a commitment of engaging in an ongoing
dialogue with past, present, and future Black girls and women” (p. 33), centering their stories
and having explicit conversations. Butler calls for more Black women to work with Black girls,
and I had no intention of replacing this sisterhood. I did, however, choose to engage the girls
in these critical conversations rather than merely act as a recorder.
Alternatively, I may have chosen to leave matters of intersectionality unattended to and
then written about the findings as null if the girls had not addressed them. However, the
primary aim of this project was to discover and listen to the perspectives of Black girls who are
overdisciplined,
perspectives which are undertheorized and underrepresented in extant
research
(Bae-Dimitriadis & Evans-Winters, 2017; Butler, 2018; Docket & Perry, 2005; Graham
et al., 2013; Lutrell, 2010). Their Black girlhood presumes perspectives of race, gender, and
age that cannot be ignored. Leaving these perspectives undiscovered would not serve to fill
this gap.
Intervention
Phase I
The purpose for this phase, initially, was three-fold: 1) To collect participants’ stories
about past experiences of overdiscipline; 2) To teach participants about the four identity lenses
62
(Gee, 2000), which were employed to drive inquiry about mindset and how the girls viewed
themselves; and 3) To discover how participants viewed themselves as past- and present self,
which set up participants for exploring present- and future-self in Phase II. These three
purposes aligned with the goals of YPAR of increasing participants’ critical consciousness and
individual empowerment (Sutherland & Cheng, 2009), documenting a portion of their lives to
bring about an understanding of their needs and assets, and enacting social change.
Table 4.1
Phase I Planned Timeline – Concise (all sessions one-on-one)
Week
Session
Activity
1
1
• Consent forms verified, get to know each other, begin exploring
childhood photographs
2
2
• Continue building rapport and trust and exploring childhood photos
3
• Introduce and explore Identity as a Lens, connect to stories of
overdiscipline
3
4
• Continue themes from Session 3, prep to meet group next week
• Questions? Goals, hopes for group week?
Each participant worked one-on-one with me using Zoom video conferencing to
communicate. Though I would have preferred to conduct this study in person, Zoom was an
ideal online solution for holding meetings, and we used it for all sessions during the study,
since all schools in Illinois were closed due to the pandemic. Zoom featured the ability to have
video and audio calls, though because the project centered the use of storytelling and
photography, we used the video call option. As a University of Illinois graduate student, I was
able to use Zoom for unlimited time and set up dedicated repeated meeting links for each
participant, making the fifteen, 1.5-hour sessions easy to plan.
63
It was estimated that Phase I would take up to four 1.5-hour sessions (see Table 4.1). In
total, I actually met with Audri seven times, Samara four times, and Indigo five times during this
Phase. The social workers at Okunye suggested that all sessions be conducted during mid-
morning or early afternoon. Though I took their advice, not all sessions worked out, as can be
gleaned from Appendix E. I learned to be very patient while waiting on Zoom and developed a
“15 minutes and out” rule for myself, in which I waited on Zoom for fifteen minutes past a
scheduled meeting time before signing off and sending a note to participants asking a) if they
were ok, b) how I could support them, and c) when they would like to reschedule. The life
demands on all three girls made sleep a valuable commodity, especially for Audri who was
raising a child of her own. Both Indigo and Samara found it difficult to be awake and functional
before noon, as neither of them got off work before 10:30 PM on most nights. This also
affected their ability to attend school and is discussed in greater depth in their individual
chapters. I became intimately familiar with their school and work schedules and was mindful of
the time the girls dedicated to the project.
Sharing Photographs
During Phase I, participants shared childhood photos. I had planned to use Zoom’s
“Share Screen” feature for participants to share photos if they had saved photos to their
devices or on social media. However, they all found it easiest to text me the photos, and then I
shared my screen with them while we discussed the images and their stories.
Indigo, Audri, and Samara found many photos to share. I had requested that they find
one or two from various age groups, suggesting ages four or five, eight or nine, and perhaps
twelve or middle school age. What they brought to my Zoom meetings surprised me, given
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that they were not all in close contact with their parents. Rather than contact them, the girls
mined the social media pages of their parents and other family members and scrolled through
their own phones, on which – to their own surprise at times – they found photos from when
they were quite young.
My reasoning for asking for images beginning at age four is that this is the age at which
most children first enter school and begin to encounter life outside the home on a broader
level. Children begin to form social or racial stereotypes at about age three (van Ausdale &
Feagin, 2001). However, as pointed out in Chapter 1, Black children are suspended from
preschool at much higher rates than are white children (NPR, 2018). Because there is a direct
link between suspension rates and the school-to-prison nexus, starting at this age at our
photographic investigation made sense. However, Indigo, for example, shared photos of
herself ranging from eight-months to present day. Samara’s photos went back to age three. I
found that, although the child in the picture may not have been processing her social structure
or reckoning her racial status, the girl in front of me did just that as she looked at her younger
self.
The childhood photos the girls chose were important to them for various reasons. Audri
found an entire video of herself at age twelve playing with her younger brother, which her
father, since deceased, had filmed. The video was central to Audri’s narrative because it
represented a moment when she was happy and her father was alive. Each photograph and
story provided an onramp to deeper discussions of the self. We explored how these
photographs connected to the girls’ views of themselves and related to their experiences of
65
overdiscipline. Critical Dialogue Questions (see below and Appendix A) were used at times to
help facilitate discussion.
Critical Dialogue Questions
Though it was rarely needed because the girls generally had much to say and needed
little prompting, I had on hand a series of questions designed to help them to reflect on their
childhood photographs during the project. The purpose of the questions was to engage
participants in dialogue that would be meaningful to them about their experiences. Critical
Dialogue Questions (Appendix A) are derived from Freire’s SHOWeD critical dialogue
technique (Grieb, et al., 2013). 1) What do you see in this photograph? 2) What is happening in
this photograph? 3) How does this relate to our lives? 4) Why does this situation, concern, or
strength exist? 5) How can we become empowered by our new understanding? 6) What can we
do about it? (Chonody, et al., 2012; Grieb, et al., 2013, Strack et al., 2004). The SHOWeD
technique is based on the following: What do you
S
ee here? What is really
H
appening? How
does this relate to
O
ur lives?
W
hy does this problem/strength exist? The above questions were
not all relevant to the pondering of childhood photos, and in the rare instances that we used
them, I developed more appropriate dialogic questions for these photos.
Phase I primarily focused on the girls sharing any stories they wanted, from their past all
the way up to the present, the feelings these stories brought up (including any feelings of
trauma), questions or thoughts they brought to mind, and their connecting all this back to
sense of self (past self and present self).
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Pedagogy: Identity as a Lens
During these first sessions we explored the four types of Identity as a lens (Gee, 2000).
Recalling from Chapter 2 and Appendix B, these four ways to view identity are natural,
institutional, discursive, and affinity. Natural identity (Figure B1) is determined by forces outside
one’s control. Vocations, “callings,” and other types of identifying markers indicate institutional
identity or identifying traits which are “authorized” by institutions such as schools, the
government, or even society (Figure B2). The third of Gee’s lenses is discourse identity.
Discursive identity traits are usually applied in relation with or connection to other people (Gee,
2000, Figure B2). The fourth lens, affinity identity, allows people to bond with others who are
like-minded (Figure B2).
The example of being Black as part of one’s identity was given in Chapter 2. Blackness
is at once natural, discursive, institutional, and affinitive, as we see when Black girls struggle to
be accepted in school while wearing hairstyles which conflict with school dress code policies.
While Black hair is a part of their natural identity and is a way for them to maintain affinity with
other Black girls, institutional practices within schools, which can be rooted in White norms,
and discourse among teachers and administrators, function to oppress Black girls (Dumas &
ross, 2016; Evelyn, 2020; Lattimore, 2017; Lindsey, 2013).
During Phase I, the girls connected their stories, thoughts, and questions to their new
knowledge of identity (see Appendix B). Together, we explored how the four ways to view
identity are interwoven.
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Goal Setting
Before meeting as a group for the first time, each girl set individual goals for
themselves with regard to the project. When they met together for the first time, they
identified an audience for their project – district administrators and school board members –
and began to set group goals, which included tasking these stakeholders with taking a hard
look at the reasons behind the discipline policies that were in place and had pushed them out
of school.
Attrition
In January of 2021, Samara contracted the COVID-19 virus and missed school for ten
days. She was unable to join me over Zoom, reporting severe illness, and we had to reschedule
our first group session multiple times. Finally, Samara recovered enough to make it to our
group session, and though she shared that she was exhausted, she contributed wonderful
insights and served as a voice of support and reason during the session. That was the last that I
saw of Samara. She dropped out of the program at Okunye. Reports from her social workers,
after weeks of trying to get in touch with her, stated that she was unresponsive to their calls. I
left voicemail and text messages, to no avail. We concluded that Samara, living as an adult,
with job demands and ongoing health concerns from COVID, may have simply reorganized her
priorities.
Audri disappeared suddenly as well, though perhaps not so quietly. At the beginning of
February, she excitedly told me that she had found an apartment for herself and Amaya.
However, closer to the move date, she seemed stressed out, and she expressed trepidation.
When the time came for our next session, Audri did not appear on the Zoom screen, nor did
68
she return my calls or messages. I contacted the social workers and her guardian, and over the
course of a few weeks I learned that Audri, who had been mere weeks from earning her GED,
was dropped from the program due to non-attendance. She had also caused a disturbance at
school and was having difficulty at her new apartment. At the time of the dissertation defense, I
had not received a response from Audri, despite reaching out to her periodically to offer
support. Again, on contemplating the situation with her social workers and with her guardian, I
am left with the thought that Audri was overwhelmed by her sudden independence, which as
most adults discover is never as freeing as we imagine it to be. Rather, the paralyzing weight of
responsibility can feel suffocating.
Phase II
The original plan was for participants to work one-on-one with me also and together as
a group (with all three participants and myself) during Phase II to explore their identity, learn
the elements of photography and self-portrait, and ultimately produce their own self-portraits.
However, once Audri and Samara left the study, Indigo expressed frustration. She had
embarked on the product expecting to work with other Black girls to help discover things
about her own identity, which she had not discovered yet, and suddenly she found herself
alone.
I explained to Indigo that because this was a YPAR project, she was under no obligation
to move forward with a design or goals that she did feel comfortable with. When I offered her
to option of ending the project prematurely, she expressed that she wanted to finish the
project. I suggested redesigning the study to better suit her. However, Indigo was not sure
where to begin.
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When discussing the concept of school discipline, all three girls had questions
surrounding who made the rules, where the impetus for school discipline had originated, and
why adults seemed to feel they had blanket authority to punish and judge children they did not
know without context. From listening to the girls’ questions and frustration, I had begun to
contemplate how the district code of conduct had been used as a device by which to enforce
this authority and subjugate Black girls.
I wondered what Indigo’s thoughts might be on how the school district code of conduct
had been used as a device in all three girls’ school experience, to support their removal from
the classroom and from school through the use of detention, suspension, and expulsion. I
proposed that we examine the language in the code of conduct to see what questions Indigo
had and perhaps make suggestions to the district for changing the document that could
benefit girls like her who had been harmed by it. This was in line with the original intent of
forwarding Black girls’ voices and stories, as well as creating social change, and Indigo was very
interested in this idea. Phase II of the study involved only Indigo and consisted of one Zoom
session which lasted nearly two hours. During this session, I shared my screen with her and
pulled up the sixty-seven-page district code of conduct (District, 2021), which she had never
seen. We started with a general overview of the document, and then Indigo became interested
CODE OF CONDUCT
“A set of principles, expectations, and/or rules that are given to students and
parents to make sure that the expectations that the school has for behavior are
clearly communicated to them…They also indicate how the adults will provide
and enforce behavioral expectations.” (University of Nebraska, Student
Engagement Project, 2014)
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in the list of thirty-seven acts labeled as “gross disobedience or misconduct” (See Appendix F,
Figure F1).
Threats to Staff: Bomb or NOT Bomb?
On first glance, Indigo decided that everything on the list looked straightforward. On
her second pass, she looked more carefully. This time she noticed that the first infraction on the
list, alarms and bomb threats, seemed like a much graver offense than, for example, tardiness,
which was number twenty-two. We created two lists: “Bomb” and “Not-Bomb” and began re-
categorizing the list of offenses (Appendix G).
Indigo decided that arson, harassment, and physical confrontation with staff should go
on the “Bomb” list, but misuse of computers, disobedience, disruptive behavior, and misuse of
electronic devices such as cell phones should go on the “Not Bomb” list. She then created a
“Question” list for offenses she felt needed more context-seeking from teachers or
administrators before passing judgment or punishment. Finally, she removed several items
from the list that she explained were not punishable infractions, but actions children took due
to life circumstances, such as tardiness or loitering (see Appendix G). The results of Indigo’s
work will be published later as a sub-study of this larger one.
Ethnographic Refusal
To quote Indigenous Canadian scientist and researcher Max Liboiron, “my capacity to
do harm far exceeds my intentions” (Liboiron, 2020). In this project, it was imperative that I do
the work of taking a step back to honor the stories and voices of the girls who were there to do
their own work of self-exploration. I define “honor” as an uplifting and valuing of the lived
experiences, embodiment, and spaces in which the participants in this study have moved, or by
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contrast, been contained, and the stories, emotions, silences, and other forms of expression
that have come out of those experiences, embodiments, and spaces. Audri, Samara, and
Indigo were given the choice, upon review of their own and each other’s work, not to share it
with the community at all or allow me to publish it. This was their prerogative. One of the
ultimate goals in YPAR projects is individual empowerment. Inviting participants to refuse their
contribution to be published put the power of their stories squarely within their own domain.
Unfortunately, I lost the ability to consult with all three girls on this end product: the
dissertation thesis. While all three girls signed permission to use their stories, likenesses, and
work in this and other presentations, my personal goal was to have them with me to the end so
that they might be involved in selecting which stories they felt were most important to share
and curating the sharing of their narratives. Sadly, I have been unable to reach Audri or Samara
to accomplish this, and I lost touch with Indigo two months prior to this writing. I have
therefore felt the enormous weight of making sure that I represent the girls in ways that would
make them proud to have participated in this project and confident that its sharing will effect
change.
Data Collection
We began the project with an exploration of past photographs, examining how each
girl related her sense of “past self” with her idea of herself in the present and her plans for the
future. This part of the project focused heavily on storytelling from the girls’ past and present
and was very productive. The girls not only produced a wealth of data in the form of stories
which related to their experiences of discipline and topics such as family, love, empathy,
power, but they also responded enthusiastically to questions I came prepared to ask. With the
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exception of the first session for each girl, these questions I asked were often follow-ups to
something one of them had said in a previous session.
All three participants struggled with taking new photographs of themselves to share,
making the collection of new photographs impossible, and eventually bringing about a change
in project direction. The girls struggled – hard – to send even a single selfie to the group or
even to me privately, in an attempt to dip their toes into self-portrait waters.
Audri, Samara, and Indigo were continually involved in the direction of the project, and
our sessions were a mixture of semi-structured and open interviews, with each session built
upon the next. We discussed ahead of time that there would be an audience for their work –
which the girls ultimately decided would be district administrators – and they set a goal for
district policy change. This allowed me to come to each session prepared with two to three
initial questions for each girl, or with follow-up questions to thoughts from our last session, and
they knew to expect questions or explorations into concepts such as discipline, mindset, and
identity. For example, at one point I asked Samara, “What do you think that teachers see when
they look at Black girls in their classroom?” Samara, knowing that the project was centered
around overdiscipline and that we wanted to change how Black girls were viewed, had a focus
for her thinking.
Data
Data included audio and video recordings and field notes from thirty-six sessions with
Audri, Samara, Indigo, and the two social workers. These data included seven “failed”
sessions, during which I sat alone and reflected aloud, while Zoom recorded, upon the
circumstances that each participant was grappling with at the time. Total video/audio recording
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data equaled more than thirty hours (Appendix E). Data also included text message
correspondence between participants and me.
I used Zoom’s proprietary automatic video transcription as a starting point for
transcribing video sessions, but I spent many hours cleaning these transcripts, as Zoom did not
do well interpreting the words of the girls, who spoke with heavy Chicago/Midwestern African
American Vernacular English and often ran words together (“i-on-no” for “I don’t know” was
interpreted by Zoom as “oh no,” for example). I also took hand-written field notes and
screenshots of text message communication between the girls and myself. All data were stored
in a password-protected Box account provided by the university. Most data came in the form
of stories told during our Zoom sessions.
Storytelling and Narrative
The storytelling/narrative that resulted from participants’ grappling with their own sense
of self and identity, discipline experiences, racialization, and other topics during our
discussions, including the examination of their childhood photos during Phase I, produced
valuable data about the unique perspective of each participant as well as some collective
views. Samara in particular tended to answer questions and engage in inquiry through
storytelling. When she struggled to describe her feelings on an issue or find the right words to
define a concept, she would pause to consider and then use a story to illustrate what she
meant. She was less “economic” with her words than Indigo, for instance, but her stories were
compelling and allowed me to understand her thinking more clearly.
I chose storytelling as a medium for this project because I found a deficit in extant
research when it came to the direct perspectives of children who are overdisciplined. Very few
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studies, compared with the whole, seek out the opinions and stories of the children whose lives
their research centers (Docket & Perry, 2005; Graham et al., 2013; Lutrell, 2010). Ruth Nicole
Brown (2013) is notable in providing work from, for, and by Black girls, often in their own words
and through the artwork they produce. Initially, the idea was for the girls’ self-portraits to be
accompanied by narratives or stories that they had chosen for their audience to read, thus
taking control of the narrative before one could be created for them in the viewer’s mind.
Though the self-portraits did not come to fruition, the narratives continued to be gathered as
the girls engaged in conversation with me and with each other.
Community Response/Participants’ Response
Again, a primary aim of YPAR projects is social change. When the girls met during the
one session in which they were able to come together as a group, they decided that school
board members and/or upper-level district administrators would be their chosen audience.
They wanted these stakeholders to listen to their stories and see them for who they were, not a
story or version of themselves which had been negatively impacted by the overdiscipline they
had received.
Data Analysis
Coding of Stories
Round 1
Table 4.2 shows how the data collected were analyzed. All data were analyzed initially
using the NVivo qualitative analysis software. An initial codebook was developed using open
coding by viewing the participant videos and looking for broad themes, beginning with an
initial set of a priori codes related to identity (i.e., discursive, institutional), discipline (i.e.,
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suspension, expulsion, detention), school (i.e., relationship: teacher), and home (i.e., food
insecurity). It was expected that these codes might show up due the demographics of the girls
and the topic of the project. New codes were added quickly as analysis continued, with some
codes specific to each girl. For instance, several childrearing or mother-related codes were
added for Audri which could not be used for Samara or Indigo. Additionally, “values” codes
were added to account for the girls’ sharing of moral and ethical standards that were important
to them, such as bravery, empathy, or independence.
Round 2
A second round of axial coding was conducted, during which it became clear that the
data were strongly stratifying into systems of support and risk. After considering analytical
frameworks, including identity theory and field theory, I determined that ecological systems
theory was the most appropriate framing for this data and created parent nodes titled
“individual,” “microsystem,” “mesosystem,” and so forth. I consulted with my advisor, Dr.
Stephanie Sanders-Smith, who recommended that I work with Dr. Michaelene Ostrosky due to
her familiarity with Bronfenbrenner’s work. Dr. Ostrosky joined my committee and was helpful
in helping me think through ecological systems as it pertained to the data provided by Audri,
Samara, and Indigo.
It became clear that a chapter for each girl would be appropriate for the findings, as the
girls each told stories that were specific enough to them to warrant their own platform. The
code “QUOTE” was added to call out specific stories or quotes that felt notable: if one of the
girls said something with passion or a strong emotion, repeated a point, took time to answer
and make the importance of her words clear, explicitly called out a point as important, or if I
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was struck by something one of them said, I used this code. Most of the stories that wound up
in this paper were coded “QUOTE.”
Round 3
Following the coding in NVivo, I executed what I called a “narrative dump,” in which I
extracted the transcripts from all the “QUOTE” codes I had tagged for each girl and dumped
them into Word documents titled “Audri,” “Samara,” and “Indigo.” These documents
eventually became the findings chapters. This led to a third round of selective coding, in which
the pulled stories were coded based on the ecological systems they represented. During this
round of coding, the term “mindset” began to be used to describe how each girl viewed not
only herself but the world around her. I compiled a list of labels that each girl used in her
narrative, as well as emotions expressed, and I began to grapple with the idea of what
concepts belonged in the mesosystem.
Overdiscipline and the Mesosystem.
I spent considerable time grappling with the
mesosystem within the girls’ ecologies. Generally, the mesosystem is depicted as a concentric
circle between the micro- and exosystems, with arrows within it representing the
interrelationships within settings and other elements in the microsystem (Stern et al., 2021). In
my examination of PVEST diagrams, I did not find examples that placed details – such as
examples of these interworkings – in the mesosystem area. I chose to show this interplay by
placing examples from the girls’ stories, such as overdiscipline or family involvement in school,
within their individual mesosystems. In working through this, I struggled with where to place
the concept of overdiscipline, which all three girls experienced and needed to be
acknowledged. Initially, I placed overdiscipline within the girls’ exosystems, viewing it as a
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result of school discipline systems. However, as I continued to process and discuss with
colleagues, I struggled with the idea that it was not merely discipline
systems
or
policies
that
brought about overdiscipline, but the adults within schools who utilized these policies. Further,
societal values that these adults held ultimately drove the thinking behind both the creation of
these policies and the enforcement of them by teachers, administrators, and school police.
For a while, overdiscipline resided in the girls’ macrosystems due to these
considerations. However, upon further consideration, I determined that overdiscipline, as a
result of multiple interworkings between school settings, teachers, administrators, and
students, essentially is a mesosystem element. However, I chose to double-categorize
overdiscipline for the purposes of this study: I placed it in the girls’ chronosystems as well as
their mesosystems to recognize that overdiscipline was pervasive within their schooling
experiences and that Black children have been historically overdisciplined in the American
school system.
Following the coding of the narrative dump, I titled each story and organized them by
how they were illustrative of elements within the ecological systems.
Round 4: Member Checking
The goal of this project was for the girls to approve all analysis of their stories and
presentation of their work. This became impossible, as Audri and Samara dropped out well
before completion of the second phase of the study. As such, I have done some serious soul
searching when it comes to the sharing of this work. Ultimately, I concluded that Audri and
Samara wanted their stories to be heard, and they wanted change, not just for themselves but
for other Black girls who would come after them. Although I have not heard from them since
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last year, I take their stories seriously and hope to do them justice in sharing them. Still, my
findings and analysis were not processed alone. I undertook a rigorous checking process,
including meeting with the social workers at Okunye, meeting with my advisor to discuss my
findings and analysis, and sending drafts of all findings chapters to colleagues.
Table 4.2
Data Analysis Table
Stage of Coding
Data Analysis
1st Round: Open
• Transcribed data from recorded Zoom sessions
• Open coding using a priori and emergent codes
2nd Round: Axial
• Axial coding
• PVEST parent nodes created
• “QUOTE” code created
3rd Round: Selective
• Selective coding to PVEST categories
• Narrative dump
• “Mindset” term used
• Labels/emotions compiled
• Mesosystem categorization
4th Round: Member
Checking
• Chapters sent to colleagues (Black women) to check
for accuracy in interpretation of stories, to ensure
voices of girls “sounded out” accurately, “blind
spots” avoided
• Consultation with colleagues, advisor, and
committee members to verify PVEST analysis
• Consultation with social workers for context
Accuracy of Interpretation: Checking with Colleagues.
All of the colleagues whom I
asked to read my findings chapters were Black women. I did this in order to check their
interpretation of the girls’ stories against my own. This was important to ensure I had not
missed any nuance to the girls’ words or insinuated meaning erroneously. Additionally, I
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consulted with my wife, a Black woman who studies sociology at Arizona State University. The
frequency with which we conversed about this work at times overshadowed other topics of
conversation. To this point, I recognized my friends’ and colleagues’ roles as professors and
Black women whose duty was not to exhaust themselves with my work. I asked them if they
might be willing to help, and how much, and then I sent full chapters or portions of chapters,
depending on their responses. I sent chapters to multiple people so that if I did not hear back
from someone, I still had feedback.
Accuracy of Framework Analysis: Committee, Advisor, and Colleagues.
In addition to
checking to make sure I had interpreted the participants’ stories accurately, I also sent findings
chapters to committee members, my advisor, and a colleague familiar with Bronfenbrenner’s
work – Dr. Dorian Harrison – to check that they understood my analysis of the stories against
the PVEST framework. Additionally, I met with my advisor, Dr. Stephanie Sanders-Smith, every
other week and corresponded with her via email and even text to discuss framework concepts,
the girls’ stories, and analysis. Dr. Sanders-Smith’s collaborative feedback style was helpful for
me, as it allowed me to bounce ideas off her that I was grappling with.
As I received feedback from these colleagues, committee members, and Dr. Sanders-
Smith, I met or corresponded with them for clarification and then edited as necessary. For
example, on reading Indigo’s chapter, Dr. Harrison pushed me to think temporally about how I
was defining the girls’ mindsets and experiences as well as making sure I was clear about what
school(s) I was referring to in different scenarios, rather than simply writing about “school” as
an entity. This caused me, for instance, to consider the ways in which Okunye supported the
girls that the traditional schools had not, as well as ways that Okunye still fell short.
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Social Workers.
In addition to working with the social workers for recruitment purposes
and in facilitating Zoom meetings, I met with two of the social workers together to interview
them on two different occasions. The social workers provided essential background information
on Okunye and policy information. The interviews were scheduled in January after I had
already spend considerable time with the girls. It became obvious to me that some more
context was needed as the girls described the reactions to adults at their previous schools as
well as incidents with teachers at Okunye they described.
From the social workers, I learned that Okunye had “zero tolerance” policies in place (in
which certain behaviors or possessions such as weapons could get a student automatically
suspended or expelled), like most schools. However, Okunye’s administrators typically sought
to understand the motivations behind their students’ behavior before making decisions, and
sometimes this resulted in letting zero tolerance slide. The social workers gave the example of
the possession of mace: some students had been sent to Okunye for bringing mace to school.
However, Okunye recognized that many girls carried mace for safety reasons as they navigated
their way to school through dangerous neighborhoods. In response, Okunye developed the
policy that students could turn in their mace devices as they arrived in the morning and retrieve
them at the end of the day, so they could protect themselves on their way home. This
juxtaposition of policies – one which excommunicated girls, and the other which recognized
need, both surrounding the same “weapon” – was one which I would not have been aware of
had I not interviewed the social workers.
Lastly, the social workers disclosed that students’ disciplinary infractions at their
previous schools were reviewed by the head of school at Okunye before they were admitted.
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This behavior was measured against the needs of the other students and staff at Okunye. If a
student who needed to be moved to an alternative school had been in fights with several other
students who were already at Okunye, or if the student exhibited particularly violent behavior,
that history could result in them being turned away. This type of decision could determine
whether a child wound up with a school to attend at all. The social workers assured me that the
head of school was careful not to provide a biased version of a student’s data to staff.
However, as will be seen in Samara’s chapter, how teachers at Okunye interpreted these data
appeared to vary.
Effectiveness of Call-to-Action
Results of data analyses allowed me to determine the effectiveness of the call-to-action
set by the participants, and implications for future study. I presented the findings from this
study to the school district code of conduct committee, who responded with enthusiastic
commentary about the participants and their shared narrative. They pledged to meet and
discuss the questions and concerns that Indigo had. However, while they scheduled a second
meeting with me to discuss planned changes for the new school year, the board members
suddenly had an emergency just before I arrived and at the time of this writing have not
contacted me to reschedule. It seems that the implication is that the work did not move far
enough in the direction to enact social change.
Conclusion
Black girls’ bodies, voices, and psyches have historically been fraught within White
spaces and institutions (Baumle, 2018; Crenshaw, 1989; Marston et al., 2012), which are by
definition all public spaces (Lipsitz, 1995). In designing the research questions for this study, it
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was my hope that the Black girls would feel empowered to share stories that were important to
them. The research intervention was designed to provide participants with the creative space,
agency, and room to develop critical consciousness so that they may explore how their
experiences with overdiscipline has shaped their mindset and perspectives on the systems of
risk and support in their lives. In turn, Samara, Indigo, and Audri wanted district leaders to act
for change on their behalf. This study examines how self-exploration and structural critique
might influence Black girls’ sense of self, and the response of stakeholders to these critiques.
There is potential for transformative change when key decision-makers interact with the stories
shared by Black girls, but it must be acknowledged that these decision makers can make little
impact upon the lives of Black girls if they wait for these students to approach them with
solutions that should have been proactively sought – before they are pushed out of the system
altogether.
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CHAPTER 5: AUDRI
Figure 5.1
Audri, artistic rendition by J. Laixely
“The big question is: When did the discipline happen? Like, when was that the
start? Why do people want to do that to their kids, if they love their kids so
much? If they tell them, like, like, “I love you” and all of that, then why do that to
your kids? Because I don't feel like that's love, then, if you're doing that.
That's
not love. And if it is love, then I don't want it.
I think it comes from my past life, past trauma, and everything, because my mom
used to tell us like all the time about, like, how like, her dad would treat her, like,
this way. But like,
you're supposed to break that cycle
. Why would you keep that
cycle? I got my Christmas taken away. I went plenty of nights without eating.
And like and like like like like like like she’ll, literally make jokes about like, “One
night won't hurt you. Just look at you.” I'm thinking like, I wonder why? Because
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when I do get to eat, like, I eat, obviously, because I'm hungry. So, I know I'm
going to break that for my child. Like, she will never have to go through that.”
Audri, November 27, 2020
The first thing I noticed about Audri was her smile. The next was her laugh. It was loud,
explosive, and infectious, and it splashed across her face as quickly as her grin. At a time when
Zoom fatigue for everyone was high, Audri was a breath of fresh air. I enjoyed every moment
with her on the screen and felt inspired afterward by what we discussed. We ended each
session looking forward to the next. Audri’s one-year-old girl, Amaya, was a bouncy and
talkative child – though she had not yet developed the ability to make her toddler language
intelligible to the rest of us. Amaya was present during several of our online sessions, and one
time I had the thrilling pleasure to be “hung up on” by her as she crawled to the bed, her
large, curious eyes huge on the screen as she pushed her mother’s laptop closed. Seconds
later, Audri, who had left for a moment to get Amaya some water, reopened the computer,
shaking her head and saying, “Kids.”
During these sessions, Audri and I discussed life, love, childrearing, discipline – both at
home and at school – family, politics, and many other things. Audri spoke passionately and in
rambling sentences peppered with the word “like.” She frequently used this word, seemingly
as a placeholder while she gathered her thoughts, repeating it over and over again before
continuing with her line of discussion.
1
1
To stay true to her voice, I have chosen to leave in this stylistic repetition in her narrative,
rather than editing it for brevity.
85
Over the course of three months, I developed a relationship with Audri. Around
Christmastime I visited her school to deliver a gift card for her participation in Phase I of the
project, and her social worker allowed for us to visit briefly in his office, sitting six feet apart
due to COVID-19 restrictions. I brought a xylophone for Amaya during this visit, and Audri
happily shared with me later that her daughter loved the instrument.
Audri disappeared from the project and my life as quickly as she entered. Quite
suddenly in February of 2021, and soon after moving into an apartment of her own with
Amaya, Audri stopped attending school and ceased responding to my calls or texts. The social
workers at Okunye were unable to reach her. I learned later from her guardian, who worked at
the school, that Audri was experiencing hardships and was unresponsive to her guardian as
well. I have continued to reach out to Audri every few weeks, with no response.
Before her abrupt exit from school and from the project, Audri was an enthusiastic
participant and showed great willingness to discuss a variety of topics. I began our first session
with an exploration of identity and allowed our conversations to branch out naturally. Often, I
would circle back to ask Audri about words she used when describing herself or stories she
told. Analysis of these conversations revealed that Audri cared deeply about her role as a
mother. She was strongly determined to do well for herself and her child and to provide a
more nurturing environment than the one in which she had been raised. Audri was very aware
of how others viewed her, specifically peers, her mother
2
, and her teachers, and she talked at
length about the importance of the need for understanding and empathy when relating to
2
References to “mother,” “father,” and siblings are Audri’s adoptive family. Biological parents and
guardians will be referred to as “biological.”
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others. Audri’s views of herself had been adversely affected by many of her personal
experiences.
Audri’s Mindset
From the stories, reflections, and opinions that she shared, I gleaned many qualities
about Audri, including values and the way she viewed the world that she spoke about directly,
and outlooks that were implied through context. These elements encompassed a variety of
nuanced personal viewpoints and values, a sense of identity that revolved around motherhood,
and a rejection of societal expectations. Trust was essential in Audri’s life. She guarded her
heart and her child closely, and she expressed a desire to be honest and forgiving with her
child. Analysis of Audri’s stories included coding for repeated themes in participants’
viewpoints, values, emotions, and idealistic qualities. Four “pillars” stood out in Audri’s
narrative: independence, trust, motherhood, and empathy. Through deep discussion with
Audri, it became clear that these concepts hinged upon each other: her experiences led her to
value empathy, not just for herself but for others, and to take great care in whom she placed
her trust. Audri had been placed in many situations where she had been dependent on others
who had let her down. This led her to desperately seek her own independence for her own and
her daughter’s wellbeing.
Independence: Reality Smacks You in the Face
Audri’s experiences as a teenager forced her to take on adult responsibilities quite
rapidly. Her outlook on reality and her ability to trust the adults in her life were affected by
these experiences. Early in the project, as we were perusing photos and videos of her younger
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self, I commented on her description of twelve-year-old Audri, saying it seemed like young
Audri “had a good head on her shoulders.”
Audri: Oh yeah, it was something, alright. It was screwed on right. Over the years, it's
started to unscrew. Like, when you a kid, you don't see reality. You just see good times.
Playin, loving. That's all you see. And as soon as you grow up,
reality smacks you in the
face
.
A lot changed for Audri in the five short years between when the carefree photos and
videos were taken and her present life. Audri was expelled from school in her freshman year,
her father (present in the video) had died in 2019, and her mother had kicked her out and left
the state while Audri was caring for her newborn. She commented many times on how her trust
had been broken to the point where she had changed how she viewed and related to others.
She struggled to trust even those who clearly meant her no harm, such as her guardian, who
had given her a home when she needed it most.
However, in every one of our sessions, Audri spoke of wanting to “flip the script” and
give more to her daughter than she had had as a child. She excitedly told me of her progress in
her GED program and plans to get her driver’s license and a place of her own. Though she
described reality as “a smack in the face,” it was not hopeless. On the contrary, at the time of
our study, Audri spoke often of life goals and plans to live a successful, independent life.
Trust: I Used to Have a Very Good Heart
I generally experienced Audri as a laughing, good natured teenager. She joyfully
described times with her father and siblings, caring for her daughter, and her plans for the
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future. Contrastingly, Audri conceptualized herself as “evil” or “bad” and described struggles
to return to past iterations of herself.
Audri: I used to have, like, such a kind heart. Like, you think, like, I used to always be
like this evil or this way? Like no, I used to have a very good heart. Then that changed
one day because
I see that kindness don't get you nowhere
. Now if I get downright
ugly, now it's a problem…But
didn’t nobody see me when I was out here giving
everybody the benefit of doubt
, when I was out here being kind to everybody. Now,
since I'm getting downright ugly, now it's a problem.
Jadyn: So, would you say you don't have a kind heart now?
Audri: Um, it's still black, we're working on turning it back to red (laughs nervously). It's
black in there. Slowly but surely.
Audri’s found that when she gave people the “benefit of the doubt” or showed others
kindness, she did not receive the same grace in return. This prompted her to look inward and
determine for herself the amount of trust she was willing to place in others. She shared that she
did not have many friends. However, through her struggles with body image and other issues
brought on by treatment from people she trusted, Audri had emerged with a fierce
determination to view herself in a more positive light and to pass this outlook on to Amaya.
Though she still described herself as evil, she also said she was a “work in progress” and was
quite forgiving of herself.
Motherhood
Audri’s mind and heart centered around her daughter, Amaya. She spoke of her child
lovingly and with pride. In her most difficult trials, when she was homeless during a pandemic
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in the middle of a Midwest winter at age sixteen, she did everything she could, including couch
surfing and stealing baby formula, to care for Amaya. She was fascinated by my role as an
educator, and we spoke frequently about childcare and the importance of empathy when
working with children. As mentioned earlier, Amaya was present for many of our sessions, and
it was clear to me that this child was happy, enthusiastic, bright, and attached to her mother.
Empathy: The Treatment of Children
Audri had a well-developed sense of empathy and employed it in her stance on many
issues. This value was evident through Audri’s storytelling about loved ones who had broken
her trust or other personal experiences. One example of this was Audri’s views on childrearing
and childcare, which she brought up during several of our sessions. Audri held a job at a local
daycare and expressed frustration with how one child in particular, Greg, was treated.
Audri: (The lead teacher) won't even let him go to the park anymore because he does
not listen. It's a park. What do you expect? So, what they do? They just be like “Greg
you need to stop doing this. Greg! Greg!” …And like, literally just be so snippy towards
him. Like, what? That's why I said, like I gotta go. Before I hurt somebody.
Audri told stories from both home and school in which she had privileges taken away
due to adult frustration with her inability, or unwillingness, to comply. Audri felt as though
adults had not made efforts to understand her motivations in those situations. Similarly, her
experiences working in an educational setting in which children were refused access to park
trips and yelled at felt unfair to Audri, whose advocacy in favor of the children was not
regarded by senior staff members.
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Figure 5.2
Audri’s Mindset
Audri’s commentary on childrearing, school, politics, family, and other topics showed
that she valued the importance of context-seeking, empathy, and mental health awareness.
She felt that these were lacking in her own experiences, and as a result, she valued personal
agency and independence for both herself and her daughter. She expressed dreams and goals
for herself that were largely emotion-based and not concrete. In other words, Audri knew what
she did not want – abuse, insecurity, rejection – and what she did want, loosely – stability and
wellbeing, empathy, love; however, she had not set concrete short- or long-term goals for
herself.
Audri’s Ecological Systems
The diagram in Figure 5.3 represents Audri’s individual mindset and ecological systems
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979) as derived from the narratives that unfolded during our conversations.
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Audri’s personal narrative crosses all systems. Though she did not know the terms microsystem,
mesosystem, exosystem, macrosystem, chronosystem, and mindset, her dialogue and stories
showed that she was aware of how various systems, settings, and people interacted within her
life.
Figure 5.3
Audri’s Ecological Systems
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Audri’s Microsystem
Figure 5.4
Audri’s Microsystem
The elements of the microsystem are the activities, roles, and relationships that occur in
given settings for an individual (Bronfenbrenner, 1979). The people in Audri’s microsystem
(Figure 5.4) included her daughter, other family members and guardians, school staff, peers,
police, and the father of her child. This section focuses on the elements of Audri’s microsystem
which had significant impacts on her teenage development, and which she spoke of the most
during this project: her mother, daughter, peers, teachers, and the police.
Audri’s adoptive family included her father, whom she was very close to and who she
described as the only person who truly seemed to care about her. He died of cancer in late
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2020 when Amaya was one month old. Three months later, when Audri was seventeen, her
mother kicked her out of the house and moved out of the state. Audri’s adoptive mother has
therefore transitioned ecologically from her microsystem to her exosystem, as the two had no
further contact after this separation, altering their relationship (Bronfenbrenner, 1979).
Though she is now a part of her exosystem, Audri’s mother was an important and
influential part of her microsystem for the first sixteen years of her life. Audri shaped many of
the ideas about who she wanted to be around not being like her mother. She expressed the
desire to provide for Amaya emotionally, mentally, and physically in ways that her own mother
did not.
Relationship with Mother
Resentment: “Don’t Touch My Door.”
Audri shared multiple stories which centered the
pain and anger she felt around her mother. It was a fraught relationship which became
unbearable for both parties once Amaya was born and Audri’s father passed away shortly
afterward. In the following account, Amaya’s father, Michael, had ordered food delivered to
her while she was breastfeeding, because her mother refused to feed her. When the food
arrived, however, her mother blocked the way.
Audri: Like I had nothing in my room, and I'm still trying to breastfeed and all of that…I
was about to go (get the food). She was just like, “Don’t touch my door” …She
grabbed the food, and like, she just threw it at me… (starts to cry) Like (sniffles) like you
don't have to treat somebody like that.
Audri’s mother’s refused to support her while she was pregnant and in the months
following Amaya’s birth. This catalyzed Audri’s drive to provide for her own child, and she told
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many stories surrounding the type of support she vowed to offer to Amaya in the future. This
support ranged from love to financial support, to providing a roof over Amaya’s head, and
even plans for if Amaya felt the need to “get away”: she would send her to a family member, if
necessary, but never put her out on the street.
Forgiveness and Disappointment.
Much of Audri’s pain and struggles with trust
centered around her mother. In one conversation, Audri spoke of an attempt to connect with
her mother, and how her trust was once again broken. When speaking about her mother,
Audri’s repetitive speech was often more pronounced. In the example below, she rambled as
she struggled to put many thoughts together at once.
Audri: So, I was at the kid’s church and they're like, like, they was talking about
forgiveness. And this was still like right around the time where like, where like, where
like, well my mom was still, we’d get into it. Like I'm fat. That's the first thing. Like, like,
she said, I'm big. It made me so uncomfortable in my body, like it was just
unbelievable…
But I remember, when we got back in the car, and like…we used to talk about
what like, like, what we learned. And I remember I started off, and then…I said like, how
like I forgive her.
And she just laughed at me.
Audri paused in that moment and then said, “Wow. You just opened something up in
me. I just realized why I don’t forgive people.” A recurring theme for Audri (for all three girls, as
will be revealed in later chapters) was a need for understanding, specifically when interacting
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with adults. In the above revelation, Audri discovered that she had difficulty forgiving people
because when she did so with her mother, this forgiveness was rejected.
Audri learned from home that some adults could be harmful, and so she learned to
protect herself from that harm by not opening herself up to potential breaches in trust. When
she became a mother herself, she was determined to change this pattern.
Relationship with Amaya
Flipping the Script.
The most important person in Audri’s microsystem was her
daughter, Amaya. One of the most frequent themes in Audri’s dialogue was her desire not to
repeat the abusive treatment that she received from her own mother. Our conversations were
interrupted many times so that Audri could attend to her daughter’s needs. During one
session, Amaya briefly choked on her water, and Audri displayed enormous pride when Amaya
began to pat herself on the chest, mimicking the approach her mother would use when patting
her back to soothe her. For Audri, motherhood was her world.
Audri: Just a lot of things I want to do different from my household…Like, people say
how like they bring things from like their different household, like to raise up their kids?
Not mine. I'm starting completely from scratch.
“Start from scratch” and “flip the script” were refrains during my conversations with
Audri. I got a sense of great fear from this young mother that there were many factors at play in
her world that might serve to disrupt Amaya’s innocence, and she wanted desperately to
prevent these dangers from reaching her daughter. At the same time, she had also considered
that there were risks she could not prevent.
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Audri: …That's what I have to tell myself: “It is okay. Amaya is gonna fall. Amaya is
gonna cut her hand. Amaya is going to get boo boos. It is okay.”
Relationship with School Staff and Police
Overdiscipline: No Christmas, No Six Flags.
Clearly, Audri felt an intense need to be
understood. From her stories, this need often manifested in the form of wanting teachers and
parents to consider her circumstances before labeling or condemning her. As an important part
of all children’s microsystem (Bronfenbrenner, 1979), teachers spend hours with young people
and, ideally, provide a secure base and a safe haven in which they can thrive (Stern et al.,
2021). However, if trusting relationships with teachers are not built, or if teachers break the
bonds of trust, this can have a devastating effect. In the following narrative, Audri described an
incident in middle school that combined a lack of context-seeking or understanding from both
her classroom teacher and her mother. It altered her ability to relate to her teachers and to
school and is something that she has carried with her into her young adulthood.
Audri: I remember when I was in seventh grade, and it was literally so close to
Christmas…And it was like a hard teacher…I remember I was in a different classroom
trying to get like my work all caught up because like, like they had an incentive at the
end of the year like if you had no DRs no ORs (discipline referrals or office referrals)…
then like they will take us to Six Flags.
(The teacher) claimed how like he did not know where I was at, when the student
teacher saw me in the classroom. I told him before I even went…He said, “Okay.” And
then, and then, then that's when like he still wrote me up and call home. So then, so
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then, like, I literally got my Christmas taken away. And I didn't get to go to the Six Flags
trip…
In middle school, most frequently in eighth grade, Audri began to be removed from
class and suspended. This seemed to snowball, and she was expelled in her freshman year.
Though it is not possible to tell if the incident above was the single catalyst for Audri’s
increasing discipline issues, for Audri it was significant. She shared that this was the incident
that led her to become uninterested in school.
Overdiscipline: Kicked Out of Class for Non-Participation.
Audri shared that she was
“kicked out of class” many times. Curious about exactly what was causing Audri to be removed
from class so often, I probed further. Audri described herself as the class clown and being sent
from the classroom for making people laugh. She also stated that she was sent from class for
“just sitting there” or not listening, rather than doing her work. She explained that the strategy
of removing her from the classroom for non-participation began, at least for her, in the seventh
grade. This is consistent with research showing that Black children are frequently removed from
school spaces for non-violent offenses (M.W. Morris, 2012).
Arrested for Going to School.
The police played an integral role in Audri’s relationship
with school. They are placed in her microsystems because they were present at her middle
school and high school, regularly interacted with her, and altered the course of her life through
their role in overdiscipline practices. Audri shared the story of when she was arrested for
“trespassing” at her own high school, during school hours. Prior to this incident, Audri had
already skipped school for several days and then had an altercation with her mother. She left
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the house and went to a friend’s home to get away, but her mother reported her to police as a
runaway.
When Audri returned to school the next day, she unfortunately chose not to follow
proper school procedure, arriving at lunch time and asking a friend to let her in. She wound up
in an altercation with the hall monitor and police.
Audri: I was trying to explain to them, I’m about to go upstairs to go call (my mom) and
figure all this stuff out. Cause like I'm confused. Like why did she call me like, a runaway
and all of that? Why is all of this basically happening?
Audri had attempted to go to school for the first time in days, but she was arrested and
later expelled, due to her altercation with police that day. This led to her placement at Okunye,
and more issues with her mother, who was embarrassed and angry that Audri was attending an
alternative school for “bad kids.” This will be discussed in the macrosystem section of this
chapter, which addresses societal norms and values. Audri expressed confusion and bitterness
when recalling this memory: she admitted that she had been “a skipper,” smoked marijuana
regularly, and had trouble caring about her classes. Yet, she repeatedly returned to school and
showed that she valued her education and personal success in doing so. Audri felt that no one
afforded her the grace or time to explain the reasons for her absence from home and school.
Relationship with Guardian
The support of Audri’s guardian was vital to her daily successes. This woman, a teacher
at Okunye, maintained contact with Audri throughout the summer that Audri was homeless,
couch-surfing, and struggling to provide for herself and Amaya. The two shared a bond, as
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their children were just a week apart in age, and so at the end of summer, she offered for Audri
and Amaya to move in.
Audri referred to her guardian as her new mom. She was prompted to get up for
school, return my calls, and meet other obligations by her guardian quite frequently. I noted
that this caregiver not only picked Audri up from the bus stop after work but also was working
to help her get her driver’s license and secure an apartment. When Audri suddenly
disappeared, I spoke with her guardian, who informed me that Audri was struggling to
navigate the many new responsibilities she had so longed for. It seemed to both of us that,
although she had received much support for many months, Audri had been less prepared for
independent life than they had hoped, and school was deprioritized.
The people, relationships, and situations within Audri’s microsystem were important
factors in her development. Values which grew out of Audri’s experiences within her
microsystem became important themes which in turn resonated throughout her overall
ecosystem, as we will see in the next sections.
Audri’s Mesosystem
The mesosystem was where interactions occurred between settings, people, and other
elements within the microsystem (Bronfenbrenner, 1979). The concept of privacy, which Audri’s
mother violated when interacting with her daughter and other adults, belongs in the
mesosystem, along with agency, transportation issues, and family involvement at school. Of
perhaps greatest impact for Audri within her mesosystem was her encounters with
overdiscipline
.
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Figure 5.5
Audri’s Mesosystem
Overdiscipline
Audri had multiple experiences with overdiscipline, which occurred because of
interactions between herself, her peers, teachers, administrators, and/or police as well as the
thoughts the adults held regarding children and discipline. To restate, overdiscipline is defined
for the purposes of this study as discipline which is enacted upon an individual as a result of an
imbalance of power, intersections of discrimination, a refusal to listen to or recognize the
agency of a child, or the negation of the context of a given situation. Overdiscipline, being an
interactive mechanism between settings in a child’s microsystem, is therefore a concept which
belongs in the mesosystem.
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Status Offenses.
In my analysis, I have placed status offenses in Audri’s mesosystem.
This is due to the interactions between police, parents, and school staff, as well as codes of
conduct which allow children in schools to be punished differently from adults. Girls of color
are frequently arrested for status offenses (Baumle, 2018). A status offense unfairly punishes
children for things they often see adults do with no repercussions. For example, in my
interviews with them, Audri’s social workers pointed out that when she chose to go to her
friend’s house after fighting with her mother, she was practicing a healthy approach to dealing
an altercation. Rather than punching a wall, drinking, or escalating the argument, she stepped
away. Had Audri been an adult, there would have been no legal consequence whatsoever for
her decision to go to her peer’s house. However, because she was underage, her mother
reported her as a runaway, and the police became involved.
In-School Suspension: The Leftover Kids.
From a discipline standpoint, Audri’s
experience during elementary school was largely uneventful. She was suspended for the first
time in middle school, and the suspensions increased in frequency by the eighth grade. By her
freshman year, Audri was cutting school and being sent out of class for non-participation. Audri
was suspended out of school in both middle and high school; she also received in-school
suspensions (ISS). Audri described ISS as a room full of “leftover kids” who were left to the
whims of teachers who may or may not care about their academic success.
Jadyn: So, you're in there all day, what are you doing in there?
Audri: Nothing…And it's really wishy-washy because that's how it is now in high school.
Sometimes they might bring your work, sometimes they might not.
I look at it as like
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the leftover kids. Like, like “those kids” are clearly in there for something
. So, “they get
their work, they get they work. If they don't, oh well. Gotta move on.”
From Audri’s viewpoint, the disciplinary system within her schools was set up to
privilege the children who followed set norms and values and to shuffle aside the children who
did not conform to these norms or follow the rules. Audri was proud of her uniqueness and
resisted conformity for conformity’s sake, resulting in dissonance between herself and the aims
of the disciplinary code of conduct. The children who found themselves in the ISS room were
not just removed from the classroom but often cut off from learning, thus increasing the
likelihood that they would fall behind in their classes and wind up back in ISS, since students
who did not participate in class were frequently sent there. This interaction between teachers
and their students, along with administrators and the set disciplinary system, illustrates how
overdiscipline acts within the mesosystem to harm children. This harm is consistent with
literature on the discipline of Black children (Baumle, 2018; M.W. Morris, 2012; Wun, 2016a).
Audri’s Exosystem
Audri’s exosystem consisted of elements outside her immediate setting that affected
her but that she may not have interacted with directly (Bronfenbrenner, 1979). The bus system,
the discipline policies at her job and at school, the Walgreens whose receipt her parents found
which led them to discover her pregnancy, and even the school curriculum were all part of
Audri’s exosystem. Though they were outside her immediate sphere of influence, Audri was
deeply affected by these elements.
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Figure 5.6
Audri’s Exosystem
Within her exosystem I placed Audri’s biological parents and her adoptive mother:
though they at one point resided in her microsystem, they removed themselves outside of that
space. Audri was adopted at the age of six weeks, and from a comment she made during a
session, it appears that she visited her biological parents until she was about twelve. However,
Audri reported that her biological parents stopped contact after she became pregnant with
Amaya. According to Bronfenbrenner (1979), this represents an ecological transition, in this
case from her microsystem to her exosystem. Another parental ecological transition occurred
when Audri’s adopted mother kicked her out and then moved out of the state, cutting off both
contact and support.
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The systems and policies in place at the various schools Audri attended, along with
their codes of conduct, were placed in the exosystem as well. For example, Audri interacted
with hall monitors, administrators, and school police within her immediate settings – her
microsystem – on a regular basis who policed her actions and administered punishment for acts
that ranged from fighting to not paying attention in class to attempting to enter the school
building the wrong way. But the code of conduct and other policies gave them the legal right
to do so, and these policies were created outside of Audri’s immediate setting, at the district or
state level, in her exosystem.
Audri was often removed from the classroom due to boredom with the curriculum as
well as discipline issues. She also described in detail how her bus riding schedule affected her
daily life. It is these three elements of her exosystem that I focus on in this section.
School Curriculum
Some Days I Wasn’t Feeling It.
In the following conversation, I was curious to know why
Audri had not been doing her work, which she cited as the reason for being removed from
class many times. Unsurprisingly, she responded like a typical teenager: in a nutshell, Audri was
bored.
Audri: Some days I wasn't feeling it. Just didn't care about it. And that’s like everybody.
That's understandable to have bad days.
Jadyn: Was it interesting work?
Audri: (shakes head “no” adamantly, smiling) No, it wasn’t interesting, and that's like
what I really don't like about work…With kids, you get to explore that like that little
mind and stuff. But then once high school starts…you need to read this thousand-page
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book and give me a whole four- or five-page essay about it. Like, no…And it's crazy
because (now) I don't read unless I have to.
She shared that at one time, she loved to read and was praised for her reading skills.
She also said she enjoyed writing to the extent that she would come to school only for writing
class and then skip her other classes. Sadly, Audri was frequently sent out of class and/or
suspended for not working, the result of which was to distance her further from school, her
teachers, and her educational goals.
School Discipline Policy
“Running Away” vs. “Taking a Break”: Delinquency vs. Choice.
Audri’s expulsion came
after she attempted to return to M.W. High School after missing several days and tried to
access the building through a side door in an effort to avoid questions from administrators. Her
mother had reported her as a runaway when she left the house after an altercation.
Audri: I basically just left the house…And then like, also wasn't going to school…At
M.W. High, like, they call and just be like, your child such-and-such missed first, second,
third, fourth, and like they would list all the periods. So, like (my mom) was getting that
call like every day.
The school attendance system was typical of that in many schools across the country,
set up to report when students missed classes or were absent from school altogether. As such,
it is not necessarily oppressive or harmful. Parents and guardians should know when their
children are missing from school or any other institution entrusted with their care. Lacking
broader context for why Audri was skipping school so much, this part of Audri’s exosystem
caused further strain between her and her mother.
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The student code of conduct for the local school district (District, 2021) was developed
outside of the school itself, but the teachers within the school – in Audri’s microsystem – were
obliged to follow it. In fact, the student code of conduct contained sections listing staff rights
and responsibilities with regard to their students. Therefore, when Audri refused to participate
in class, the code of conduct was used as a device to support her removal from the classroom.
Transportation Issues
Audri’s determination to pursue her GED, work, and care for Amaya could be seen in
the way she navigated the other institutions and structures within her exosystem that caused
tension in her life. One day, she detailed to me exactly how long it took her to take multiple
buses to get from work to the bus terminal and then to the Walmart one town over from where
she lived, where her guardian would pick her up and bring her home. This extended
transportation time affected Audri’s ability to study, spend quality time with her daughter, get
a decent amount of sleep, and even to care about her job and schoolwork. Though she had no
control over the bus system, it nevertheless was a crucial part of her ecology. Nevertheless, she
completed these trips daily in pursuit of her goals.
Audri’s Macrosystem
The macrosystem consists of ideologies within culture, subculture, and society that
affect an individual (Bronfenbrenner, 1979). For Audri, labels and societal expectations were
most prominent within her macrosystem. She described these when she told of being labeled
as “fat,” “runaway,” or “bad,” but she also spoke of the frustration and discrimination that
came with the labels she knew she was saddled with as a member of a group: Black Girls.
Audri’s frustrations with labeling and treatment were consistent with the kind of identity threat
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and stereotype threat that many Black girls experience (Townsend et al., 2010; van Laar et al.,
2010). Audri named herself a class clown, evil, a rebel, and she discussed how she felt society
viewed Black girls (“ho,” “prostitute”). At the same time, when asked “Who are you?” she
responded with labels such as “mother,” “friend,” and “listener.” All of these labels are
examples of cultural and societal discourse and belong in Audri’s macrosystem as
representative of ideologies that she felt were used to define her, either inclusively or
exclusively.
Figure 5.7
Audri’s Macrosystem
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Audri frequently described feeling misunderstood and misrepresented. She felt
discouraged that her mother and others viewed the students at Okunye as “bad kids,” when
her personal experience showed otherwise. Audri’s wish for understanding and empathy
focused on many issues within her macrosystem.
Societal Labels
“You’re Fat.”
Among Audri’s stories were several involving body image. She was often
told by her mother, her peers, and even the father of her child that she was overweight, and
this affected her self-esteem.
Audri:
Like, they can’t say I’m ugly. I’m not ugly. All they can say is just like, “You're fat.
You're fat.” And I’m not really fat. It's just I got a fat…breast area, okay? (Both
laughing.) Literally I had a kid like a year ago…Like, did you just expect me to shrink
back down to a pencil that fast?...Like, hi, um, this is how pregnancy works. That's when
like, I started feeling comfortable in my body.
Audri struggled with her body image and self-acceptance. However, after her
pregnancy she began to embrace a more positive image of herself and her body, and as she
shared above, she began to reject others’ negative comments.
“Bad Kids.”
After her expulsion from high school in her freshman year, Audri was sent
to Okunye, located in the center of town. The move to this program proved to be a positive
one for Audri. Her mother, however, disapproved of her daughter attending a school for “bad
kids.”
Audri: I was telling them how I didn’t want to go back…to M.W. High. Too crowded,
like, I don’t know how any of those students learn at that school, and that like, Okunye
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is quiet. Sometime it’s drama free, sometimes you might have a little drama. You'll
always have people talk. That's how I look at it. Like. There's always gonna be
somebody talking.
Classes was a lot smaller. More one-on-one time. Like it was just a lot better.
You can get more connections with like the teachers, outside of school…I highly
recommend it. My mom was just trying to make it seem like Okunye’s for bad people.
“Okunye is for bad kids, Okunye is for bad kids.” But in reality, it’s not. It’s really not.
We don't have no shootouts. Nobody in there tryin’ to stab nobody. Like, it just really
be calm. It just like, what the students did to get there. But why you gotta believe what
the black and white paper say?
Why can't you just look at me for me?
And I will admit.
Yes, I made mistakes, plenty of mistakes. But that doesn’t define me
.
This last statement, the assertion that her mistakes do not define her, was a crucial one
in Audri’s worldview. Many times, she reflected on her decisions and actions, the actions of
others, and her ability to learn, grow, and move beyond her past. She displayed frustration at
the fact that people in her life seemed to want to hold her to her past behaviors as though her
self-definition was static.
Societal Views of Labeled Groups
Empathy: Not Bad Kids, Just Bad Decisions.
Continuing with her theme of calling for
empathy from the adults in her life, Audri spoke during one of our conversations about the
frustration she felt being branded as a “bad kid” for not having been successful in a traditional
school.
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Audri: My mom…had to be like that type of Black woman that had to be up there, like
with white people. And that's what like, like, like, she basically forced upon us. Like, like,
when she found out how like I wanted to stay at Okunye, like she was just so mad. Like
she wanted me to go back to M.W. High,
even though I was progressing at Okunye
…
I don't think there's really any bad kids. We just made bad decisions.
But what
do you expect? We’re kids. We’re learning.
According to Audri, her mother equated success with Whiteness, or keeping up with
the white people that she knew. Her mother’s own grappling with stereotype threat (Townsend
et al., 2010) in her attempts to conform to the whiteness around her did not sit well with Audri,
and it is likely that Audri’s placement at Okunye disrupted her mother’s attempts at crafting a
family appearance that lived up to her own expectations of white, middle class family life.
Repeatedly, Audri’s happiness, wellbeing, and ability to thrive operated in direct conflict with
her mother’s personal agenda. As a Black woman herself, Audri’s mother did not seem to
consider the social dynamics at work, within her own interactions with Audri, at school, or in
broader society, as her daughter struggled against the grain.
The Truth About Black Girls.
During one discussion, I asked Audri how she felt society
viewed Black girls. Her response revealed a strong perception of identity threat (van Laar et al.,
2010) from those around her. Many negative images and labels of Black girlhood had been
imposed upon Audri in her interactions with others.
Audri: (Society) just views (Black girls) as troubled people, prostitutes, and all of that.
When I was working at (a local restaurant) in town…Like one of the white girls…this
girl's fifteen years old. Me and Amaya’s dad, we've been together for like, three years.
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Like, (the white girl) was just like, “I didn't know that Black couples stay together that
long” …I was just like, okay, like, that's how like, society views us.
In Audri’s experience, Black girls were viewed by society in an extremely negative light.
However, later in the conversation she noted that white people are not free from “drama” and
can be “ghetto,” but are not often saddled with these labels the way that Black people are.
This is an important aspect of the macrosystem that bears noting: the discourse in which
society engages around Black girls is troubling. As children, Black girls are aware that they are
thought of as prostitutes, troubled, dramatic, loud, and many other negative stereotypes.
When they point out that other children act similarly, these claims are often ignored (Wun,
2016a). For Audri, this type of stereotyping led to anger, frustration, and detachment from her
peers, teachers, and even her mother.
Children and Childrearing.
Audri: I really want to change for the better. I don't want to
be angry anymore. I don’t want my baby to be like that because my fear is her having a
temper. Because mine is hereditary, I got it from my biological dad because he has a
temper. So, I’m praying, like, “Please don't let it happen to my little one, please.”
Because like, like she's just like me. She has a very soft, beautiful face, so it will be easily
misinterpreted. Like it just be like, now Amaya is good or whatever. But in reality,
Amaya could be so evil.
And that's why I'm trying to pray that it's different for her.
…And say like if Amaya is like, tripping or whatever, I just won't be like, “Yeah,
yeah. Amaya’s tripping.” I'm just gonna like, talk to her…There's obviously a reason
why. So, I'm gonna get down to the bottom of it…
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I pray to God that Amaya never gets pregnant at 16, but even if she do, I'm not
gonna throw her out. I'm not gonna stop loving her. That’s why I'm gonna tell her my
life story. I'm not gonna tell her, like “Yay, it was so much fun!” Yes, it was fun, but it
was also so hard trying to finish school…Like, I'm gonna let her know the pros and cons
of it.
In the above conversation, Audri again used the word “evil,” this time in reference to
her daughter. Many times, she discussed her own temper and her fear that it would “rub off”
on Amaya. Audri wanted to provide the type of emotional stability that she felt she had not
received, and in doing so, prevent harm to her child. At the same time, she recognized that
there were factors outside of her control, such as others’ perception of Black girls, that could
affect Amaya. In this realization, Audri was preparing for a future that might require her to give
additional supports to her daughter.
Criminality: “Just See Me.”
One day during the natural flow of our conversation, the
topic turned to the illegality of marijuana and the problems this causes for various groups.
Ultimately, this line of discourse led Audri to a simple statement: “I am me.”
Audri: So, when they do get (marijuana) legal, what about all the people who've been in
jail for…Do you know how mad they will be when they be like, “Okay. You're free to
go.” Like, that's crazy. Like, like they probably sat in a cell for like three years, like four
years…
Jadyn: It's unjust. And I really like (what you brought up), this image of…Justice being
blind, with the blindfold.
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Audri: That's what she's supposed to be like, isn't that the woman? Right? With like, the
thingies in her hands, for equal. It’s supposed to be equal.
Jadyn: Last time, you talked about…when you do your portrait you could be looking (at
the camera) and you said something over your eyes of saying like, “see me.” What did
you say?
Audri: “I am me.” Yeah, why you gotta see my color? Just see me.
When you look into
my eyes, I want you to see me and not my color.
This idea, “just see me,” “I am me,” and also the opposite but similar statement, “that’s
not me” came up repeatedly in this study. Audri felt judged by the people in her life. The
values and norms by which Audri was judged, dictated by white society or the “dominant
culture,” unfairly held her to standards she did not fit (Basile et al., 2019; Camangian &
Cariaga, 2021; Wun, 2016a). From her hair to her body type to her voice and demeanor, Audri
was marked as deviant by not only the teachers and administrators in her school but her
mother and peers as well. She asked in this passage for people to “see me and not my color,”
something that our white-dominant society is not set up to do.
Audri’s Chronosystem
Overarching Audri as an individual, along with her microsystem, mesosystem,
exosystem, and macrosystem, was the chronosystem: changes and continuities over time
(Nadal et al., 2021). Significant life changes, such as the death of Audri’s father, the birth of
Amaya, their subsequent separation from Audri’s mother, homelessness, and poverty during a
worldwide pandemic were all part of Audri’s chronosystem as major changes in her life. The
move to her own apartment and dropping out of the GED program at Okunye were significant
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life events and were therefore also part of her chronosystem. Many of the above events have
already been discussed. Therefore, this section covers three important factors in Audri’s
Figure 5.8
Audri’s Chronosystem
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chronosystem: her lifelong struggles with food insecurity, the COVID-19 pandemic, and
political unrest in 2020.
Food Insecurity
Audri experienced food insecurity throughout her life. Her mother withheld food in
anger and as punishment, though their family was not poor or in need of food. As a result,
Audri developed a habit of eating when food was available instead of eating for nourishment.
This continuous negative relationship with food impacted her body image and self-esteem.
Through the birth of Amaya, Audri began to reconcile her body image within herself and
practice positive self-talk. Though we did not discuss this specifically, I argue that the
separation from her mother, coupled with time spent with adults who reinforced positive
thinking, helped Audri begin to reframe her own self-image.
The COVID-19 Pandemic
As stated in previous chapters, this study was conducted during the first year of the
COVID-19 pandemic. Raising a small child in pandemic conditions was yet another stressor for
Audri, but she was also concerned about other children’s home circumstances and the
repercussions of the quarantine for everyone.
Empathy for Teachers and Children.
Audri: I'm not a teacher but like, I just feel like the
teachers are probably, like, sad. It's a loss for everybody, not just the teachers, not just
the students…because if you think farther and deeper into that, what about, like, the
students or like, the little kids who gettin abused at home? And this was like, their go-
to…Everything's just shutting down. It's just like a lot of what-ifs.
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Amaya.
As a childcare worker, Audri made well-planned efforts to keep the virus from
her daughter. She considered the possibility of sending Amaya away to protect her, and she
was anxious about health and safety.
Audri: I’m stressing enough. And like, especially with me working with kids. Oh my god.
I get more terrified just by the day. I been washing my hands, using hand sanitizer, I
don't pull down my mask if we're gonna be all together. I don't even like the kids to
joke around about touching my hand. No, keep your fingers to yourself. I got a baby to
go home to…Like, if I be sick, then I could send Amaya away, and I’ll be fine. But I
don't want both of us to be sick cause I don't know how it's gonna affect her. She can
barely talk. She won't be able to be like, “my head hurts, my stomach hurt” or anything.
The long-term effects of the COVID-19 pandemic have yet to be unearthed, and we
may not know for many years how children who contracted the virus might reveal signs of later
damage. Audri demonstrated, through her careful attention to her own behaviors, that she
considered the long-term repercussions of the pandemic on herself and Amaya.
Political Unrest
Audri’s chronosystem included political unrest: the January 6, 2021, insurgence on the
Capitol building in Washington, D.C. occurred during one of our sessions together and
eclipsed our conversation. Audri worried about the state of the country and commented on
how Black Lives Matter protesters were treated differently.
There were certainly many happy memories in Audri’s life, some of which made a
lasting impact such as the birth of Amaya. However, many of Audri’s stories centered around
painful incidents. She felt as if her struggles influenced her in both negative and positive ways.
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She was catalyzed by the mistreatment she received and expressed desires for herself and
Amaya that countered these negative experiences. The death of Audri’s father motivated her
to value her own small family. The homelessness she endured solidified her need to provide a
home for her child at all costs and a set of childrearing standards that she viewed as contrary to
her mother’s.
Significance
Throughout our sessions together, Audri’s refrain was “I’m going to break the cycle.”
Though her stories, memories, and reflections held pain and frustration, Audri’s identity as a
mother shone through her smile and her pride-filled stories about Amaya. She railed against
the feeling that she was inherently not a good person. Labeled by her mother as “fat” and a
“bad kid,” Audri was desperate to uplift her own daughter.
Removal is a pattern in Audri’s life. She was shown by many adults that she was not
worthy to be in the same space as others. Placed for adoption as an infant, Audri felt rejected
by her biological parents. She was repetitively removed from the classroom until she was
ultimately removed from her school entirely. It is not surprising that Audri developed an
increasing sense of detachment from school and her teachers as these removals increased.
Naturally, she felt a sense of attachment to Okunye, the school that embraced her.
Audri was removed from the home into which she had been adopted at a time when
she most needed support – when her own daughter was very young. While she was given
support by a kind family several months later, she detached from everyone completely when
she found her own living space. It is possible that Audri was ready to let go of the people who
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might possibly fail her or let her go in an attempt to rely on only herself or to prove her ability
to live independently.
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CHAPTER 6: SAMARA
Figure 6.1
Samara, artistic rendition by J. Laixely
If you say I can't do something, okay I'm gonna show you, just because you
underestimated me. You try to say I can't do something, and I know for one,
it’s not wrong, for two, I can do it. Who are you? For three, I'm just gonna
show you like, I can do it. Why can't I do it? This is what I enjoy. I'm a kid. Let
me let me be happy. Let me do me. You know how many times I heard,
“Cause you a girl”? That don’t mean nothing!
Samara, December 9, 2020
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Nearly every time that Samara and I met over Zoom, she apologized about her hair. She
had a heavy-set build and dark, smooth skin. When deep in thought or adamantly speaking,
she would contort her face into a frown which signified that deep wisdom was about to be
dispelled, especially when coupled with a deep intake of breath and the word, “Okay…” I
looked forward to our conversations: Samara had spent time thinking about the systems and
structures that arranged themselves in her world. She was quick to laugh and had a beautiful
smile that carried to her eyes and lit up the screen. I was able to meet Samara in person just
once when I came to the school to drop something off for her. The boisterous personality that
she ordinarily displayed on Zoom dissolved into shy smiles as she buried her face in her hands.
When I asked her about that in our next session, she said she did not expect me to be so
excited to see her.
Samara contracted the COVID-19 virus two months into the project, and this took a toll
on her health. While she made it to the group session with Audri and Indigo and contributed
enthusiastically, this was the last I heard from her. She ceased all communication with Okunye
as well, and so her social workers had no information on her whereabouts. However, Indigo
worked with Samara for a time and was able to tell me she was showing up to work, which
eased my mind about her safety. Lacking a final conversation with Samara to determine all the
circumstances behind her decision to leave school, I am unable to know whether she was
“pushed out” of this school due to perhaps a shortage of support services following her illness
(M.W. Morris, 2016) or if it was an informed decision based on her own priorities. However, on
interviewing the social workers, I was able to establish that the school had very limited
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resources for working students. Job skills training that Okunye provided required students to
enroll in a course and therefore a time commitment for already overextended working children.
Before her sudden exit, Samara was excited about this project and took time to
consider the ideas and questions we discussed in each session. I began to know her as “The
Thinker” and would almost hover on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear her thoughts on
topics from discipline to family to identity and more. At one point early on in the study, Samara
paused, saying, “I don’t always think this deep. This is hard.” Given how much Samara
contributed each time we met, I found this hard to believe. However, I think the essence of
Samara’s statement is that adults did not often have conversations like this with her.
Samara’s Mindset
Samara was an intellectual thinker who valued empathy and understanding above most
other things. She reported that she had been branded as a fighter as a child by teachers and
administrators, and this label stuck with her throughout high school, including her transition to
Okunye. Fighting led to her expulsion from high school, but Samara was adamant in declaring
that she was not a fighter. We discussed the concept of “fighting” vs. “fighter” at length.
Samara parsed these two concepts out in her mind separately: “I will fight, but I’m not a
fighter.” She often repeated this conviction. For Samara, fighting was about survival and
something she felt compelled to do. It was not a choice.
The pillars of her mindset, as derived from the analysis of her stories and our
discussions during our Zoom sessions, included empathy, relation to others, fighting, and deep
thought.
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Empathy: Just the Littlest Things
The topic of empathy – and more specifically, considering the stories of those around
her – came up frequently in my discussions with Samara. She would often return to this theme,
even if we were discussing something that seemed to be unrelated. Samara related this to her
own life when we were discussing the concept of discipline at school.
Samara: You don't know like what that person was told (at home). You don't know what
happened to that person…So don't go off the actions of what you think. Don't think
about how you think about it. You got to think about how they think about it. What
happened to them? Like when I was younger, my mom told me if somebody hit you,
you hit them back. Because…you let them hit you that one time, they will keep hitting
you because they know you're not gonna hit back.
Samara understood that not all people or families have the same values, and that it can
be harmful to judge or discipline children based on one set of values. In her family, Samara was
taught that other children would take advantage of her if she did not defend herself. This will
be discussed in more depth later in this chapter. She was also taught that she should be helpful
and care about the people around her – even those she did not know personally.
Samara:
Just the littlest things of help can matter so much…and you might think it
won't.
But deep down. Like, and I really go based off how I’ve felt before…Like, one
day…I was at the bus stop. This man forgot his money, didn’t have a bus pass, and he
was on his way to court. He was like, “dang, I forgot my stuff, dang!” I’m like, “Imma
use my school ID, you hold my phone, you show them my pass, just give it back when
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you’re done.” And he was so happy. he was thanking me the whole way…I'm like, it's
okay, like that's what I would have wanted somebody to do for me.
When asked what she wanted people to know about herself, Samara said she was a
nice person who cares about people. She felt that she was misread as standoffish or mean.
Contrastingly, Samara often considered the needs of others above her own.
Relating to Others: “I’m Not a Friendly Person” vs. “I’m Really Nice!”
Samara valued empathy and helping others, but she frequently found herself in
situations where she felt forced to fight. She described herself as often being on the defense.
This led Samara to be quite guarded when dealing with both peers and adults. During one of
our sessions, she shared that she was in the habit of not talking to people she did not already
know. This contrasts with the group conversation below between all three participants, in which
Audri brought up how Samara was often misinterpreted by others. Because all three girls in the
study attended the Okunye alternative school, and Audri and Samara were close in age, they
attended some classes together.
Audri: She's very funny. Samara is the most funniest girl I ever known.
Samara: That too, and I’m nice. Like, I’m really nice. People be thinking –
Audri: Even though she does have the resting bitch face, she is very nice. I do give her
that.
Samara: …Yeah, people be looking at me and like don’t wanna talk, or like think I’m
mad or something. Like, no. Like, once you talk to me, like my face not gonna be like
that no more.
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Audri: I kid you not. Like, walking in the halls, it's just a 50/50. Like, do I say “Hi” or do I
just keep walking? (laughing)
Samara: You say “Hi!” (exasperated) I don't be mad. Like, honestly, I be annoyed at my
face.
In this conversation, Audri shared that Samara’s outward expression could be off-
putting. This was frustrating to Samara as she recognized that her facial expression could lead
others to believe she was angry or did not want to be friendly. Perhaps her assessment above
that she was “not a friendly person” was a result of others’ assumptions. It is possible that she
placed walls up that she would rather take down. Samara articulated many times during our
sessions that she wished for others to see her as caring, understanding, and friendly rather than
combative or unapproachable.
Fighting: “If You Don’t Fight, You Scared” vs. “I’m Not a Fighter”
Samara struggled with the paradox of being labeled a fighter and finding herself in
situations where she had to fight – through her own or others’ fault – and adamantly stating
that she was not a fighter at all. Her stance on fighting was conflicted, but it was clear that
fighting played a large role in Samara’s mindset, whether she wanted it to or not.
Jadyn: You said, “back then I had no choice but to fight.” What did you mean by that?
Samara: Like okay, where I used to live, my whole life I lived over there. If you don’t
fight, you scared. Like if you don’t fight, people just gone do whatever they want to, say
whatever they want to, about you. So, you gotta fight. And then it's just like, ooh, I got
like, a little temper. And if you make me mad…
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… I used to live in (poor neighborhood in town). It really started, like, I used to
go with my granny to church every Sunday. Good girl. Good girl. And when I moved, it
was these like, younger girls, they tried to basically bully me and my sister. And we like,
“Who you think you is? Like, you ain’t nobody.” And like, it started from there. And they
went to go get these girls. Just real tough, and it's just me and my sister. And we stood
up for ourselves. Like, my mama didn’t even know. Cause…we kids, we outside. I used
to love being outside. Like you say something to me, Imma say something back. You
wanna fight? …I ain’t gonna let you beat me up. So, you go tell everybody.
Here, Samara says, “I wasn’t a fighter.” However, she got into her first real fight in the
first grade on the school bus outside her elementary school and slammed the other girl’s head
into a bus window. This began a long history for Samara of being labeled a fighter in school.
After several suspensions in her freshman year at M.W. High School, Samara was sent to
Okunye, the alternative school in town. She reflected on her experience arriving at Okunye,
where the label of “fighter” had preceded her arrival, and her general feelings about fighting.
This is one of the first times that Samara brought up a concept that we labeled “the story
following”: a negative story about herself, following her, which she felt incapable of escaping.
It was not the first time this had happened to Samara and will be discussed later in this chapter.
Samara: If you talk to me, I'll talk respectfully. A story I can remember, like when I told
you about…when I got to Okunye. And (a teacher) told me she didn't like me. She
didn't only say she didn't like me.
“Aw yeah, you're a fighter. That's the fighter.”
A lot
of people there, like, told me, “Oh, you the fighter. Oh, you be with the drama. Oh,
you crazy.”
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I don’t even try to be intimidating, but most kids, people my age, respect me.
Cause they know I’m not no pushover. Everybody know, I don’t start stuff. I’m cool, but
don’t start with me. Because you not gonna like it then.
Jadyn: Would you agree that you’re a fighter in that sense because you’re not gonna
back down from a fight? If people are calling you that, is that accurate? What would you
say?
Samara:
I’m not a fighter.
You know, people be young, they do stuff. Like, when I
fought before, it’s probably been because of me. But most times it hasn’t. You know?
Everybody not perfect. So, a couple times, on my end, I probably started it…But most
times I really – then I be trying to avoid it.
So that’s why we fight for real. I try to avoid
it. You won’t leave it alone.
And, my opinion…A lot of stuff result into a fight. So honestly, I wouldn't say I'm
a fighter. I wouldn’t. I will. I ain’t fought since New Year's. And then before that was the
last fight when I got expelled.
I don't fight. That’s not me.
In Samara’s experience, many – or even most – situations had the potential to lead to
fighting. But this did not mean she was a fighter. The statement “that’s not me” was a refrain
for Samara. At the time of this discussion, which was December 16th, she had not fought in
nearly a year, and before that, it had been at least another year (freshman year when she was
expelled) since she had fought, by my calculations. Similar to Audri, she was attempting to
rewrite a narrative that she felt had been written for her. Samara was a “fighter” who did not
fight but felt repeatedly compelled to defend herself.
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Deep Thought: My Brain is Older Than Seventeen
As part of her constant state of self-defense, Samara also felt the need to defend her
thought processes and even her ability to think and work. She was often bored at school and
completed her work early but was challenged by her teachers when she wasn’t actively
performing “busy work.” This will be revisited in the mesosystem section. In the conversation
below, I asked Samara to give me one word to describe herself. After thinking for a while, she
said, “Different.”
Samara: Different all the way. Yeah, different. There's so much I’m different in…My
brain (is) older than seventeen, I don’t know how. Like, I really be thinking about stuff. I
just sit back and think of life.
This was one of the only times that Samara acknowledged the fact that she spent time
thinking, in this case about “life.” Samara expressed frustration at the idea that anyone would
be surprised that she was fully capable of intelligent thought, finishing her work at school, or
having a solid work ethic at her job, to name some examples.
The concept of “understanding” was another refrain which came up in our sessions and
speaks to the first pillar of Samara’s mindset: empathy. Many times, Samara returned to the
concept of seeking context and understanding for both herself and for those around her. This
was an imperative for Samara. She felt that she had been placed in situations in which she was
overdisciplined, abused, forced to fight, and thus labeled a fighter – and that many of these
situations could have been avoided, had adults and peers in her life taken the time to
understand her. As a result, Samara had difficulty connecting with others. Samara’s four pillars –
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empathy, connecting with others, fighting, and deep thought – drove how she operated on a
daily basis.
Figure 6.2
Samara’s Mindset
Samara’s Ecological Systems
The diagram below (Figure 6.3) represents Samara’s individual mindset and ecological
systems (Bronfenbrenner, 1979) as derived from the narratives that unfolded in our
conversations. Samara’s personal narrative, like in Audri’s diagram, cuts across her
microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem, macrosystem, chronosystem, and her own individual
mindset. The personal narrative arrow shows that through her discussions and stories, Samara
recognized the interworking of multiple systems, settings, and other elements.
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Figure 6.3
Samara’s Ecological Systems Diagram
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Samara’s Microsystem
Figure 6.4
Samara’s Microsystem
Relationships in Samara’s microsystem included her mother and grandmother,
immediate family including cousins she was close to, friends and peers, teachers and other
school staff, coworkers, and neighbors. Samara worked late hours at a “big-box” store and was
emancipated from her mother. She reported that she lived with her boyfriend, and she
depended on the bus, rides from friends, family, and coworkers, or Über to get to and from
work. Samara attended Okunye school at the time of the study, though she dropped out in
early 2021 and did not return.
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Lessons Learned from Mother
Although Samara did not live with her mother, they were still quite close emotionally
and saw each other when they could, as they lived in the same vicinity. Samara spoke of her
mother fondly and reported that she learned many lessons from her that she valued.
You Don’t Sit There. You Just Help Them.
One of the primary pillars of Samara’s
mindset was empathy, and she credited her mother for this trait. In the following story, Samara
described how her mother taught her to care for her friends when they experienced loss.
Samara: Where I lived, like there used to be shootings. One of my friends, somebody
had got shot in they family. And my mom told me – cause you know, you young, you try
to feel how your friends feel, you know, trying to be like your friend - my mom told me
like “You need to see if you can be strong for your friend…Make sure like, you don't sit
there crying with your friends…Try to help them as much as you can. Invite them over.
Ask if they need anything.” When she told me, “See if they need anything,” she told
me, “What I mean by that, like, see if they need to say how they feel.” Food, like
anything. She would literally just break it down to me. Just to see if I'm strong.
Samara’s mother taught her that caring for others included being strong. This was a
common theme during Samara’s reflections. Strength, self-defense, independence, and not
showing weakness were traits valued by both her mother and grandmother.
I Defend Myself Automatically.
Samara maintained that many of the fights she found
herself in were not her fault, and she felt trapped into fighting by her peers. I commented
during one conversation that if I had been suspended repeatedly as a freshman, even when
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other people started the problem, and nobody tried to support or help me, I would feel
helpless or like there was a target on my back.
Samara: Yeah. Like, that's how it is for real. Like my mom like she would like, tell me,
“Do better. I understand it's not your fault but like that's what it is.” Like, she was about
the only one that really say something about it. Really try to help us because she know.
And then like where I grew up, like you don't have no choice like (in that neighborhood)
you had no choice but to defend yourself. Like you not just gonna just let nobody do
that to you. You finna defend yourself. So…like it was really natural for me. I defend
myself automatically.
To Samara, there was no choice whether to defend herself physically or not. Her mother
showed support at home but was not in the habit of going to her school to speak up for her
daughter. According to our conversations, Samara was in charge of any problems that arose at
school. Unfortunately, zero-tolerance school policies, which did not tolerate fighting, conflicted
with the values that revolved around survival, self-protection, and strength in Samara’s home.
As a result, Samara was frequently punished at school, surveilled more often, and saddled with
negative labels (“fighter,” “angry,” “mean”) that did not accurately reflect her inner disposition
(“kind,” “empathic,” “good girl”) or the more complex motivations behind her actions.
I Rode That Bike.
Samara described her mother’s “tough love” techniques with
admiration. When I asked her to share a story about her mother teaching her to be strong,
Samara thought for a minute, took a deep breath, and began with the word I came to associate
with stories of importance for her: “Okay…”
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Samara: Okay, so it took me like a real long time to learn how to ride a bike. So, my
mom know I can’t ride a bike. She took the training wheels off. She took everything off.
“Go.”
I fell.
“You strong enough. Get up.”
Like, she don't show no emotion. “Get up.
You can do it. Get up. Get up.” She just kept telling me, “Get up. This how you do it.
Do this.” Just to see if I could do it. Cause you know most kids (whining) “I can't do it. I
can’t do it.” And the mom just, you know, babyin’ them, (high pitched motherly voice)
“Do this. Do that.”
(Voicing her own mother) “You can do it. You can do it.” And…I could do it.
I
rode that bike.
And she said, “I know you could do it.” Like, physically like I'm hurting
myself. I'm falling off this bike. I'm mad. But I'm thinking like, “My mom told me I can
do it.” Basically, like anything you want to do, you can put your mind to it.
For Samara, her mother and grandmother symbolized strength and determination, and
she referred to these two women often when she spoke of her own perseverance and
independence, qualities in herself that she valued. These two women were valuable people in
her microsystem who helped her to define herself and to defend herself from harm in other
areas of her ecology.
Relationships at School
From a young age, Samara had periodic difficulty relating to others at school. This
included peers and school staff. Though she described herself as a “good girl,” “quiet girl,”
and “good student,” she felt plagued by situations in which she was forced to fight, and the
negative results of these circumstances.
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The Walk-a-Thon.
During one session, I asked Samara if she got in trouble for fighting
in elementary school. What followed was an account of a deep-rooted memory – an incident
involving the same girl from the bus incident, but this time during the school’s Walk-A-Thon
event. Here is once again the concept of being “followed”: in this story, adults seemed almost
to be hovering, waiting for Samara to do something, and they stopped her before a fight could
start.
Samara: Like…they follow you. I swear to God. Like, I think this was second grade…
Nobody liked her. She used to think she was just all that and a bag of chips. So, I was
like, we gone show you. It was the girl birthday that did it. And I think somebody hit
her. And she done hit me, done swung on me! I didn’t even touch her. And when I say
they grabbed me so fast
(grabs her own shirt to show this). Like soon as she hit me, they
instantly grabbed me. I couldn’t hit her back. I was so mad.
And this was the Walk-A-Thon. Everybody used to love that. Like, it was so fun.
And everybody I used to hang with, like my cousins, stuff, we all in the office. I’m
getting in trouble! Everybody like “She ain’t even hit her! She missing her Walk-A-
Thon!” Like, I was crying. Like they had me missing the Walk-A-Thon…You get T-
shirts…I made sure I made it during the Walk-A-Thon. They said cause I banged her
head at first, like I was guilty. “Guilty by association” (chuckles). I was so mad.
The incident between Samara and her peer could have ended with the adults
intervening and then allowing the children to continue with their day. However, Samara wound
up in the school office, missing the Walk-A-Thon, along with her family members who
attempted to explain the situation. Samara, who had been taught to defend herself and fight
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back in order not to be taken advantage of, was punished for a fight she did not start. Years
later, she expressed that she had been angry for two reasons: missing the Walk-A-Thon and
not being granted the opportunity to punch back.
You Wouldn’t Defend Me if You Could.
Samara attended traditional high school for just
a few months before being expelled and moved to Okunye. She was distrustful of teachers
because of her experience at M.W. High – this will be shared in the mesosystem section – and
when she arrived at Okunye, she found smaller class sizes and more one-on-one time with her
teachers. Social workers were available to support her. Her view of Okunye, like Audri’s, was
very positive. However, not all the school staff at Okunye were supportive or culturally
responsive to their students’ needs. In one discussion, I asked what it was like to be a Black girl
in school, and how she felt the teachers viewed her. This brought up issues Samara had with
her U.S. History teacher and fear she had surrounding his political and racial views. The class
session she recalled was shortly after Breonna Taylor had been killed by police. Samara found
herself and her classmates unknowingly arguing the concepts of stereotype threat and identity
threat with their teacher.
Samara: I said to the teacher, “Why do we have to feel like we have to be extra careful,
so (police) won’t shoot us, they won't kill us?” And he had nothing to say after that. Oh,
the Breonna Taylor situation. (Assuming angry teacher voice) “Why would you shoot?
Why would you shoot?” For one, the man said the police did not acknowledge theyself.
They just came in them people house. And then, that man probably had his reasons.
You don't know the neighborhood they live in. You don't know they everyday life.
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These last two sentences were a refrain for Samara: a call to consider the lives of others,
and also to consider that we may never understand the full experiences that another person is
living and therefore should remember to always be kind. This examination was something
Samara attempted to do in her everyday interactions with others. Samara continued:
A white kid tried to tell (the history teacher) he think Trump is racist. (Voicing the
teacher) “Why do you think that? We can bet money!” (Samara looks disgusted.) You’re
trying to bet a kid money to prove somebody’s racist? Then he just think Joe Biden's
just this horrible, horrible person that shouldn’t even live. And I be in there laughing
cause it’s like, you really think this way. It be like the whole class against him. Every…
time a Black person die, he try to justify the police.
Jadyn: How does that make you feel? What are some feelings that pop up during class,
besides angry? I feel like that's the natural feeling.
Samara: Scared! Because, if you a police officer - and this Okunye. Kids fight, kids do
stuff all the time. Cause they got expelled, so. Kids do stuff all the time, anyway,
expelled or not.
If something happens, you would kill me. Off the bat!
You wouldn't
even think twice about it! Scared! Even if you not a police. Police come up here for
something,
you wouldn’t defend me if you could.
You wouldn’t even help the situation
if you could. (Gets lost in thought for a second, frowning.) Like I be scared, for real.
By Samara’s account, multiple students in the class were upset by the teacher’s views
on the current political and racial climate. Her description of other students’ comments showed
they were disturbed by the conversation. As a vital part of children’s microsystem, teachers
who cause their students to feel scared to be placed in their care during dangerous situations
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are seen as liabilities by those children (Reynolds, 2019). Samara felt that her history teacher
might fail to protect her or even cause her life to be at greater risk in the event of police or
peer violence at school. She considered such violence a likely possibility on any given day, and
the beliefs expressed by her teacher led Samara to feel unsafe at school.
Workplace: Y’all Don’t Know Everything About Me. Literally
Samara worked at a big box store across town several days per week. According to
Bronfenbrenner (1979), the workplace is in a child’s exosystem. This is because he did not
account for children working themselves; parents’ workplace, separated from their children,
belongs in the exosystem. However, when children work, their workplace and coworkers
become part of their immediate sphere of influence – the microsystem.
As an emancipated minor, Samara worked hard to support herself and was proud of her
work ethic. She brought up a frustration she experienced regularly at work due to identity and
stereotype threat.
Samara: It’s like crazy, cause like, some people that work there – like I have a whole
(work) vest on. They be watching some of us, like we stealin. Cause you know like, we
zoning (working in certain departments to neaten up the aisles), so it's like we probably
like, bend down, we like close to the aisle, trying to reach to the back and get
everything. They be trying to like peek and look at us like we stealin or something. Like,
you think I’m finta steal from my job. Y'all don’t know everything about me. Literally.
(Laughing) You think I'm gonna steal from this place? (Shakes head.) So weird.
Samara used laughter frequently when expressing surprise, frustration, anger, or
resentment – feelings that were not humorous. In the above narrative, she laughed while
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describing her coworkers or supervisors surveilling her while she was practicing a diligent work
ethic. Being watched and followed was something Samara had come to know as part of being
Black, being a girl, being a young person, being herself. She felt that this surveillance – a form
of identity threat (van Laar et al., 2010) – affected her life in many ways, including her ability to
perform her job. Other stories featuring Samara’s take on being a young, Black female will
come later in this chapter.
Samara’s Mesosystem
Figure 6.5
Samara’s Mesosystem
The mesosystem, where interactions occur between microsystem settings
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979), includes stories from two main concepts for Samara: overdiscipline,
and the need for understanding and context. These two topics go hand-in-hand. I have
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selected two stories in which Samara shared incidents of extreme overdiscipline: one occurred
at M.W. High School, and the other at Okunye. Finally, a concept I have termed
the immediacy
of discipline
also comes to play in the mesosystem.
Overdiscipline and the Need for Understanding: Did He Really Just Slam Me?!
The following story describes the incident that resulted in Samara’s expulsion from
M.W. High School. Prior to the beginning of this excerpt, Samara shared that the fight began
when a peer approached Samara in class, stood in front of her threateningly, then attempted
to hit her and almost missed, just grazing Samara’s face.
Samara: After that, (resigned, shaking head) she just was getting beat up. And then so,
we fighting her…Mr. (substitute), he get in between us…he pushed me out the
room...
Then he slammed me like so hard
, like, I never got slammed before (laughing).
He don’t even know us, like, body slammed me, for real (laughs). Right by the lockers, I
was just so shocked after he did that, I was like (makes shocked face), Did he really just
slam me? …The girls I was fighting still in the room so (nodding sheepishly)
I tried to go
back in the room. I was, a little crazy.
And slammed me again!
I was like… (chuckling, surprised) He slammed me! So,
I’m on the floor…
he sitting on top of me.
Like, I never got sat on before! ...I look up.
Everybody else walking free!
During an unquoted portion of this story, Samara explained that before the substitute
teacher intervened, she and her peers had been fighting in the classroom for five minutes.
Questions one might ask could include: what made the substitute teacher feel that he had the
right to tackle a child of any age, how had the girls had been allowed to fight for over five
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minutes without any intervention, or where were the administrators? Unfortunately, there are
no clear answers to these questions. The code of conduct for this school district does allow for
teachers to physically intervene and restrain students, though it does not provide information
or guidance on how to do so appropriately in varying scenarios (District, 2021). It put in mind
for me the incident in which a similar girl was slammed by school officer Ben Fields in 2015, as
mentioned in Chapter 1 (Reynolds & Hicks, 2016).
Samara might have been severely injured during this event, which brings into question
the wisdom of a document granting physical rights to teachers who have not been properly
trained. In Indigo’s chapter (Chapter 7), the code of conduct is discussed in more detail,
including the “right” of teachers and staff to use force on or restrain a child.
This incident, crossing multiple settings and people within Samara’s microsystem, led to
the school administration calling police, involving yet another set of players. Another educator,
Mr. Fisher, came to their aid.
Samara: Mr. Fisher helped us out, though, cause the police officer wasn't there, but we
was all finna go to jail. They told us, “y’all all shoulda go to jail,” but he told us. He was
like, “Go, because they on they way right now.”
So, we go outside. (The police) were pulling up fast…Me and my friend, we pull
our hood down…And then we went to go hide at (a nearby neighborhood). So, they
call our parents. “Yeah, y’all suspended.” So that’s when they was like, “Y’all getting
expelled.” Like, what?
Samara and her peers were made to stay of school for two months. Without looking
into the deeper context of how Black girls are misread, surveilled, overpoliced, and
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overdisciplined (Love, 2019; M.W. Morris, 2012; Winn, 2011; Wun, 2016a, 2016b), this
punishment may seem understandable from the perspective of the school staff and the district.
The district had a code of conduct and policies that fostered a zero-tolerance policy stance on
fighting. However, Samara was very intent on keeping up with her work. She had never been
suspended out of school for so long, and she valued her grades.
Samara: We calling them like, “Can we get some work? Can we, like, what can we do?
Mind you…like we're not calling. My mama callin, like “Can they get some work? Can
they get something? Cause they just out of school.”
Samara, who viewed herself as a good student, was staggered by her expulsion and
confused by her teachers’ refusal to recognize her desire to do well. After waiting so long for
her work, Samara was expelled from M.W. High. She was sent to Okunye, where, told
previously, she encountered a teacher who branded her a fighter before she entered the room.
“Immediacy of Discipline” and Resistance: I’m Not Going to Her Class
Samara valued her academic progress and her work ethic. Therefore, she struggled with
teachers who were quick to label students with lazy. The next story involves the Okunye
teacher who labeled Samara as a fighter. From this account, it seems that this teacher
continued to harbor preconceived notions about Samara. This judgment led to a standoff
between them that lasted for days and involved other staff members. The story below was
preceded by Samara falling asleep in class due to exhaustion and boredom: she had worked a
shift at her restaurant job until 10:00 PM the night before. When Samara woke up at her desk,
the paper she had been working on had been collected.
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Samara: So, I wake up. No paper, everybody gone. So, I just went to my next class, I
don’t know how late I am. But before I left, I asked for my paper. So, I think I had
finished it halfway.
So, I came in the next day, to finish it before class start. So, she walked up to
me, (voicing teacher) “You're doing that wrong.” I'm like, “Why you ain’t tell me that?”
(Affected teacher voice, loud, upset) “Oh because you went to sleep. You were asleep!
You didn't do your work!” …Mind you, she's asking us like how we feel, and I'm like,
“Yeah, I'm just tired, you know, I've been working every day.” You know, so she knew.
And we was cool, but you know, what she said about me still was in my mind. So that
took me there already.
…So, she just kept going off, and then she was like, “So you can leave.” I said,
“I wasn’t even saying nothing to you, but I sure will.”
And then they tried to send me to mediation…so (I could) come back to class. I
said, “I don't want to do it. I don't.” Because, like, something like that, you made it into
something it even wasn't…And I told them, “I'm not going to her class.”
In this school district, children who are suspended must be mediated back into the
classroom. It is unclear why Samara was sent to mediation in order to attend this teacher’s
class, since she was not suspended but simply left after an argument with the teacher. I did not
get a chance to pursue further details with her about the reason for mediation; however, I can
assume, based on the continuation of Samara’s story, that she refused to go back to that class,
which is why the social workers attempted a mediation.
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Samara: I didn't go to her class for like a whole week. Sure didn’t (giggling). So, she
brought my work (to another classroom), slammed it on the desk (looks amazed). Like
“BAM” (makes slapping gesture in the air) …She walking out the room. I’m like, “Okay.
Samara be cool, be cool.”
Samara finally agreed to do the mediation with her teacher. Another teacher helped to
mentor Samara, guiding her on what to say, “so she don’t feel like you getting smart or
nothing.”
Samara: I let her talk. I didn't interrupt her. I didn't make no faces…Cause I don’t want
her to feel I’m doing nothing wrong…She said I did something, I didn’t even like, “No I
didn't! You did that!” I'm lettin her talk. I didn’t make no face. I looked at her, eye
contact.
So, okay, it's my time to talk. Okay, I let you talk. My turn. Didn't get smart. I was
a little sarcastic (laughs)…For one thing, she’s not even looking at me. She walked out
in the middle of me talking. I’m like (jaw drops). The lady I was interviewing with, she’s
just looking at me, we just looking at each other. Like, “You seeing that too?”
This last part of Samara’s story is especially problematic for several reasons, not the
least of which is the fact that Samara was coached in the norms and values of (white) behavior
so that, while defending herself and her right to learn in a classroom and with a teacher in ways
that are not combative, she was not perceived as combative herself by the adults in the room
who had power over her. Samara noted that she did not interrupt, made eye contact, and did
not make faces, even when she felt the teacher was telling her side incorrectly. She had been
groomed to not appear threatening during the mediation (Townsend et al., 2010). The teacher,
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on the other hand, walked out of the room when it was Samara’s turn to speak, asserting the
power she had to not listen respectfully, as Samara had been so carefully instructed to do. The
teacher apparently received no consequence for her refusal to show equal respect to Samara
during the mediation, while it seems evident that the teacher who mentored Samara did so to
save her from any consequences of being perceived as antagonistic.
For a child who already felt trapped into fighting, the incident above did nothing to
lessen this outlook, and the situation was left unresolved. Samara frequently asked questions
during our discussions about the immediacy of discipline: in her experience, children were set
up for instant punishment, but adults were seemingly untouchable even when displaying
problematic, racist, or even abusive behavior. Samara’s perception was that teachers received
no consequences and had full rights to treat the children in their classrooms any way they
chose. The immediate discipline that children experienced seemed especially harsh when they
demonstrated agency through resistance, as Samara herself discovered.
In their examination of resistance, Solorzano and Bernal (2001) listed four behaviors that
children practice to combat structures in school – reactionary behavior, conformist resistance,
self-defeating resistance, and transformational resistance. These four behaviors were mapped
out according to the students’ awareness of oppression and desire for social justice, with
reactionary behavior being the least cognitive response and transformational resistance being
the behavior most likely to achieve desired outcomes of change (Solorzano & Bernal, 2001).
Solorzano and Bernal (2001) conducted their research with Chicano/a students. The analysis of
resistance requires great care when considering the complex ways Black girls interact with the
elements in their ecosystems. Such analysis would be appropriate for a paper unto itself.
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However, it is useful to view Samara’s responses to the people and settings around her through
the lens of resistance.
Samara practiced resistance when she recognized that situations involving her personal
agency, autonomy, safety, or individual freedoms were threatened. This resistance showed up
in varying ways: examples included speaking out in protest of specific school or class policies,
refusing to conform, standing up for herself verbally or physically, and living and speaking
truthfully. Ultimately, she dropped out of school, a form of resistance that Solorzano & Bernal
classify as self-defeating. However, Samara’s view of Black girlhood was transformational: in her
macrosystem section, I share in more detail that she viewed her existence as a Black girl as
having to prove herself to everyone, all the time. According to Solorzano and Bernal, this form
of thinking is transformational because it demonstrates a child’s recognition of negative
stereotypes, the desire to counter the stories that have been told about them, and their
persistence in navigating the educational system not only for themselves, but for others like
them. The fact that Samara dropped out in the end is only one part of her story and fails to
account for the years of resistance she practiced up to that point.
The mesosystem incorporates interactions between settings in the microsystem. For
Samara, stories, whether true or fictitious, followed her from setting to setting and set her up
for uncomfortable and combative situations. Teachers, who should assume a protective role
and serve as examples for children, became part of Samara’s surveillance system: they watched
for signs of “bad” behavior and looked for ways to squash it or even punish it before it had a
chance to surface, rather than searching for paths to understanding. Samara’s comments, both
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above and to come in this chapter, frequently focus on why adults do not seek context when
working with children.
Samara’s Exosystem
Figure 6.6
Samara’s Exosystem
Samara’s exosystem, settings that affected her but did not actively involve her
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979), included the bus system, work and school discipline policies, police,
neighbors, and peers who did not interact regularly with her. I placed Samara’s father in her
exosystem, as she had no contact with him. School policies, including the discipline policy,
incorporated the code of conduct, which was implemented by teachers and administrators in
an attempt to compel Samara to behave according to standards and values that were deemed
acceptable to society but did not necessarily mesh with her values. Additionally, other peers’
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families have been placed in her exosystem, due to the values upheld in these homes that may
or may not have played a part in Samara’s encounters with social or disciplinary issues at
school. For this section, I will focus on three main arenas: the workplace, transportation, and
school discipline.
Workplace Policies
Samara often worked until 10:00 PM or later on school nights. She frequently overslept
and missed school and our project sessions. Ultimately, she dropped out of both the project
and school entirely, and though I never received an explanation as to what happened, I knew
enough about Samara’s schedule and life demands to wonder whether she simply reprioritized
her life. Samara contracted COVID-19 during the study, and she reported that it exhausted her
even after she was cleared to go back to work. One morning, about a week before Christmas,
Samara and I had a session, and the first thing she did was complain about her work schedule.
Samara: You know what they did? So, okay, you know it's the holidays. They got me
working five days straight before the holidays. Okay cool. I don’t have no problem with
that. So, mind you, (the store) is closed on Christmas…Then another five days straight!
I’m not working that (laughing incredulously). No, no. Like, that's almost 10 days
straight…I’m gonna be so tired.
Samara explained that the corporation who employed her used a points system which
penalized workers if they missed work. Employees incurred a double penalty if they missed a
day during the week of Christmas. The workplace attendance policies were set up outside her
immediate sphere of influence, but they nevertheless had a significant impact on her
wellbeing. Citing that she was still in high school, she had asked repeatedly for an earlier shift,
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only to be ignored. The universal corporate policy of closing the store on Christmas but not
counting it as a day off (or paying employees holiday pay) and working employees five days in
a row before and after – and counting it against them if they called out sick – were detrimental
to Samara, as a student and as a developing teen who needed sleep. It was nearly impossible
for Samara to make a living as an emancipated minor and to attend her classes in the morning
while working at this job. However, she reported in an earlier story that she had previously
worked at McDonald’s, also until 10:00 PM. It is unclear whether Samara had tried to look
elsewhere for a job with a more manageable schedule. However, as a full-time student living
on her own, there is no scenario in which Samara could have worked during the day, allowing
her to be asleep earlier to get enough rest before her morning classes. This life/school/
workstyle was untenable for Samara, and yet it was one that she had to navigate in order to
survive.
Transportation Issues
Exhaustion was a theme for Samara. In addition to her demanding work and school
schedule, Samara did not own a car. The local bus system was not set up to support workers
who worked late at night, with most bus lines ending their routes before 7:00 PM and service
halting altogether on major holidays. This placed Samara in a position of dependence on
others for rides to and from work so she could make a living.
Samara: Like, I literally be having to ask everybody for a ride home. What if one day,
nobody gives me a ride home? I'm just gonna be stuck.
Samara lived in a relatively small city, but a fifteen-minute car ride became an hour-long
trip by bus and a desperate search for a ride home each day, often leaning on people in her
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microsystem for favors. Her last option was to give her hard-earned money to an Über driver to
get home. All of these scenarios involved time-wasting for Samara, who needed time to study,
sleep, and care for herself. I have wondered if this was a contributing factor in her decision to
stop attending school.
School Discipline Policy
The district discipline policy was upheld to varying degrees by Samara’s teachers and
administrators at M.W. High and was similar to the policies of many districts throughout the
country (M.W. Morris, 2012). The code of conduct, which will be discussed more in depth in the
next chapter, laid out lists of rights and responsibilities for students, parents, and staff, along
with a long list of possible “gross disobedience and misconduct” infractions that could possibly
warrant student suspension, expulsion, or jail time (District, 2021). The document did not,
however, draw direct connections between the rights and responsibilities of students and those
of staff members. According to Samara, this missing link was ever-present in school, where
rules were often cited without reason or explanation.
Who Are You to Say How Everything Gonna Go?
Because this project centered on the
overdiscipline of Black girls, naturally I brought up this topic on more than one occasion in
different contexts. In one conversation, I asked Samara what questions came to mind when she
thought about discipline.
Samara: I want to know like, who idea was it? Who mind was it to like say like, “Oh,
yeah, this is how it's gonna go, and it's gonna go like that.” Like, who are you to say
how everything gonna go?
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Here, Samara asked a reasonable question: Who was the first person to decide the
rules, and how do they apply to me? This was an enigmatic idea for her, as often she was told
by her teachers to “behave” in ways that did not make sense. Working quietly, not resolving
arguments in ways she had been taught, continuing to do “busy work” when she was finished
and bored, and other confusing norms were frustrating when the only explanation was that it
was “proper” behavior. When she resisted these directives, she was often punished,
exacerbating her confusion and anger.
I Don’t Do What They Do. I Don’t Move How They Move.
Samara pondered the
concept of discipline and norms further in a later discussion. The thought process led her once
again to the idea of seeking context when interacting with children.
Samara: Another thing about discipline in school. Like, the teachers, the principal and
stuff like that. They don't know what a kid just came from.
Like a facial expression, them
not talking in class, them not interacting in the class. You don't know what happened to
somebody for y’all to just, “Oh, I don't like that.”
You(‘re) just disciplined for whatever
they think you did. They never know what you done came from. Some kids probably
just came from getting beat on. You never know. And do you know what that’ll do to
somebody? They don't know that, and they don't think about that…
I feel like that's really what it is in school discipline. If (teachers) feel like they
don't like it, you can get in trouble. A teacher can really say you did anything. Write it
d