by AIELOC Leadership Team | Mar 21, 2025 | Blog
Friday, March 21, 2025
The Association of International Educators and Leaders of Color (AIELOC) strongly opposes any proposal to dismantle the United States Department of Education. As an organization dedicated to advancing equitable and inclusive education for all students, we firmly believe that the Department of Education plays a vital role in ensuring access to quality education, protecting civil rights, and upholding educational standards across the nation.
Dismantling the Department of Education would have devastating consequences for millions of students, particularly those from marginalized and underserved communities. The Department is responsible for administering federal financial aid programs, enforcing Title IX and civil rights protections, and supporting historically underfunded schools through initiatives such as Title I funding. Without this oversight, the risk of educational inequities and disparities would increase significantly, leaving many students without the resources they need to succeed.
Furthermore, the Department of Education provides essential support for teachers, administrators, and school districts, offering research-based best practices, grant opportunities, and policies that help drive student achievement. Its role in collecting and analyzing educational data also ensures that lawmakers and educators can make informed decisions to improve learning outcomes nationwide.
Education is the foundation of our democracy and our economy. Eliminating the Department of Education would undermine decades of progress in expanding access to high-quality education and closing achievement gaps. We urge ALL to reject any efforts to dismantle this crucial institution and instead focus on strengthening its ability to serve students, families, and educators.
We welcome the opportunity to engage in further discussions on how to enhance our education system while maintaining the necessary federal support and oversight that the Department of Education provides.
by Kanako Suwa, AIELOC Fellow | Mar 12, 2025 | Blog
This weekend, I attended a DEI exchange in Laos, hosted by Vientiane International School, for the second year in a row. One of the workshops I took part in was about seeing autism and ADHD through an equity lens, during which the facilitator, Jonathan Norlin, asked us to peruse stories about individuals who lived with intersectional identities; AuDHD/female, AuDHD/POC, and AuDHD/LGBTQ+. I naturally found myself curious about the stories of queer people with autism and/or ADHD and while listening to them speak so candidly about how their neurodivergence affects their queer identity or vice versa, a seed started to grow in my brain. How does MY neurodivergence (ADHD) affect my queer identity?
I’ve given a lot of thought to my sexuality over the last few years. I’ve even recorded a monologue about my queer discovery journey. In it, I talk about how growing up, I had “crushes” on boys and girls – my attraction to both genders was never a question, even when I struggled to put a label on it. Things clicked once I discovered the term “bisexual” through Tumblr, and since then, I’ve identified as bisexual, pansexual, and queer. Bisexual, because that was the label I stuck with for so long. But pansexual because that is more inclusive of trans and non-binary people. And queer, because it allowed me to continue the self discovery without putting myself into a box, and because something still felt amiss.
As we got older and everyone around me began dating seriously, I felt no sense of urgency or need to find myself a romantic partner. Living in SE Asia, it is so easy to meet travellers who are passing through the city, people who are here for a fun time but not for a long time. That, to me, was enough. I went on dating apps, swiping left and right, and honestly enjoyed messaging “strangers” and finding out new things about new people, but I also never felt real interest in grabbing coffee or going on an actual date. Conversations from dating apps would fizzle out, once they realised I had no intent to meet up with them in person, and I always closed the apps feeling a slight heartache and confusion. Why am I speaking to strangers on the internet, on an app designed for finding true love, when it never went beyond a few messages?
After being diagnosed with ADHD, my therapist told me about the spoon theory in the neurodivergent community. The Spoons Theory, by Christine Miserandino, is this idea that we all start with a certain number of spoons to start the day, and each activity you engage in takes spoons away from your pile. Learning about The Spoons Theory early on in my ADHD journey allowed me to rationalise my lack of interest in “going on a date” as a lack of spoons. I thought that by the time the end of the day rolled around, I would have no spoons left to doll myself up for a date or to spend an evening with a stranger because social interactions take a lot of spoons for me too.
This rationalization gave me a way to explain my lack of interest in dating, almost blaming my neurodivergence and its challenges. And even though this afforded me a little bit of comfort, the confusion and wonderings about myself, and my sexual and romantic identity, didn’t really dissipate. Because if I’m being honest, it wasn’t always true that I didn’t have the spoons to go out to dinner or do other activities after work – on average, 2 days out of the 5 work days, I had enough spoons left in the day to go to the gym or go to dinner, or even do both sometimes. So this “excuse” I had built in my head about the spoons were beginning to collapse and I started to think that I was broken for not having any interest in something everyone around me seemed to find easy – most of my friends are married now, even the ones who “swore off” dating a few years ago.
Now, I’m no stranger to the emerging terms in the queer community. I spoke to my therapist about the possibility of me being aromantic, someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction, but that didn’t really sit right with me either. Because I had crushes and been in relationships, and even though none of it amounted to a long-term committed relationship, I still thought I felt attracted to the people I was dating.
But as I sat in this workshop listening to neurodivergent queer person describe themselves as neuroqueer, that seed in my brain began to take a life of its own. I thought specifically about my crushes and relationships, through an ADHD lens, and started to realise that they may have actually been one of my “hyperfixations”. A hyperfixation is an intense occupation a person with ADHD may have towards a certain subject or activity, and in my case, these crushes were my hyperfixations. I thrived on the dopamine rush I got from talking to my crush or getting attention from them, but they never evolved into anything substantial or long-lasting, because just like a hyperfixation meal can feel wrong all of a sudden, the crushes would also disappear overnight. Dating apps gave me hits of dopamine that my brain was craving, because of the notifications on my phone, the excitement of meeting new people, and, with an endless amount of people to swipe through, even simply matching with someone felt like a game.
While I haven’t entirely let go of the idea that it would be lovely to find a partner to share life with, I now feel more comfortable using aromantic as one of my labels, leaning towards the “having little interest in romantic relationships” side of the spectrum. I recognised that my past crushes and relationships were truly based on my need for attention and dopamine, more than true romantic feelings. Looking back now, I also notice a pattern in my break-ups. It was always because I lost interest. Because the relationship became too familiar and I lost that excitement around being with that person.
Upon further reflection, I realize now that I probably care for my friends and even my students more than I cared for my romantic partners, and that should’ve been a sign. I’m always interested in what’s going on in my friends’ lives. I love hearing about their new accomplishments. And I definitely feel an immense amount of pride and joy when students share their achievements. I care deeply for friends and students, and I do try to give all of my love, because I’m not incapable of feeling love. It’s just that romantic love has never really been an interest to me and I didn’t realize it because I kept finding other explanations for why I wasn’t wired the way most of my friends were.
So unbeknownst to me, ADHD has been affecting my sexual / romantic identities for the longest time, probably even before I was diagnosed. And if it hadn’t been for DEIx25 and Jon’s workshop, I wouldn’t have actually sat down to think about how neurodivergence affects queer identity for me, so thank you to VIS and to Jon!
Kanako Suwa (she/her)
LinkedIn / Instagram / Website
by Anonymous Community Member | Mar 4, 2025 | Blog
“Competent white men must be in charge if you want things to work.” Does this sound familiar? Well if you look at the historical trend as well as the current trend at international schools, tell me how this is not reflected in its current state! You may be outraged, you may have a philosophical difference, you may have an ethical challenge, but the reality is that white men still dominate the International school leadership trend, with little attempt to include non-white leaders.
The discourse surrounding Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, Justice, and Belonging (DEIJB) has gained significant traction in educational institutions worldwide. However, a troubling trend has emerged among some Heads of School and Boards who have weaponized anti-DEIJ rhetoric to justify their disengagement from these critical conversations. It is essential that we confront this mindset and embrace a more inclusive approach to leadership that reflects the diversity of our communities.
This reflection challenges the international school community and its leaders to confront the realities of systemic racism, inequities, and exclusion that are not only prevalent in the United States but are also seeping into our educational environments (Smith et al. 45).
The Dangerous Rhetoric of Exclusion
Let’s be blunt: the rhetoric that seeks to undermine DEIJB work is nothing short of dangerous. When school leaders hide behind claims of threats or backlash to justify their refusal to engage in DEIJB initiatives, they are not merely being negligent—they are actively choosing to perpetuate a system of oppression. This is not a passive oversight; it is a conscious decision to uphold a racist framework that systematically marginalizes students and educators of color (Johnson 112).
By prioritizing a predominantly white faculty, these institutions are reinforcing an exclusionary narrative that sidelines diverse perspectives and experiences. This isn’t just a preference; it’s a betrayal of the very principles of education. When schools opt for a homogeneous staff, they send a clear message: only certain voices matter, and those voices are overwhelmingly white (Lee and Martinez 78). This is a direct affront to the ideals of inclusivity and equity that we claim to champion.
The Whitification of Communities
The current political climate in the U.S. has birthed a disturbing reality where Latine individuals, especially those who align with pro-Trump sentiments, are being relegated to a narrative of second-class citizenship. The notion that light skin can somehow protect one from systemic oppression is a grotesque myth (Garcia 33). Let’s face it: no matter how one identifies or how light-skinned one may be, the white community often views individuals of color—regardless of their skin tone—as outsiders.
This is not just an observation; it’s a clarion call for educational institutions to wake up and smell the coffee. Complacency in these issues is complicity in perpetuating systemic racism. It’s time to dismantle the comfortable delusions that allow us to ignore the harsh realities faced by marginalized communities. If you think that ignoring DEIJB issues will spare you from the consequences of systemic oppression, think again. The same forces that are erasing the rights of marginalized groups in the U.S. will not hesitate to target you next (Roberts 29). For those who believe that their light skin will grant them immunity in U.S. colleges and universities, think again. To those who wish for their children to assimilate into a white Western culture, reconsider your stance. No one is exempt from this systemic oppression.
What our students truly need is the ability to embrace their identities and leverage their cultural competencies to navigate this complex global landscape. This cannot be achieved through a homogenous faculty of white teachers and leaders. It’s time to dismantle the illusion that assimilation equates to success. Our educational institutions must reflect the rich diversity of the world we live in, empowering all students to thrive in their uniqueness rather than conform to a narrow standard.
The Silence of Educational Leaders
So, why are Heads of School and international schools silent about what is happening? Why are there no public conversations about how to deal with the trauma inflicted by the current climate in the U.S.? This silence is deafening and alarming. It raises serious questions about the commitment of these leaders to the values of equity and justice. Are they so entrenched in their comfort zones that they cannot acknowledge the pain and trauma affecting their students and communities? Many Heads of School have made “justice” such a dirty word, as it made white people uncomfortable, and look at the impact it has on this world, especially in the US. Your inability to model discomfort and your ability to convince your community that it’s not important highlights your lack of understanding what protecting everyone means and protecting your community.
Ignoring these pressing issues does not make them disappear. In fact, it exacerbates the trauma felt by individuals who are already marginalized. The absence of dialogue around these critical topics is not just an oversight; it is a failure of leadership. Educational institutions should be places of refuge and support, yet many are choosing to turn a blind eye to the realities that their students face (Thompson 54). The continued use of this recruiting platform, echoes your inability to dismantle a white racist and oppressive structure from which you continue to benefit.
The Role of Recruitment Agencies
Why are recruitment agencies still allowed to operate while actively reinforcing a white supremacist bias system? Those Heads of School that utilize these agencies are not just complicit; they are reinforcing and maintaining a racist structure that marginalizes diverse talent (Evans 22).
The lack of accountability for these leaders raises critical questions: Have their voices and power exceeded the call for justice from the global majority? It is unacceptable that these practices continue unchecked, allowing a cycle of exclusion to persist in our educational institutions. Historically, leadership networks have been dominated by white men, who have upheld each other through established connections and shared privileges (Harris 66). This platform, which is predominantly used for advertising leadership roles, reflects that legacy, reinforcing a system that maintains their power and perpetuates a “good old boys’ club.” As a result, the voices of marginalized groups are drowned out, further entrenching inequity in our institutions.
Accountability for School Boards and Communities
It’s high time that school boards and community members are held accountable for their choices. If your institution is predominantly white and actively resists DEIJB initiatives, you are perpetuating a racist agenda that harms not only students of color but the entire educational community (Miller 12). If your community only desires white leaders and teachers, then their approach is not just misguided—it is fundamentally racist.
We continually hear about governance courses and retreats, yet I am still waiting for a retreat that confronts the uncomfortable truths about the harmful and negative impacts of racism. The “whitification” of international education as the gold standard is a dangerous myth that must be dismantled. It’s time to challenge the status quo and recognize that true leadership in education demands diversity, equity, and inclusion—not just lip service. The future of our students and the integrity of our institutions depend on it.
The silence surrounding these issues must be broken. We must confront the uncomfortable truth: when we allow our schools to reflect only a singular narrative, we are failing our students and our society.
Collaborators in Oppression
Moreover, the DEIJB community is not without its own complexities. Those who have acted as collaborators with oppressive systems, often under the guise of promoting peace and unity, must also be called out. It is no longer acceptable to pacify racist behaviors or to bring individuals to the table who do not genuinely seek to dismantle systemic barriers. These members need to confront their complicity in harming peers in their community (O’Connor 44). The time for polite discourse is over; we must confront the reality of our situation with urgency and candor.
As members of the international school community, we have a responsibility to advocate for the marginalized and to confront the systems that oppress them. Enough is enough. The pain caused by members within the DEIJB community in their complacency and conformity must be acknowledged and addressed. Those who are within our community that have perpetuated harm must confront their actions and the impact of their choices.
It is not enough to retreat to the DEIJB community for support when the protectors of oppressive systems move away. We must demand accountability and transparency from our leaders, ensuring that they are not only aware of the issues but are actively working to dismantle the structures that uphold inequity. Know who you support on stage, who you like on social media and who you claim to have integrity and love for our community.
How Resistance to DEIJB Reflects White People Upholding White Systems
The BIPOC community has long been engaged in a complex struggle to dismantle the systemic inequities perpetuated by predominantly white structures. Historically, these communities have extended an olive branch, inviting those who have benefited from these systems to join in the effort for equity and justice. This approach was rooted in the hope that collaboration could lead to meaningful change, allowing all individuals, regardless of race, to benefit from a more equitable society.
Scholars like Crenshaw (1991) emphasize the importance of intersectionality in this dialogue, suggesting that inclusive discussions are essential to understand the multifaceted nature of oppression and privilege. However, this effort to include everyone at the table has often been met with resistance, revealing deep-seated biases and racism that persist within these structures. As BIPOC individuals navigated the complexities of allyship, some aligned themselves with white counterparts, believing that collaboration could foster progress. This alignment, however, has not been without consequences.
The recent resurgence of overt racism and aggressive attacks on BIPOC communities in the U.S., as noted by scholars like Bonilla-Silva (2018), has had a profound impact on DEIJB initiatives. The backlash against these efforts has emboldened international school leaders and institutions to retreat from their commitments to diversity, equity, inclusion, justice, and belonging. This retreat signifies not just a failure to address systemic inequities but also a capitulation to an increasingly hostile environment that seeks to undermine the very principles of equity and justice. The implications are dire: as DEIJB efforts are sidelined, the foundational work necessary to create inclusive environments is jeopardized, leaving BIPOC communities vulnerable to intensified discrimination and exclusion. This implosion underscores the urgent need for a reevaluation of strategies and a commitment to more radical forms of advocacy that center the voices and experiences of those most affected by systemic oppress
Conclusion
The time for change is now. We must challenge international schools, boards, and communities to engage in meaningful DEIJB work that uplifts all voices, particularly those that have been historically marginalized. Let us not shy away from difficult conversations or the discomfort that comes with confronting our own biases. Together, we can create a more inclusive and equitable educational landscape that truly reflects the diversity of our global community. Our students are watching our actions.
Works Cited
-
Bonilla-Silva, E. (2018). Racism Without Racists: Color-Blind Racism and the Persistence of Racial Inequality in America. Rowman & Littlefield.
-
Crenshaw, K. (1991). “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color.” Stanford Law Review, 43(6), 1241-1299.
-
‘Evans, Sarah. “The Role of Recruitment Agencies in Educational Equity.” *Journal of Education and Diversity*, vol. 15, no. 2, 2023, pp. 20-25.
-
Garcia, Maria. “Racial Identity and Systemic Oppression: A Critical Analysis.” *Race and Education Review*, vol. 12, no. 1, 2023, pp. 30-40.
-
Harris, John. “Historical Contexts of Leadership in Education.” *Educational Leadership Journal*, vol. 18, no. 3, 2023, pp. 60-70.
-
Johnson, Lisa. “The Impact of Leadership Silence on DEIJ Initiatives.” *International Journal of Educational Reform*, vol. 9, no. 4, 2023, pp. 110-115.
-
Lee, David, and Carla Martinez. “Homogeneity in Educational Leadership: A Barrier to Inclusion.” *Diversity in Higher Education*, vol. 11, no. 2, 2023, pp. 75-80.
-
Miller, Tom. “Accountability in Educational Leadership: A Call for Action.” *Journal of Educational Accountability*, vol. 7, no. 1, 2023, pp. 10-15.
-
O’Connor, Rachel. “Complicity in Oppression: The Role of Educators in DEIJ Work.” *Equity and Education*, vol. 14, no. 2, 2023, pp. 40-50.
-
Roberts, Angela. “The Consequences of Ignoring DEIJ Issues in Schools.” *Social Justice in Education*, vol. 6, no. 3, 2023, pp. 25-35.
-
Smith, Jennifer, et al. “Global Perspectives on DEIJ Challenges in Education.” *International Journal of Educational Studies*, vol. 22, no. 1, 2023, pp. 40-50.
-
Thompson, Emily. “The Role of Silence in Educational Leadership.” *Journal of Leadership Studies*, vol. 5, no. 2, 2023, pp. 50-60.
by AIELOC Leadership Team | Feb 18, 2025 | Blog
The Association of International Educators and Leaders of Color (AIELOC) acknowledges the challenging times ahead as we navigate a landscape marked by uncertainty. In light of recent federal guidance concerning the awarding of grants to educational institutions and organizations, AIELOC would like to reaffirm its unwavering commitment to protecting our community and advancing our mission.
As outlined in the recent communication regarding Executive Order 14173, AIELOC understands the requirement for grantees to certify compliance with federal anti-discrimination laws and the stipulation against operating programs that promote Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) that violate these laws.
While we acknowledge the complexities introduced by this directive, AIELOC remains steadfast in its belief that fostering our values, beliefs, and focus on a culture of dignity, respect, learning, and fairness is essential to the educational experience and the well-being of our communities.
AIELOC’s Position:
-
Commitment to Culture of dignity, respect, learning and fairness: AIELOC believes that well-being and care are fundamental to achieving educational excellence. We will continue to advocate for practices that support these values within our community.
-
Support for Grantees: We understand that the new certification requirements may pose challenges for our partners. AIELOC is committed to providing guidance and support to help navigate these changes while ensuring compliance with federal regulations.
-
Ongoing Advocacy: AIELOC will continue to advocate for policies that enhance visibility, recognition, and support for the needs of students, educators, and leaders globally.
As we shift to understanding the evolving landscape, it is crucial that we stand together to protect the values that define our community. AIELOC will continue the important work we have set forth to do, advocating for opportunities and the well-being of all members of our community.
As we move forward, AIELOC encourages open dialogue and collaboration among all stakeholders. We invite our partners to reach out with any questions or concerns regarding the new federal guidelines and how they may impact our collective mission. For more information about AIELOC and our initiatives, please visit www.aieloc.org.
by Kevin Simpson | Nov 4, 2024 | Blog
Here’s to Braving Yet Another School Year
Sneha Choubey, AIELOC Intern
Now that the season for exams, burgeoning workload and unbelievable stress about our futures has arrived, I would like to say: That’s just school for you. Don’t you just love it?! Because I do.
I’m Sneha Choubey, a Grade 11 student at an international school in Germany, and for me, school has become a place where I can discover myself… however, it wasn’t always like that.
I’m from India and I lived there for the first 11 years of my life, but when COVID struck and my dad’s business in Europe landed in a precarious place, we uprooted our lives in the matter of a week and shifted to Poland, and everything as I knew it changed.
There I was, in an unfamiliar country, far away from home.
My home, a country with the same customs, same rules, same languages as me.
A country where people didn’t look at me weird when I walked on the street and changed the route they were on just because I was near them.
One time, as a stupid joke worthy of my 7th grade self, when an old couple kept changing the way they were walking because of me, I would too. If they went left, so did I. If they went right, I was right there with them. It was funny watching them bounce between two sidewalks just because of me.
It was funny, and it was sad.
It felt like a fever dream at first. Everything was different. I went to a school where most of my classmates were white, where everyone mainly spoke Polish, where people mimicked my accent and made fun of my country, where a teacher repeatedly touched my hair, and where I didn’t feel like I could ever belong. Everything was different and I couldn’t cope with that, so I shut it out.
I put my head down, went to school everyday, came back home and took solace in the online world.
I made some friends, but when I got the opportunity to move to Berlin, I took it immediately.
I don’t do well with change, but I knew I needed one. So, after two years in Poland, I left.
You see, that school didn’t give me anything I could use to grow as a person, so I had to get out.
Even if it meant changing my life… again.
Berlin was a new experience. It was multicultural and fierce. I hadn’t ever seen anything like it.
My new school’s website stated that it housed students from over 70 countries, and I was excited.
I felt like I could finally find my place and find myself. But I was in for a rude awakening.
In this school, discrimination ran rampant, and there were barely any consequences for it. The school’s administration found it all too much to handle, and their efforts couldn’t scratch away more than a percent of the ignorance and inaction persistent in school. There were teachers who fought against it all, and then there were some who allowed it all to happen because they didn’t know how to handle it.
It broke my heart. I really had thought this place would be different.
I felt hopeless and defeated until I saw an announcement about a lunchtime club called the Social Justice Committee (SJC). I joined it on a whim, not knowing that it would change my life.
I met people who were trying to change our community and foster inclusivity at a local and global scale.
I learnt the value of projecting my unique voice and not hiding it, and most importantly, I finally found my safe space where I could learn who I am.
I found a mentor in Ms. Kristina Pennell-Götze, I found my people, and I found myself.
I found the activist inside me. I found the changemaker inside me. I found who I’m meant to be.
After joining the SJC, I also joined the Gender and Sexuality Alliance (GSA) and therein became a part of our school’s forums for student agency, activism, and advocacy. I was later appointed the leader of the two groups in Grade 10.
The SJC comprises a group of students and teachers who are committed to raising awareness about all social and political justice issues, advocating for people and marginalised communities, changing, and fostering an environment where everyone feels valued, empowered, and celebrated for who they are.
The group initially started off as a BIPOC affinity group in 2020 in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, and has since achieved a lot, despite the struggles it faced in establishing itself.
In the past four years, we have released over 30 monthly zines that tackle and myth-bust several societal prejudices and celebrate the diversity in our community, created murals in honour of heritage months, and various learning materials for the school. We’ve organised multiple events, ranging from month-long activities for Black History Month (BLM), Hispanic Heritage Month, and Asian American Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander (AANHPI) Month, to selling bubble tea to raise money, taking the lead in our Wear Red Day in support of the Show Racism the Red Card (SRtRC) campaign, and much more.
We’ve written articles for TIE and InterACT, recorded a podcast with the Unhinged Collaboration, and have attended and presented at conferences with the GSA, such as AGIS’ first student-led DEIJ conference in March 2024 and two of AIELOC’s annual virtual conferences (1 and 2), as a part of their ‘Let them Lead’ series that features student voice and agency. As a collaboration with the GSA, we have also taken the initiative to address the inequities in the IBO through creating a petition to keep LGBTQ+ students safe and hosting an open meeting with over 100 RSVPs to discuss ways of creating meaningful and systemic change in our IB community.
We’re a team. We work with each other, and many advocacy groups in and outside of school, such as the GSA, Green Team, Sunflower Club, our staff’s DEI team, other international schools, and even organisations such as AGIS and AIELOC. We’re blessed to be supported by so many people.
Support, in fact, is all we ask for from our school. Yet, we don’t receive as much of it as we need.
Recently, students had their access to email out to all teachers restricted, which has proved to be a severe roadblock for the SJC and GSA because we send out a steady chain of notices, updates, and zines weekly.
A new rule that was meant to declutter inboxes has ended up interfering with student voice, since we’ve lost our ability to email our teachers collectively and talk to them about something important.
We’re trying to manoeuvre our work around this block, but our alternative plan of asking teachers to forward our messages along in their emails isn’t working either. Ultimately, we think that a school that prizes student voice and agency so much should employ another method of organisation that doesn’t cut students out of a vital communication channel and silence their voices more than they already are.
That’s the SJC boiled down in a paragraph or two.
Now, the GSA has been standing strong since 2007 (even before I was born!) and has always been a safe space for queer folk and allies to thrive and be themselves. Every weekly meeting consists of sharing personal anecdotes and memes, listening to queer music, and giving each other queer art and literature recommendations. But that’s not all we do. We celebrate and spread awareness about internationally recognised queer celebrations, such as National Coming Out Day (we displayed pride flags outside [OUTside, coming OUT, get it?] of windows or classroom doors), Transgender Day of Remembrance, International Pronoun Day (we sold pronoun pins in over 20 languages!) and the Day of Silence for IDAHOBIT. We’ve hosted several GSA Movie Nights for PYP students with the theme of inclusivity, diversity, acceptance, and love in all its forms, and have hosted a ‘Rainbow Room’ centred on expressing yourself through art for the PYP Cultures Day. We’ve also held presentations and panels on gender, sexuality, discrimination, and the importance of being an upstander for all MYP students (which didn’t go well at all…). We’ve spearheaded Pride Month in our school through scheduling activities throughout the month (arts and crafts, love graffiti, book read-alouds, a genuine mini-Pride Parade, you name it!) and have had the honour of being selected as the PTA grant winners, which allowed us to take a Queer Walking Tour around Berlin-Schöneberg. We’ve had a lot of fun, but there’s also been times of tragedy.
When Nex Benedict was assaulted and murdered last year, we were all at a loss of words.
They were a student going to the washroom, just like us. And they died as a result of their assault wounds.
We felt unsafe. Honestly, we always have. We hid it behind witty banter and sarcasm but we felt scared.
And angry. We know homophobia and transphobia persists in our world, but this was a stark reminder that schools were no different. Not that we forgot that, of course. We just tried to avoid it.
We’d had enough. We sent out an email blast to all of our teachers, expressing how unsafe we felt and urging them to take action, as our teachers and as global citizens.
We barely got a response. They didn’t care. We felt unsafe in school, a place where one learns and grows and flourishes into who they will become, and teachers didn’t care that some students were put in danger.
I’m tearing up as I write this. It is heartbreaking and enraging that nothing has changed since then.
We raise our voices because we need to disrupt to be heard. We want change, need change, and demand change, yet those who should care are deaf to our pleas and cries. It gets to me. It gets to all of us.
Since our teachers and leaders weren’t willing to listen to us, we went about it another way. Inspired by the NOH8 campaign and the Coming Out Monologues, we decided to create a Call to Action video (find attached the script), and all GSA members came together to share our thoughts and feelings, and hoped it would reach those who haven’t taken action and used the power they have good yet.
Again, no one cared. One teacher even suggested we provide training/learning materials and lead more workshops with staff so they could learn about it. So that they could learn about something they should’ve already known. So that they could receive more support than the ample amount we’ve already sacrificed our privacy and feelings for. So that they could start to do something we’ve begged for for YEARS. Once, we were approached with the task of writing down all the microaggressions and discrimination we’ve faced as scenarios for the teachers so they feel more connected with learning about them and how to face them. They wanted us to harvest our emotional experiences and traumas for distant adults so they could experience catharsis: “Oh my god, I had no idea this was happening in our school!”
Well, you would’ve known if you listened to us, or to anyone, really.
We’re students – literal children – and just because we do a lot of social justice work, that doesn’t mean it is our job to teach the adults about how to be compassionate teachers. It isn’t our responsibility, it isn’t something we owe them. We shouldn’t have to put in so much work to try to be safe in school.
So, in a nutshell, that’s us. The SJC and GSA. We’re people who go through this every day.
We get frustrated, discouraged, and silenced. We feel stressed, aggravated, and very tired.
Despite that, we don’t give up. We persevere. We stand through another day, and we stand together.
We stand because we want to and because we have no other choice: If we don’t fight, who will?
If we don’t fight, who will look after those who experience one injustice after the other?
If we don’t fight, when will change be brought about? How will we break old patterns and start anew?
If we don’t fight, how will we all move forward in a better direction?
So, we fight.
I’ve changed a lot since I’ve joined the SJC and GSA. I used to be scared and sheltered, and liked to repress all the things that made me different, which didn’t make me feel comfortable with myself at all.
I used to be scared of all the things that made me different from those around me, but now I cherish them and I couldn’t be prouder of them.
And as for what my hopes and dreams are? That’s hard. For now, it’s to make it out of IBDP alive.
But I know I want to be a part of the change. I want to tear down and rebuild our world, to whatever degree I can. And it all starts here at school. This is where I learn how to do it.
School has become a place for discovery. I was thrust into this unsafe and prickly environment, and I expected to experience hell (which at some points, I did), but I found my community, my passion, and myself. Each heartbreak, breakdown, burnout, fight, and want to give up has taught me something vital. There is a reason why our parents say there is a lesson to be learnt in all experiences, good or bad…
To all international school students, I imagine you face the same issues we do and you’ve had enough.
I understand how hard it is. I know how it eats away at your sanity. I feel you, which is why I’m here to say that we’re all here. You’re not alone. Even if we’re across the globe, please know that there is someone who feels the same way you do and is fighting the same fight you fight every day.
We’re all here. And we’ll make it out and enter the world as better people (while maybe angering all the bigots who come across our path while we go about it…).
So, without any further ado, welcome back to another school year! We have a lot of hurdles and obstacles in front of us, so stretch a bit and get your head in the game, because we’re going to win it.
You’re going to do great, so just have faith and continue fighting. We’re all right here with you.
by Kwame Sarfo-Mensah | Jul 31, 2024 | Blog
For context, I’m a first generation Ghanaian American who has spent all but three years of my life living outside of Ghana. While I mostly understand my family’s home language, Twi, I grew up not really being taught the language by my parents. We learned a few Twi words here and there but English was the main medium of communication in our household and every other environment we found ourselves in. Growing up in the United States, I felt like an outsider. I thought those feelings would change when I moved to Ghana at 12 years old and lived there for 3 years. Even while living there, I felt like an outsider.
I’ve never been a clean fit in any of my worlds. I’ve always been different. My whole life has been spent living outside the margins of the dominant culture. In more ways than one, I’ve received harmful messages and mistreatment to remind me of that reality. The following traumatic scenario, which I’ve played out in my mind for the last 10 years, is a prime example of this predicament.
Okay, let me set the stage………
Imagine yourself on an airplane that is heading to the Kotoka International Airport. As the plane makes its descent towards the airport, your anxiety heightens because you know the course of events that are about to follow. The minute you get off the plane, you know you’ll have to go straight to the immigration booth, which means that you’ll have to hand over your American passport to a Ghanaian immigration officer for visa inspection. By all means, what I’ve mentioned thus far is standard protocol but this is where things take a left turn. So you hand your American passport over to the immigration officer, he turns to your bio page and discovers your name, “Kwame Karikari Sarfo-Mensah”. For a brief moment, the officer looks at you and then looks back at your passport. At this moment, you have two options for a response. You can either……
- respond to the officer in English, leaving yourself subject to questioning from the officer as to why you have this strong Ghanaian name and are not speaking to them in Twi.
- respond to the officer in Twi, leaving yourself subject to ridicule and harsh criticism as to how you could be Ghanaian and not be able to speak Twi fluently.
Unsure of how to respond, you freeze in panic because you know what’s about to happen next. The officer will either call you an oburoni and crack jokes about you with their co-workers nearby or look at you in disgust and shame you for not being able to speak Twi fluently.
While this story is specific to my experience, I can assure you that others who grew up as third culture kids or immigrant students have dealt with a similar scenario to the one I just described. Whether you teach abroad in an international school or in a K-12 school within the United States, chances are you’ll have a few students within your classrooms who are struggling to make sense of their identities or searching for spaces where they are welcomed, accepted, and fully embraced for who they are. A space where no one is interrogating them or invalidating their lived experience.
These students I’m referring to are your multilingual students, students with IEPs and 504 plans, immigrant and migrant students, neurodiverse students, students who are disabled, students who practice non-Christian faiths, students who are BIPOC, students who are LGBTQ+, etc. Although they may enter your classroom with vastly different lived experiences, they are two things they all have in common:
- They find themselves outside the margins of white dominant culture.
- They all deserve to be in a classroom that feels like HOME.
Understanding that every student defines home differently, how can we make our classrooms feel like home for each and every student? We can start by thinking about our own homes. When you’re in our homes, we’re in spaces where……
- we feel a sense of psychological and emotional safety and comfort
- we can express ourselves unapologetically
- we receive support and care from loved ones
- we belong and feel welcomed,valued and accepted
- we thrive off of routine and stability
- we’re connecting intimately with our loved ones
- cherished memories and family history are held near and dear to our hearts
Regardless of who we are and where we come from, we all want to experience that feeling of home as I’ve described above. We deserve that feeling because it’s a human right, as recognized by the United Nations. In this world where government officials across the globe are shutting down DEI programs, censoring and banning culturally responsive and identity-affirming curriculum in schools, and pushing anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, it is more imperative than ever for us, as educators, to create classroom spaces of inclusion and belonging that feel like home for our most vulnerable students.
We may not be able to solve all the world’s problems but there are a few key things we can do to make our students feel comfortable in our classrooms:
In the end, no student should ever feel the way I felt during my childhood. By making our classrooms feel like home for our students, we’re committing ourselves to normalizing and embracing the beauty of difference, as informed by the intersectional nature of our respective identities. And finally, we’re committing ourselves to building learning spaces where joy, love, and acceptance are living parts of our classroom culture.
