by John Wray | Nov 15, 2023 | Blog
The DEIJ agenda in schools and school districts is being led by many courageous, committed and skilled people, the vast majority of whom can draw on real life experiences of dealing with the effects of personal and systemic prejudice and/or discrimination. Too often these people are isolated, insufficiently supported and recognised. They deserve better and their work will become more deeply impactful if they have the active support of their Heads of School/school leaders, especially those of us like me, white, male, cisgender, wealthy and possessing many other aspects of identity that afford me great privilege. In order to provide active support school leaders must model the learning journey that we expect our stakeholders to undergo; deeply interrogating and understanding their own identity, the identity of others; the opportunities and the struggles that aspects of identity can result in and our own privilege and internal biases. They also need to be active allies, if not advocates rather than the passive stance that I see so often. I have walked this journey with our talented and courageous Director of DEIJ. Most of the time I stand behind her, sometimes I stand beside her and occasionally I stand in front of her to help lead this work.
by Tariro Chinondo | Apr 13, 2023 | Blog
Comfort
Tariro Chinondo (2007-)
When day came we went to school.
Beginning to develop our knowledge.
But between class was when we started to realize,
We were divided.
With your fingers in our braids, you ask,
“Is your hair fake? And how do you wash it?”
At the end of the day, we learned to embrace discomfort.
We graduated primary and with that, the queries faded;
Nevertheless, the silence did not always bring peace.
Never spotting a teacher who looked like us,
Never learning about our motherland.
But when we did, all was associated with slavery.
The ignorance of our comrades began to show,
And our education further ignited it.
Approaching the end of our school years,
We formed clubs.
We examined and carried forth plans,
But our advancements were ineffective.
Now here we stand pleading to you all,
And yet you still ask if we are comfortable.
It will take long until we are comfortable.
Bio: Tariro Chinondo is a member of the Black Student Union and a DEIJ-CEESA student representative at the Vienna International School. She is a student advocate on matters of inclusion and justice. This poem reflects experiences that Black students face within the international school ecosystem.
by Danau Tanu | Dec 17, 2022 | Blog
Alien Citizen: An Earth Odyssey is like an anthem for those who grow up internationally but its genius has thus far escaped the attention of the international school community. Elizabeth Liang’s gripping film and performance is a godsend for international educators grappling to find creative ways to address difficult, complex issues relating to racism and inequalities that speak to both children and adults.
Written and produced by Liang, Alien Citizen opens with a booming voice taunting her on stage to answer the unanswerable questions that Third Culture Kids (Pollock et. al., 2017) and mixed-race children often hear: ‘Where are you from? … What are you?’ It then follows Liang’s childhood of moving internationally with her ‘Guate’-Chinese-Irish-European-hodgepodge- American family, partly to escape the civil war in Guatemala in the 1970s at first and then later as a ‘business brat’ when Xerox posted her father up and down and across the Atlantic Ocean.
Liang—the sole actor in Alien Citizen—seamlessly switches from one character to another as she humorously unearths a hoard of deep-seated pain that many children experience but have no words with which to express it. After moving to Fairfield County in Connecticut, USA, she notices that ‘nobody on TV looks like me, except maybe Spock on the Star Trek reruns!’ Just as Liang is feeling culturally displaced and in need for a sense of belonging, she begins losing her Spanish, the language that connected her to her father’s large and loving extended family in Guatemala.
But she does not stop there. Liang deftly places those same issues that have been covered a myriad times in expat memoirs squarely in the middle of a world riddled with social inequalities that spans across centuries. Liang spares no one from critique, not even herself.
In a poignant scene, after trying and failing to speak Spanish to their housekeeper, five-year-old Liang takes a broom in an attempt to hit their housekeeper, Filomena, while her older brother tries to stop her. My own doctoral research shows that when children are overwhelmed by language barriers, they sometimes express it in ways that look like the behavioural problems of a spoiled, privileged brat, such as by punching their classmate or yelling ‘shut up’ at their teacher (Tanu, 2018).
It is not lost on the adult Liang that ‘Filomena left her home in the highlands of Guatemala’ out of poverty to take care of her privileged family in ‘the coldest, unfriendliest town in New England’. Later, she alludes back to Filomena as Liang makes fun of her beloved Chinese Guatemalan family elders who were horrified by the dark tan she had picked up from playing in the sun at her next home in Panama because they were ‘obsessed’ by anti-indigenous colorism (see Knight, 2015).
Liang’s brilliance lies in her ability to convey the child’s deep sense of loss at the exact same time that she exposes the absurdity of the prejudice borne out of vast, global inequalities. While many with similar international childhoods like hers struggle to go beyond addressing identity or transition issues in generic terms, it is not so for Liang who is far too talented and fiercely honest for such a myopic focus.
A teenage Liang realises how tender she feels towards Egypt when she witnesses a group of Egyptian boys playing soccer appear helpless in the face of one European boy taunting them with ‘fake Arabic’. Liang delicately addresses the ambivalent feelings that emerge when social class hinders a child’s desire to build meaningful relationships with the local community.
In high school, Liang becomes ‘excellent friends’ with Hamed, a local student who does not ‘speak any language without a foreign accent’—not even Arabic, thanks to his international schooling—and seems out of place in Egypt despite having never lived anywhere else. According to the psychologist Drs. Doug Ota (2014), ‘stayers’; are often forgotten by school transition programs even though they are repeatedly left behind by ‘expat’ classmates who come and go as though through a revolving door.
The goofy Hamed became my favourite character even though the Grease-loving Liang won’t dance with him at a school dance because he is not ‘cool’—never mind the fact that the teenaged Liang was just as awkward—because…high school is high school. Be prepared to cry and laugh (hard) at the same time.
In all this, Liang never loses sight of the child bewildered by the constantly changing world around her. As she takes the audience with her from Guatemala to Costa Rica, the US, Panama, Morocco and Egypt, we see a young child gradually shut down from ‘transition fatigue’ as she turns into a teenager in her sixth country. All the while, her adolescent body is subjected to regular sexual harassment that she could neither fend off nor comprehend at that age.
Covering everything from mobility, identity confusion, racism, class prejudice and sexism to eating disorders, Liang is able to distill the essence of these difficult and deeply personal experiences and present them in a manner no scholar possibly could. And she does it with superb comic timing.
The film is a dynamic viewing experience thanks to director Sofie Calderon and editor Daniel Lawrence. Shot at different angles in front of a live audience, the energy of the performance and the editorial pacing are top notch. Audio effects enhance the atmospheric storytelling while visual effects add welcome texture, with scenes changing to the sound of a Xerox photocopy machine.
What’s more, because Liang is a master storyteller of childhood emotions, international school students would be able to instinctively pick up on the complex issues more than you might anticipate. In fact, Alien Citizen gives voice to what your students already know but are rarely invited to talk about. Indeed, it is a film that you ‘feel’ as much as you see.
It was a crisp evening in March 2014 near Washington D.C. in the US when I reluctantly dragged my jet-lagged body to the hotel ballroom of the Families in Global Transition (www.figt.org) conference to watch a live performance of Alien Citizen for the first time. I had initially thought,
‘What can one woman in a black T-shirt and jeans possibly do on a near empty stage?’ I came late and slumped into my chair.
But by the time the stage lights faded on Liang to signal the end, a third of the 142 attendees were bawling out our eyes.
‘It hit you hard, huh?’ It was the American international school educator who had been sitting next to me. He looked amused. I was a dripping wreck of snot while he looked curiously as fresh as when he first sat. So, I glanced around. The ones sobbing seemed mostly to be those who identified as having spent their childhoods ‘growing up among worlds’.
It was the first time we had heard our stories told with such compassion and brutal honesty.
This film review was first published in the EARCOS Triannual Journal (Fall 2022): https://issuu.com/earcosorg/docs/et-september-2022/74
About the Film
Alien Citizen: An Earth Odyssey is available on DVD and digital streaming in Individual (home use) and Institutional versions: www.aliencitizensoloshow.com . The DVD includes a Q&A with Elizabeth Liang and director Sofie Calderon, and interviews with Liang’s brother and parents. The Institutional DVD and Streaming License both include a digital toolkit with over 35 clips from the film, each followed by questions to promote learning and discussion.
References
Knight, D. (2015). What is colorism? Teaching Tolerance, Fall(51), 45-48. Retrieved from
www.learningforjustice.org/magazine/fall-2015/whats-colorism
Ota, D.W. (2014). Safe Passage: How Mobility Affects People and What International Schools Can Do About It. Stamford, Lincolnshire: Summertime Publishing. www.safepassage.nl/the-
book
Pollock, D., Van Reken, R.E. & Pollock, M. (2017). Third Culture Kids: Growing Up Among Worlds (3rd ed.). Boston: Nicholas Brealey Publishing. (See also www.crossculturalkid.org )
Tanu, D. (2018). Growing Up in Transit: The Politics of Belonging at an International School. New York: Berghahn Books. www.berghahnbooks.com/title/TanuGrowing
About the Author
Danau Tanu, PhD, is the author of Growing Up in Transit: The Politics of Belonging at an International School and a Japan Foundation Research Fellow at Waseda University. Website: www.danautanu.com ; Twitter/Instagram @danautanu
by AIELOC Team | Dec 13, 2022 | Blog
I am tired. I am tired of violence in the news. I am tired of defending my existence, of having the
same conversations over and over about “pronouns this and pronouns that.” We are getting
gunned down and all you do is flash your rainbow “ally” badge and have yet another
conversation about including pronouns in your email signature, all while misgendering me in the
process.
When it comes to real talk of change; of teaching children about identity that’s inclusive of
gender diversity and sexuality, your body tenses. “Our community is not ready for this yet.
Maybe next year.” You are the gatekeeper who decides at what capacity we exist, and that is
wrong. Hints of us exist on your website. We are in your equity statement. We are hidden in
language like, “diversity” and “belonging”. In strategic plans and anti-bullying policies. Yet, we
are invisible everywhere else where it matters like classrooms and curriculum. Your equity
statements and social justice committees are selective of who they include. Cherry picking who
is included is the antithesis of this work. You tout the analogy of “mirrors, windows, and sliding
glass doors”, yet all you want to see is yourself.
What are you afraid of?
If anything, we are the ones who should be afraid. We have been under attack for centuries;
between policing how we look…how we act…who we love…
Today, this still exists on both an individual level and at a larger scale. Anti-trans legislation
continues to pass all over the world, and there are countries that refuse to allow us to exist. And
yet, we persist. We still go out. We teach. We party. We express our radical love through our art
and our chosen families. We thrive and celebrate joy in spite of the hate that you perpetuate.
We are not afraid, but you are.
You are afraid of children's books. You are afraid of graphic novels. You’re afraid of using
pronouns, of drag shows, of freedom of expression. You are afraid of the endless possibilities
that we represent, of the love we represent. Everyday we suffer as victims of violence. And I yet
I am not allowed to read a book with a transgender child as its protagonist. How dare I correct
you when you misgender me. How dare I defend myself against the onslaught of your passive
aggression. How dare I exist.
Queer children exist in every single classroom, yet they rarely see themselves reflected in the
books and curriculum taught to them. Suicidality is several times higher in Queer youth than cis
heterosexual youth, and that is because of your inaction. Your inaction is violence. We are dying
while you are sitting in your office telling us which books we can and cannot read, which topics
we can and cannot talk about. Power hoarding and gatekeeping are rooted in white supremacy.
What are you afraid of?
Your fear is violence. It is because we cannot read our books or tell our stories or exist in
classrooms that these shootings occur. You spread your fear, and so others are afraid. They act
on this fear with violence. Others are not given the opportunity to explore the infinite ways of
being in this world. Their ignorance, the ignorance that you perpetuate, makes them fearful of
the unknown. It’s the reason why so many young people die of suicide. It’s the reason why our
spaces and our communities are under assault.
We are both the same, you know. We have both experienced gendered trauma in our lives. I
would wager that we both grew up being forced onto gendered norms which we did not consent
to. We were ascribed a role we did not choose. Many of us grow older and continue this path.
There is no shame in that. But why silence others who travel a different path? Is our difference
so harmful to you? Free yourself of this burden of fear and join us in our love and liberation.
