There’s a voice whispering in my ear that I’ve talked enough about this and I’m beating a dead horse, but I’m going to post this anyway.
A week (and a lifetime ago, it feels like), Maeva Veillard and I collaborated to write a letter to my middle school and high school, Lexington Christian Academy, that demanded them to reconcile past racial injustices and take steps towards becoming a safer space for Black students. As of now, approximately 235 alumni have signed the letter.
When I drafted this letter, I knew that I was going to be the one to send it to the administration. Having grown up at LCA in more ways than one and being the child of Lori Johnson, I recognized that I hold a lot of cultural capital at LCA. But as I lay awake on Tuesday night, planning to send it the next day, I kept thinking about what I was going to say in that email. How was I going to make clear that I held both the demand for change and the fond memories of my time at LCA in my hands? How would I present this letter in a way that invites the administration, educators, and board members into the work? And since this letter is Maeva’s ideas repackaged, how am I going to explain my stake in this fight?
This is what I wrote at 2 am and what I sent at 8 am (slightly revised) on Wednesday, June 3rd. Even more than the letter, it represents why I fight for racial justice. Perhaps some of you will see your own story reflected in here as well.
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Dear [administration of LCA],
There's a short version and a long version of this. Before I give you either, please click here and read Maeva Veillard's Facebook post. You may have already, but I encourage you to read it again. It's the reason for everything else I'm about to say.
Last disclaimer: [the headmaster] let me know that a letter was sent out to the LCA community yesterday. I have not had a chance to read this letter yet.
Short version: After reading Maeva's post, I wrote an open letter based on her thoughts and points urging LCA to address past wrongs and commit to better practices that support Black students. I asked alumni who agreed with the contents to sign, and it was circulated privately among LCA alumni yesterday. This letter will be posted publicly by me and whoever else would like to at 1 pm today.
I wrote this letter out of a deep love for the LCA community that supported me so well as a student but who didn't always support my fellow Black students, as I saw reflected in Maeva's post. I urge you to read this letter and the names of people who affirm what it says. I am also asking you to please forward this letter onto the board of trustees.
In response to this letter, I'd like you all to consider: how will LCA be an inclusive space rather than just a diverse space? I put forth some suggestions at the end of the letter, but it is in your hands to create action steps and begin the change.
Long version:
I am deeply connected to LCA, and I truly believe that the education I received at LCA prepared me for the rest of my life. I not only found my passion for English there but I also found community in Chamber Singers, my voice in musicals, mentors and life-long friends in teachers, seeds of a faith that is willing to engage with the world, and a core group of friends who I will love until the day I die. I am who I am today because of LCA.
However, I do not believe that LCA was as effective in teaching me to recognize my racial privilege. It was the election of Donald Trump that opened my eyes and pushed me to learn how deeply racism is embedded in our society. Looking back on my time at LCA, I'm ashamed to say I thought things like, "Why are all the black kids sitting together?" and "I guess they don't want to be my friend," not realizing the constant microaggressions and exhaustion that students of color faced every day in a predominantly white space.
LCA taught me to think critically but not to apply that skill to race: my own and others. Things may have changed in the last five years; I hope they have.
This week's events have been a culturally defining moment for America, another Ferguson. I've watched many people on social media share resources and push others to have tough conversations. I also saw what you all saw: Black alumni discussing their experiences at LCA publicly.
I at first wondered why I saw Black alumni sharing about their LCA experiences—why now? What made them want to share? I believe that the heightened conversation about racism and some American's refusal to acknowledge it has led people, particularly Black people, to another chance to reflect on times that impacted their racial understanding of the world. For me, I've been reflecting on the election of Donald Trump and the books I've read (Stamped, The Warmth of Other Suns, So You Want to Talk About Race, Who Put This Song on) lately. For Black students, one of the things that come to mind is the racism they experienced at LCA.
Prompted by Maeva's post, I reflected on my own racial journey at LCA and realized that there wasn't a lot there that I remembered. What that means is that my whiteness and privilege were not challenged, I missed out on opportunities to decenter myself in the curriculum, and I was protected by my privilege to be blinded to actual racism at LCA. I, however, did not understand these facts or have the ability to articulate them while I was at LCA. Perhaps if I did, I could have started to work for racial justice right within the walls of the senior hallway.
Maeva's post struck a chord with me (and with other alumni, black and white). I asked if I could write a letter echoing her points and then circulate it to other alumni to allow them to raise their voices. And that's what we did: send the letter to our friends and classmates and hoped they would agree and sign.
A few years ago I was introduced to this term "call in." As opposed to calling out, intending to shame and humiliate, calling in is an invitation extended out of love and necessity. It's a way of saying "I see you aren't where I need you to be, and I am going to let you know that." This letter is a call in.
As someone who would like to work at LCA someday, I am calling you in. I am standing before you to ask that you invest in concrete steps to support all your students—students like Maeva who needed a space to be safe and a curriculum in which to see herself and students like me who needed a space to be challenged and a curriculum that helped me see others. Every student at LCA deserves an educator who is trained in culturally relevant pedagogy, is actively anti-racist, and teaches students to be anti-racist.
Please, read this letter and read the names. Then ask yourselves: how can we as a school and institution address grievances? How can we take steps towards the goals stated at the end of the letter? How can we not only be a diverse school but an inclusive school? How do we become a school that values its Black students as much as students who pay full tuition? How will teachers learn to teach equitably? From who? How will you support students when #BlackLivesMatter isn't trending anymore? How will you teach your white students about the privilege they have and how will you challenge them to leverage that privilege? How will you value Black Indigenous and People of Colors' voices at LCA? In the student body? In the faculty and staff? In the highest levels of administration? How will you teach the Bible and Christianity from an equity lens, acknowledging the ways Christianity has been used as a weapon of white supremacy and as a way to begin to heal racial divisions?
I fight for justice because I follow a savior that loves every single person on this earth and calls me to deny myself and support the people who are othered. In Jesus's day, those people were tax collectors, prostitutes, and Samaritans. Today, those are the racially marginalized (Black, Latino, Korean, Chinese, Nigerian, Indonesian, Haitian, etc.) people, LGBT+ people, the disabled people, and more. I also fight for justice because I was taught to by my mother and her dedication to all students. I hope that she would stand by what I've written if she were here today.
I look forward to your answers and watching how you all will fight for justice. I am grateful for the time you have given me and the work you have done and will do.
In solidarity,
Alex Johnson, Class of 2015
