As I write this column, George Floyd is being buried in Houston in a grave next to his mother’s. According to friends and family, “Big Floyd” had a knack for making people feel welcomed. As a child, he and his brother shared a bed and an affinity for football and banana-mayo sandwiches. George’s second grade teacher saved a piece of his artwork, in which he illustrated his desire to be a Supreme Court justice. He was known to give incredible hugs. His life mattered.
His death, like those of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery and countless others, is part of a pattern that we do not like to acknowledge but must: that our society treats Black lives with less respect, value and humanity. These unconscionable deaths are the result of centuries of structural racism and bias. We must all play an active role in dismantling these inequitable—and extremely harmful—power structures, and we must also examine our own role in perpetuating an unjust society. Black lives matter.
In early childhood education, Black lives matter enormously. More than 40 percent of ECE professionals are women of color, who disproportionately bear the challenges and inequities of our field—low wages, lack of access to health insurance and affordable higher education, and now the enormous costs of the coronavirus pandemic which, in the U.S., has (once again) negatively impacted people of color more than their white peers. These women matter.
Some readers of this magazine may not understand why this Dear Reader opens with the story of George Floyd. It is my belief that if we are to move forward as a country and a profession, we must address with candor the intersection of race and early childhood. Grappling with concepts such as systemic racism or white supremacy can feel unnerving, but we owe it to each other to persevere through the hard conversations. These conversations matter.
Perhaps more than ever before, early childhood professionals are being called upon to work tirelessly on many fronts. Some child care providers have kept their doors open during the pandemic in order to care for children of essential workers. Others are closing their programs, unable to sustain payroll with diminished enrollment. Parents are afraid to send their children to school; teachers are afraid to teach.
Meantime, many of us are undertaking the essential work of talking about race and justice with our colleagues, the children in our care and the families who entrust their children to us. Some of our readers have lived every day of their lives to a drumbeat of activism and advocacy; others are just beginning their journey. Each day, in countless ways, we can find opportunities to lead and to innovate, to persevere for our field and for the children we believe in.
I believe in Zuri Jensen, the girl in this photo. Her life, her access to opportunities, her dreams, her safety, her future: these things matter. This photo was taken last month at a protest in my home state of Nebraska, and when I am feeling low, I contemplate the courage and power emanating from this slip of a girl. And I feel hopeful.Zuri’s mother Jeona is an educator. She wrote to me, “That picture embodies everything that I have been teaching my daughters from the beginning. I have a strong foundation in social justice, and to see my baby stand there so powerful and strong in her convictions at the age of seven still leaves me in awe.”
Our work—your work—is challenging and intense and can feel never-ending. The same can be said of the work of anti-racism, the steady press forward for equal justice, equity in healthcare and education and economic and cultural access. This work requires dedication and fearlessness. It forces uncomfortable conversations and hard truths. But take heart. As writer and activist Ijeoma Oluo noted, “The beauty of anti-racism is that you do not have to pretend to be free of racism to be an anti-racist. Anti-racism is the commitment to fight racism wherever you find it, including in yourself. And it is the only way forward.”
Let us move forward together. Some days our hearts and minds will sing, energized with renewed purpose and commitment. Other days, we will feel tired. That is okay, too. Those days we will look to others to carry us through. Exchange will carry you. I will carry you. Because you matter. I see you, and you matter.
Sara Gilliam author and former editor of Exchange magazine.
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