Editorials

Ask any high schooler in America what books they have been assigned as required reading and the responses will be largely the same: Of Mice and Men, The Great Gatsby, The Lord of the Flies, The Scarlet Letter, and Hamlet are just a few among the many novels authored by deceased white men upheld to students as the best of what society has to offer. Year after year, these works are discussed in class, picked apart in essays, and for many students, shoved to the bottom of a backpack and forgotten about. They are the linchpin of literature courses across the nation, dubbed the “literary canon” due to being considered an essential and exemplary portrayal of society at certain points in history, capturing the culture and concerns of those times. The problem is, a society ruled by straight, white, cisgendered men is no longer the reality we live in today. And in order for assigned reading in schools to reflect a diverse society, our Eurocentric curriculums must be reexamined and changed.

I spent much of the earlier years of my life hungrily consuming stories of all shapes and sizes. Every Thursday, I visited the local library to browse through the Middle Grade and Young Adult shelves. I would leave with my canvas bag weighing my small body down with the possibilities of adventure and romance and found family. As I grew older and technology became more available, the weekly library trips ended and ebooks became my new source of stories. I found a safe haven in Goodreads and Booktube (a subset of YouTube dedicated to literature), where book lovers like myself discussed and reviewed their recent reads. Whether it was my Kindle or an audiobook playing in the background, a story was always nearby. In books, the protagonists’ journeys were my journeys, and their friendships were my friendships. When a character cried, my heart ached along with them. In my loneliest times, these books were my companions, my home away from home.

Yet, like a persistent nagging in my mind that heightened with the completion of every new book, I began to notice how the protagonists that I followed and rooted for and admired were all of one skin color. How characters who looked like me were never the beautiful love interest or the brave heroine who defeated a corrupt government. How minority characters stood in the shadows of their straight white counterparts, relegated to stereotypes of Asian nerd, Black rapper, and gay best friend. How the one East Asian witch in the Harry Potter series was named “Cho Chang” and was sorted into Ravenclaw, because of course she would be. How To Kill a Mockingbird, the touted token novel about racial injustice against Black people, perpetuated the “white savior” myth to pander to a white audience. Even in English classes, the critically acclaimed novels us students were assigned centered upon the experiences of white people at the expense of people of color.

It was not until I entered high school that I grasped why the books that topped bestseller lists and were praised by teachers almost never focused on minorities. It is not that diverse books are not written and published, for they are. It is not that only white people seek to share their stories, for minorities hold stories within us that are equally as deserving to be told. It is that schools (perhaps unintentionally or out of tradition) value books following white protagonists over those that follow minority protagonists, just as society has historically valued white, Eurocentric experiences over minority experiences. Realizing that my story and the stories of my fellow minorities were seen as “less-than” made me determined to seek such books out.

In ninth grade, I picked up The Hate U Give after my favorite Booktubers raved about it upon its release. It was an exceptional young adult novel written by a Black woman and inspired by the Black Lives Matter movement. Despite giving the book five stars, I was saddened that it took a nearly perfect novel for a story about a Black girl and her community to be heard above the crowd of white-centric books. In tenth grade, I read The New Jim Crow as part of research for an AP American History essay, in which I had chosen to write about the continuation of the racial caste system from slavery to present-day. Through this non-fiction book, I realized just how much of Black history has been erased and reworked to fit within Eurocentric narratives taught in school.

In eleventh grade, I read Just Mercy for an AP Language and Composition assignment. Written by African American lawyer Bryan Stevenson, the memoir describes Stevenson’s career defending the wrongly condemned through his Equal Justice Initiative. It instantly became one of the best books I had ever read. Rather than transport me to a different world in the manner of my favorite epic fantasies, the stories within the memoir revealed to me an appalling reality--one of unjustly imprisoned individuals sentenced to death at the hands of a flawed criminal justice system. I saw a hero and a role-model in Stevenson, who, unlike most of his fellow Harvard Law School graduates that went off to work in BigLaw and earn six figures, dedicated his life to nonprofit work and defending those who would otherwise die for crimes they did not commit.

Throughout the rest of my junior year, I have continued to read Ta-Nehisi Coates, Toni Morrison, Jesmyn Ward and other prominent Black writers on my own alongside the English curriculum-designated Jane Austen, William Shakespeare, and William Golding. My time spent reading the likes of Just Mercy, Between the World and Me, and The Men We Reaped bestowed upon me new perspectives on society, and expanded my worldview beyond my limited experiences as a 17-year old Asian-American girl. These literary journeys changed the way I view reading, helping me realize that to understand the Black experience and the experiences of other minority groups means to actively seek out stories from diverse authors and viewpoints. Books have the potential to illuminate and magnify societal truths, fostering understanding between groups and allowing minorities to be and feel seen. It is time that our schools realize this and begin to uplift diverse voices beyond Black History Month, Asian History Month, and the occasional optional read.

To understand the benefits of a diverse education, one only has to look to the plethora of social science research on classroom integration. A brief in the Fisher v. University of Texas (2016) case states that “a diverse student population creates a richer learning environment because students learn most from those who have very different life experiences from theirs.” In the case, the Supreme Court affirmed their decision in the earlier Fisher v. University of Texas (2013) case that the university’s use of affirmative action in their admissions process was constitutional. Another brief in the same case argues that exposure to a breadth of experiences, cultures, viewpoints, and racial backgrounds boosts students’ critical thinking and problem-solving skills, leading to greater open-mindedness and engaging classroom discussions as a result.

According to a report by the American Psychological Association, the implicit biases that result from racially homogeneous environments in “non-minority” students can be diminished by proactive efforts to increase diversity. As a result, students of color face less risk of being exposed to prejudices and stereotyping from their white peers, strengthening academic achievement. A 2001 report by the Civil Rights Project at Harvard University notes the correlation between desegregated schools and smaller achievement gaps between students of different racial backgrounds. Examining data from a San Francisco study of at-risk students for dropping out of school showed that once the students enrolled in state-ethnic studies programs, attendance increased by 21%, grade point averages increased by 1.4 points, and credits increased by an average of 23.

The research paints a clear picture that educating students in a diverse environment enhances learning for both students of color and white students while reducing interracial prejudices. But to fully realize the benefits of a diverse education, diversity should be implemented not only through integration, but also through curriculum. As noted in the report “How Racially Diverse Schools and Classrooms Can Benefit All Students” by The Century Foundation, a diverse education must “go beyond creating schools with diverse enrollments to curricular and accountability approaches that allow educators to tap into the multiple educational benefits of diversity.” Students should not only be able to see their experiences reflected in the books they read, but be exposed to the experiences of others through multifaceted and diverse reading lists.

As University of Cambridge student activist Lola Olufemi says, diversifying the current curriculum “is about expanding our notions of ‘good’ literature so that it doesn’t always elevate one voice, one experience, one way of being in the world.” Years spent studying literature that ignores or diminishes the voices of people of color and other minorities is harmful to all students regardless of background. Instead of approaching literature through the idea of one generic identity or experience, we must embrace and bring into dialogue with each other differences in race, gender, sexuality, and class that exist in society.

Two summers ago, I was in France on an exchange trip. During one of the dinners with my exchange host, I had a conversation with one of their friends about religion. Suddenly, my exchange host’s father pointed at this friend, looked into my eyes, and singsonged “Jasmine, in America like your President, you call him a terrorist!” A thunder of laughter struck the table. I nervously laughed and mumbled, “No that’s not true,” but my response was barely audible under the volcano that had erupted.

For the past five summers, I have traveled alone to a foreign country to take advantage of a Holiday Exchange program through my dad’s work, which connects employees’ children to live with a host from another country, whom they have never met. Subsequently, my family would host the exchange child at our home. The exchange program has allowed me to make new friends, expand my understanding of different cultures, and shape my world-view in uncountable ways.

Back at that dinner table in France, surrounded by delicious food and unfortunately misguided assumptions, I sizzled with silent fury: How could they make generalizations about me based on an unverified, invalidated stereotype?

It was not until I did research that evening by reading articles from a variety of sources about the President’s position on immigration that I began to understand their perspective. President Trump is the most prominent representative of the country; his words and actions reflect on all of the American people. Consequently, people in other countries may believe that most Americans, including myself, agree with the President’s positions.

I could have chosen to resent my exchange host and remain disappointed about the unfairness and inaccuracy of stereotypes. Instead, I chose to ask relevant questions, conduct research, and reflect on why the people around me believe what they believe. I also realized that just because a person may have a different opinion or perspective from my own, that does not mean what they have to say is not worth listening to.

When I encounter people who are different from me, listening to their viewpoints is one of the most powerful lessons I have learned. Ever since this experience, I have made stronger efforts to listen more deeply to what people in the world around me have to say. I never stop asking questions to expand my own worldview; I choose to use my voice to expand other people’s perspectives.

Prior to this dinner, I felt indignant that other exchange families had asked me questions like “Everyday, do you eat a mix of burgers, hot dogs, and fries?” In these situations, I politely but firmly state the best response I can think of: “No--in the United States, many people eat a wide variety of cuisines--we are a very diverse country”.

Every time I travel to a new place, not only am I curious to learn about a distinct culture, but I am excited to share my own culture and perspective with others. It gives me a sense of empowerment and responsibility that I can change people’s minds about what a “typical” American girl eats and how she thinks and interacts with the world around her.

I recognize that whenever I go on an exchange, I am also an ambassador for the people and places which make me who I am. This has given me a firm grasp on the significance of representation--representing my family, my community, even my country--and being the best version of myself to give justice to these influential groups in my life.

I know that there will be many ‘dinners’ or situations where I will be stunned by somebody’s statements about me or my background—this may even be the case at the university I will attend. Unlike that dinner in France, I will have patient ears, curious questions, and a thoughtful perspective that replaces my nervous laughter with my newfound voice.

To all young people reading this article: traveling alone is an unparalleled opportunity because you are separate from everything you grew up being comfortable with. The difficulties you face when traveling help you grow and mature in ways you do not even realize until you look back years later. I believe that this is why the American college experience is so life-changing; you are in an environment that challenges you to your core, that asks you to question and reflect on the beliefs and ideas you know to be true.

I advise that if you are ever presented with the opportunity to travel in your life, seize it and make a learning experience out of everything, even an unexpected, uncomfortable conversation.