My family has always valued education. My mother attended Carver Elementary, located in Compton, CA. My father attended 139th Street School, located in Compton, CA. They both attended public schools during a time when resources and funding were limited. My parent’s educational experiences in public school settings shaped my future. June 25, 1983, I was born into a family who had already learned “the game.” “The game” I am referring to is the compass they created with the help of generations before them to navigate a corrupt system designed to exclude and harm Black Americans. My family would spend the next 18 years and more giving “free game” to my siblings and I about the system they were still learning to navigate. I would interact with anti-black, discriminatory, and marginalized systems everywhere, especially in spaces and with people outside my zip code. I would become insecure. I would remain in a constant state of hypervigilance, watching, waiting, and silent. My silence became my defense. I could survive if the system did not see me or acknowledge my presence. I would remain invisible. The secret is that the system does not care about those who self-marginalize themselves and choose social isolation. On the contrary, the system cares about those with a voice, voices who wish to invoke change with radical knowledge about disruption and empowerment. The viral foundation of white supremacy is rooted in almost every educational structure globally. The institutional systems remain dormant until a host can infect the vital organs; the brain and the heart. The cost of intervention is high, resulting in teacher burnout, academic instability, mental instability, and a decline in the overall well-being of students and staff. Other black students and I have encountered this virus and dealt with the heart-wrenching side effects of marginalization caused by daily viral overload. 

I encountered this virus in elementary school. It almost consumed me. The private, predominantly white school lacked diversity, authentic interpersonal relationships, and qualified teachers. I recall countless acts of cruel and unpleasant behavior from teachers in the classroom. I still remember the anxiety-driven moments of being dropped off on campus, with fear of the day ahead. The knots in my belly were unbearable at times. I never had the opportunity to develop confidence, identity, academic success, or a genuine relationship with teachers. Despite all this, I desperately tried to please the teachers. The school’s culture presented itself as orderly, clean, joyful, and foundationally sound. If we were to peel away the many layers of cultural systems at the school site, we would see that the students of color who were favored adhered to the predominant ways of being at school. They learned to adapt and survive in an environment where their experiences and identities were not seen as social capital but as awkward burdens. The quickest and most efficient way to fit in was to comply.

 It was this experience that changed the trajectory of my life. Every experience where I have been misunderstood, ignored, and ridiculed in educational spaces has prepared me for this moment. These racist giants, or “Goliath’s,” are determined to keep black students saturated within anti-black systems. I was determined to fit into this system to gain the favor of the educators with whom I dearly wanted to connect. It seemed that I was the right student in the wrong school. My truth did not matter when it was up against deficit perspectives about what I could do in classrooms centered on marginalization. It was time to pivot. Jay Samit (2015) explains that “pivoting is not the end of the disruption process, but the beginning of the next leg of your journey.” My new school was uniquely staffed with black teachers, leaders, and a predominately black student population. My black educators' critical consciousness (Khalifa et.al., 2016) would begin to build mine. As a result, I thrived in high school and furthered my education by obtaining a bachelor’s degree in liberal studies from California State University Northridge. Additionally, I received a master's degree in special education from California State University Dominguez Hills. 

 A pivot in leadership requires that leaders aspire to “Remain Awake Through a Great Revolution.” Democratic leadership in educational spaces is a new way forward, centering the voices of the students and families to inspire transformative healing and change. Inspired by the words of Dr. Martin L. King Jr: “Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.” I am thankful for the many leaders and educators who understood the words of Dr. King, the importance of a pivot, and the use of their critical consciousness to facilitate my healing.