So this week I'm reading Black Stats: African Americans by the Numbers in the Twenty-First Century by Monique W. Morris, and clearly it's taken me more than a week to read. I could blame this on having to grade all of the things for the end of the semester, or on my three children's unwillingness to just leave mom alone to read, but it really has more to do with how hard it is to stay focused while reading line after line of statistics. Don't get me wrong, I think the layout of the book goes a long way towards overcoming the this problem through the page design, organization, and use of introductory prose in each chapter, but the sheer volume of information is overwhelming.

All together, though, that information paints a picture of unequal opportunity and consequences in this country, albeit with some strides in the right direction. None of what it presented was really new to me because of my previous reading and experience, but it is an excellent resource to have so many facts collected in one place for easy access.

What I found myself reflecting on in relation to my teaching as I read, however, was how these numbers don't actually tell the story that needs to be told. Just a few weeks ago, one of my composition students was presenting on his project looking at the quality of prison food in Ohio. His research hadn't been terribly in-depth, and my other students were content to leave the discussion at, "Man, that looks like the gross food they served us in high school!" but I wanted to push them a bit further. I was asking questions about the purpose of prison (punishment, rehabilitation, seclusion) and how their position on that purpose might change their thinking about what quality of food ought to be served. Then I asked them about the fact that people of color are disproportionately represented in the prison population for things like drug offenses despite the reported rate of drug abuse being roughly equal across all demographic groups.

The majority of the class erupted into comments about decriminalizing drugs, fighting racism, or at least improving the quality of the food, but one girl kept insisting, "Or maybe they could just not do drugs! If you don't break the law, nothing bad can happen to you!" She was clearly frustrated, turning red in her anger, and I could relate to her feelings. I remember taking such an adamant stance myself in my younger days.

Which brings me back to my issue with numbers. As I'm continually telling my students regarding quotations, these numbers can't speak for themselves. If left to ourselves, we will attach whatever narrative to them that suits our worldview, whether we take the blatantly racist view that more African Americans are incarcerated because they are more inclined to criminal behavior, or the more subtle position of my student that whatever discrimination might exist could be overcome by good behavior on the part of an individual. Both views miss the point, in my opinion, of all of the numbers working together, demonstrating that a lack of access to education, job opportunities, financial services, affordable housing, health care, and a safe environment stacks the deck against African Americans in this country, making that good behavior my student sees as natural incredibly difficult to achieve.

My job as a white educator is to make sure I'm telling the stories that flesh out what these numbers mean in the lives of actual people. For more help with that, I'm moving on to Ta-Nehisi Coates' Between the World and Me for next week.