Counterstorytellling is so much more than just a tenant of critical race theory. It is at the heart of what we do as antiracist teachers. For Black and brown educators, our presence has always been felt and necessary in schools because WE are the counterstory. We represent hope, progress and possibility for our Black and brown students.
We are counterstorytellers by default because many of us have spent our entire lives striving to shift the narrative within our families and our own communities. The resiliency that we exhibit, on a daily basis, to show up and overcome personal accounts of racism in a world indoctrinated by whiteness is our narrative.
Our ability to master the art of schooling and utilize the tools and techniques we have learned to navigate a racist educational system that was never designed for Black and brown folx to thrive is our counterstory. We have an authentic frame of reference that allows us to guide our students in building their own agency around how to challenge the racist narratives shared about them, their communities, and in the whitewashed textbooks that they’re forced to read.
Our Stories Are Our Superpower
Our superpower lies in our ability to tell stories that forge human connections with our students. I know this for a fact because our greatest revolutionary leaders laid the foundation for me and many paid a fatal price for it. Knowing that, I have an obligation to step into the classroom every day to share the stories of these great leaders, to unveil the truths they never had the opportunity to reveal because they transitioned from the world too soon.
In the end, right-wing politicians, conservative politicians, and anti-CRT folx can police all the textbooks, bully us into resignation, dish out fines, and do everything imaginable to block students from the truth. But what they don’t realize is that we, as Black and brown teachers, have always moved in the spirit of our ancestors. Even though the invisible tax is still very much present and our racial battle fatigue is unquestionably an inevitability, we still persist and dutifully engage in counterstorytelling as a tool to protect, empower, comfort, and center our Black and brown students.
We work tirelessly to present to our Black and brown students a reality where our stories can help them peel the multiple layers of their identities to reveal the greatness of their existence in this world. We are the modern-day griots. Some of us do it with the unapologetic rawness and unequivocal flair of Gil Scott-Heron, while others make it happen with the elegance and immeasurable grace of Toni Morrison.
Regardless of how we articulate the spoken word of liberation in our classrooms, our mission is the same: to teach our students the truth about who they are and how they are seen by others in this world. I would be remiss if I didn’t point out how these same politicians and anti-CRT folx have historically touted Ruby Bridges and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. as symbols of a post-racial America, but then conveniently exploit and appropriate their legacies for the purpose of political warfare.
As annoying and frustrating as all of this is, here is one thing that will always remain true—the stories that we hold in our hearts for our students and the lessons that we have gained from our own subjugation and oppression in this society serve as our underground railroad to freedom. That sacred knowledge can never be taken away from us no matter how hard these politicians try—and that’s where our power lies.