Recently, I was asked, "why don't you say the pledge of allegiance?" And I replied with the same answer, albeit a bit more sophisticated, that I gave to my sixth grade teacher, "Until this country lives up to the meaning of its creed, I cannot pledge my allegiance to an entity that has no faith/trust in its people, and treats us as second class citizens."
These words were repeated from the mouths of my role models, my mentors, who were my Godmother, two sisters and brother. My Godmother was a revolutionary herself, but in a very refined feminine way. Her style was more Martin L. King, Jr., so her motto would be, "you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar," and now I understand that method as I am rearing my 30s. However at age ten, I felt a kinship to the style of Malcolm X, so wearing my black, red and green bracelet like my sisters seemed more empowering. My siblings, who were all in college at the time, were more forthright in their ideas and beliefs. Now, as their eager protégé, I began to be interested in the same things they were. I did what most young people do--emulate the people of their time or environment. Luckily, my environment consisted of political debate, religious discussions and a constant reminder that I came from a legacy of leaders, agitators, truth-seekers and people who stand for what they believe. Like a sponge, I soaked up their ideas, beliefs and dreams into my own. I began to read books such as, Black Like Me, The Holy Bible, The MisEducation of the Negro, Isis Papers, etc., and although I didn't know all the words, reading them with my role models helped me to feel the meaning of the words. Involuntarily, my path had begun, a purpose was planted in my heart, and although I didn't know it then, I had begun to form my own voice. I was building a belief structure, and I wanted my actions/behavior to mirror the things I had the audacity to speak into existence.
Admittedly, my 10-year old mind didn't understand the magnanimity of my words or actions, but I did know that I meant what I said, and that feeling of purpose has followed me since.
Now, you're probably wondering what were the effects of my little display of civil disobedience, huh? Well, it wasn't done haphazardly. My then-best-friend and I planned to remain seated when the school announcement for the pledge came on the intercom that morning in 1990 at Coro Lake Elem. So, first thing that morning we prepared for whatever happened. I informed my sisters of my plan and they were 100% supportive. So armed with confidence, we remained seated while my classmates followed orders and stood for the pledge. I guess, somebody didn't tell one of my classmates that snitching was a "no-no", and he called us out. Immediately, my then-best-friend stood up to blend in with the other students. I was surprised that she left me hanging, but I stood or sat firmly on my beliefs. When the teacher told me to stand, I refused. I was shaking. I was nervous. I was alone in this, but I couldn't turn back now because all eyes were on me. She asked me again, I was silent and remained seated. When the pledge ended, she came and stood right in front of my desk and questioned my reasons for not following her orders. I remember looking her straight in the eyes, not breaking the stare, not raising my voice and definitely not moving out of that desk. I wanted her to know that this was important to me, that this was something I had to do for me because this belief was apart of me. Threatened by my independence, she threatened to send me to the office, to call my parents. I replied, by simply being still waiting for her to do what she felt she had to do because I, too, was doing what I felt I had to do.
When that threat of consequence didn't work, she asked me to step in the hallway. After a moment to regain the feeling in my legs, I followed her into the hallway. She told me that she didn't want to "write me up" because I was one of her best students. She couldn't understand why I wouldn't just do it. Once she realized that she wasn't able to change my mind, she told me that if I insisted on not pledging to the flag, I would have to sit in the hallway every morning. This may not sound like much punishment, but this was elementary school, and the time before the pledge was the opportunity to talk and congregate with my friends before class started. Also, "bad" students sat in the hallway. It wasn't the type of recognition I was accustomed to receiving, but this was the sacrifice or the consequence for my act of civil disobedience.
Of course, they contacted my house only to reach my sister who came to the school and supported me. I was blessed to say the least, but it was a pivotal moment for me. My classmates looked at me differently. The little boys didn't tease me as much after that because for all their "disobedience" they never stood up to a teacher and "got away with it." I don't know if "I got away with it" because I was given the choice to assimilate or sit in the hallway during the pledge each morning. I chose the latter, and every morning between 8am and 8:15 that's where you'd find me. And my Judas then-best-friend decided later to join me in the hallway every morning after the initial "showdown." lol.
And because I was her friend, I forgave her. It was lonely being a revolutionary at age ten.
Although no one else joined us consistently, I remember once or twice when a another student refused and joined us just to "see" or came to school late to "see" what was happening in the hallway. The movement didn't go as swiftly as I had planned, but I was an army of one, then two and sometimes three or four. Regardless, I realized then that it only takes one person to take a stand before others to follow. No matter where I was or what program we attended, I never acknowledged the pledge or the flag. From distasteful looks at ballgames or school functions, I remained true to my beliefs, and could defend them verbally if necessary.
This is the story I tell my students at the beginning of the school year to introduce my lesson on "Finding Your Voice." I began to find my voice at age ten and I challenge them to find theirs or tell the story of when they found their voice, when they decided to stand for something that defined them. This is where character begins and ends--in the actions you display and the truth you do or do not speak. Words are great tools, but are useless without action. So what are we servant leaders or followers? A person of faith or doubt? Confident or ashamed? Full of love or fear? Whatever it is, what makes you, you? Yet, at the same time, I stress that there are consequences or effects to every thing, and be smart and prepared for what comes because "knowing who you are" is not a spectator sport or a game. So when the feet hit the pavement, where will you be? For what belief will you be willing to take a stand, and simultaneously, the great fall to servant leadership?
These words were repeated from the mouths of my role models, my mentors, who were my Godmother, two sisters and brother. My Godmother was a revolutionary herself, but in a very refined feminine way. Her style was more Martin L. King, Jr., so her motto would be, "you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar," and now I understand that method as I am rearing my 30s. However at age ten, I felt a kinship to the style of Malcolm X, so wearing my black, red and green bracelet like my sisters seemed more empowering. My siblings, who were all in college at the time, were more forthright in their ideas and beliefs. Now, as their eager protégé, I began to be interested in the same things they were. I did what most young people do--emulate the people of their time or environment. Luckily, my environment consisted of political debate, religious discussions and a constant reminder that I came from a legacy of leaders, agitators, truth-seekers and people who stand for what they believe. Like a sponge, I soaked up their ideas, beliefs and dreams into my own. I began to read books such as, Black Like Me, The Holy Bible, The MisEducation of the Negro, Isis Papers, etc., and although I didn't know all the words, reading them with my role models helped me to feel the meaning of the words. Involuntarily, my path had begun, a purpose was planted in my heart, and although I didn't know it then, I had begun to form my own voice. I was building a belief structure, and I wanted my actions/behavior to mirror the things I had the audacity to speak into existence.
Admittedly, my 10-year old mind didn't understand the magnanimity of my words or actions, but I did know that I meant what I said, and that feeling of purpose has followed me since.
Now, you're probably wondering what were the effects of my little display of civil disobedience, huh? Well, it wasn't done haphazardly. My then-best-friend and I planned to remain seated when the school announcement for the pledge came on the intercom that morning in 1990 at Coro Lake Elem. So, first thing that morning we prepared for whatever happened. I informed my sisters of my plan and they were 100% supportive. So armed with confidence, we remained seated while my classmates followed orders and stood for the pledge. I guess, somebody didn't tell one of my classmates that snitching was a "no-no", and he called us out. Immediately, my then-best-friend stood up to blend in with the other students. I was surprised that she left me hanging, but I stood or sat firmly on my beliefs. When the teacher told me to stand, I refused. I was shaking. I was nervous. I was alone in this, but I couldn't turn back now because all eyes were on me. She asked me again, I was silent and remained seated. When the pledge ended, she came and stood right in front of my desk and questioned my reasons for not following her orders. I remember looking her straight in the eyes, not breaking the stare, not raising my voice and definitely not moving out of that desk. I wanted her to know that this was important to me, that this was something I had to do for me because this belief was apart of me. Threatened by my independence, she threatened to send me to the office, to call my parents. I replied, by simply being still waiting for her to do what she felt she had to do because I, too, was doing what I felt I had to do.
When that threat of consequence didn't work, she asked me to step in the hallway. After a moment to regain the feeling in my legs, I followed her into the hallway. She told me that she didn't want to "write me up" because I was one of her best students. She couldn't understand why I wouldn't just do it. Once she realized that she wasn't able to change my mind, she told me that if I insisted on not pledging to the flag, I would have to sit in the hallway every morning. This may not sound like much punishment, but this was elementary school, and the time before the pledge was the opportunity to talk and congregate with my friends before class started. Also, "bad" students sat in the hallway. It wasn't the type of recognition I was accustomed to receiving, but this was the sacrifice or the consequence for my act of civil disobedience.
Of course, they contacted my house only to reach my sister who came to the school and supported me. I was blessed to say the least, but it was a pivotal moment for me. My classmates looked at me differently. The little boys didn't tease me as much after that because for all their "disobedience" they never stood up to a teacher and "got away with it." I don't know if "I got away with it" because I was given the choice to assimilate or sit in the hallway during the pledge each morning. I chose the latter, and every morning between 8am and 8:15 that's where you'd find me. And my Judas then-best-friend decided later to join me in the hallway every morning after the initial "showdown." lol.
And because I was her friend, I forgave her. It was lonely being a revolutionary at age ten.
Although no one else joined us consistently, I remember once or twice when a another student refused and joined us just to "see" or came to school late to "see" what was happening in the hallway. The movement didn't go as swiftly as I had planned, but I was an army of one, then two and sometimes three or four. Regardless, I realized then that it only takes one person to take a stand before others to follow. No matter where I was or what program we attended, I never acknowledged the pledge or the flag. From distasteful looks at ballgames or school functions, I remained true to my beliefs, and could defend them verbally if necessary.
This is the story I tell my students at the beginning of the school year to introduce my lesson on "Finding Your Voice." I began to find my voice at age ten and I challenge them to find theirs or tell the story of when they found their voice, when they decided to stand for something that defined them. This is where character begins and ends--in the actions you display and the truth you do or do not speak. Words are great tools, but are useless without action. So what are we servant leaders or followers? A person of faith or doubt? Confident or ashamed? Full of love or fear? Whatever it is, what makes you, you? Yet, at the same time, I stress that there are consequences or effects to every thing, and be smart and prepared for what comes because "knowing who you are" is not a spectator sport or a game. So when the feet hit the pavement, where will you be? For what belief will you be willing to take a stand, and simultaneously, the great fall to servant leadership?
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