The Impact Of My Child’s Teacher Showing Up To School In Blackface

This past October, my 14-year-old daughter’s teacher showed up to school in Blackface for Halloween.

This wasn’t the first time she had experienced an incident like this. Something like it happened at her previous school.

Her former vice-principal was sent a racist and threatening letter, which also named fellow Black teachers and parents. I ended up having to explain to my daughter why she was no longer seeing some of her teachers at school. She totally withdrew — eventually we sought out therapy to help her process everything.

At the time, she told me it made her realize that, as a Black person, her voice didn’t matter.

"As a Black woman, what happened on Halloween at my daughter’s school was one of many reminders that, too often, my family's lived experiences aren't being considered when choices like Blackface are made."

With this second incident, the mounting emotional labour was taking its toll.

Many people in our school community were feeling the same. And to confront the incident head-on, parents, students and community members planned a rally. The goal was to present the Toronto District School Board with a list of demands to ensure safety and accountability — and to show support for the children of this school who had to witness a teacher in Blackface.

My daughter was ready to attend, but on the morning of the rally, she changed her mind.

I asked why, but wasn’t prepared for her answer:

"Because it’s just the same old story every time. Nothing is ever going to change. Why are we even going there? No one cares about how we feel. And if any of my teachers see us together, I won’t feel comfortable at school after."

In that moment, my heart sank.

True Daley organized the family-friendly Walk Against Racism to bring the community together and create a safe space for students to share their experiences with discrimination.

Parenting Through Conflict

I reached for words to comfort, and told her it was going to be OK.

Then I looked down at the kitchen counter so she couldn’t see the tears in my eyes.

When I was left alone in the kitchen, I sat back and thought about what she had just said.

As a Black woman, what happened on Halloween at my daughter’s school was one of many reminders that, too often, my family's lived experiences aren't being considered when choices like Blackface are made.

It also confirmed to me that I need to be the one addressing these kinds of situations if I want to enact change. Because I don’t want to leave the work for my children to deal with.

In a way, I needed to tell my daughter it was going to be OK even if I didn’t believe it. To deflect because I needed to keep my sanity intact as I tried to navigate through my own thoughts and emotions.

White Lies

As a Black parent, I have to protect myself and my children from an education system steeped in anti-Black racism.

Embedded within that system are what I call "white lies."

These are statements made to absolve people of any guilt. For example, pleading ignorance. Or passing Blackface off as a costume, not "intended to offend." These are both examples of "white lies" that many Black parents have experienced at school.

"What I’ve learned is that if it’s a 'costume,' it’s one of ignorance."

But this goes beyond education systems.

They are found in systems meant to protect.

Like when my young, too-tall-for-his-age son was placed in handcuffs after being a landed immigrant for just one week. And only because he "fit a description."

They crop up in the day-to-day like when my daughter tells me that nobody cares about how she feels.

They are the small-but-mighty lies people tell to feel comfortable. Meanwhile, it feels as though I’m supposed to shake these things off as meaningless. That they shouldn’t affect me.

But they always will.

Because they do not define me or my children. So why would I just accept them?

Finding Strength to Heal and Help

It’s my role as a parent to support my family’s well-being.

I have to look to history to do this.

Because tactics like Blackface still exist, it’s important for me to understand what they represented.

What I’ve learned is that if it’s a "costume," it’s one of ignorance and its origins are in minstrel shows. And portrayals of Black figures are very often not presented in a positive light, so when a Blackface character emerges, Black students are confronted with caricatures, like "thugs," for example. 

As a parent, I make it clear that there’s a life beyond these masks.

I empower my children to become teachers and technicians, and to make space for futures where they can be lawyers and doctors. Even close to home, in the United States, a Black man has served as president and a Black woman currently serves as vice-president. I make sure they always remember that too.

"The talk: the inevitable conversation when racism comes knocking at our door." As Tanya Hayle writes, Black parents know this all too well — but she has some advice about broaching the subject.

Making Ourselves Known

Eventually I convinced my daughter to go to the rally and take a stand on that cold November morning.

We spoke up. Specifically, my daughter was able to verbalize her feelings of betrayal. A teacher she trusted let her down.

And during it all, three "white lies" followed me home. But I’m empowered to overcome them by remembering the following:

• Impact does matter. I don’t have to hide my disappointment. Whether it’s a microaggression or, for example, our prime minister in Blackface, I am free to openly express how it makes me feel. Because it calls to memory the atrocities suffered by my ancestors. I will not be ostracized simply for expressing myself. Speaking of microaggressions …
• Microaggressions are real. While I can be shown diversity, inclusivity and social justice on paper, that doesn’t mean microaggressions, hate mail and threats aren’t still happening. I deserve to feel safe and protected. We all do.
• Blackface isn’t harmless. This is the biggest one. It’s not just a costume. I just wish my daughter didn’t have to experience it for that reality to be reinforced.

An act rooted in demeaning another race or culture is never harmless. It’s just another way to enforce a racist system — one that sees power and control as superior to equality and empathy. 

My hope for Black History Month is that people can find the courage to speak up if they experience someone in Blackface. But I also don’t want anyone to feel discouraged because someone else can’t understand or chooses to remain ignorant.

For myself, I hope to stay courageous enough to speak my mind, to hold people accountable and to share how negative stereotypes affect the Black community. Including me and my family.

For more stories about the experiences of Black Canadians — from anti-Black racism to success stories within the Black community — check out Being Black in Canada, a CBC project Black Canadians can be proud of. You can read more stories here.