Today I had 3 wonderful conversations with my students:
1. In lunch, I commented on a students tattoo that referenced a super hero. “I don’t even like that character,” the student admitted. “I like batman.” I asked why, and the student elaborated: “Like, Thor is a god. The Hulk is The Hulk and Spiderman has mad powers. But Batman keeps up with them and he has none of that.” I responded that Batman had a lot of money, and therefor a lot of advanced gadgetry, and the student nodded. Another student chimed in, “But he makes that money. And when he lost it, he made it back again. He’s smart!”
They asked who I liked, and I explained my adoration of Emma Frost of X-Men, who has the power to turn her body into the consistency of diamonds, and who has telepathic powers that rival Jean Grey and The Phoenix. The students understood that I liked a sexy lady who sparkled, and I conceded that perhaps that summed it up.
Then we embarked on a conversation with another tutor about what makes a super hero a Super Hero versus just a being with super powers. I’m still unsure.
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2. A student and I both share a love for Australia’s Iggy Azalea, a pop/hip hop artist that recently sprung to notoriety for her song ‘Fancy.’ Through this conversation on Iggy, we transitioned to female rappers in general, which of course landed us on the stoop of the esteemed Nicki Minaj.
I happen to think Nicki Minaj is beyond talented, and an entirely defensible role model. Most of the kids did not, and we got into a debate about her merits. I let them roll out their condemnations of her theatrics before I pointed out her success in a male-dominated industry, her status as an immigrant and a survivor of domestic abuse, and her outspoken criticism of double standards executed on the partition of gendered behavior. Then I pointed them towards some material on feminine agency and second-way feminism.
And we all agreed Nicki’s verse in ‘Monster’ is probably the best verse ever recorded. Or maybe we didn’t agree. I don’t need agreement on this because I know it’s true.
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3. “What are you working on?” I asked a student at their school-administered laptop. “A paper,” they answered brusquely. “What’s it about?” I asked. “Sex trafficking,” they mumbled. A sat down across from them and waited for details, but none were forthcoming. “Have you been reading about Nigeria?” I asked after a minute of silence. The student was not baited by this, and so I ventured onward, directing them towards an MSNBC article I’d just been reading about the recent, horrendous activities of Boko Haram.
Five minutes later and we were huddled with another student over the laptop’s screen, looking up any videos we could find about the developing story of the 200 hostage school girls, and the men that had taken them. This morphed into a discussion about hostage tactics and transnational force, and I got either student’s take on potential acts of negotiation.
Then, prompted by a student’s comments about Boko Haram’s flouted Islamic beliefs, we talked extensively about the temptation of generalizing an entire group of people based on a radical’s action. It was an awesome conversation I’d love to have with a few adults I know, and I was impressed by the way either student led the conversation willingly. I asked the first student if they’d use Boko Haram’s story in their paper on sex trafficking and they scoffed, “Nope!”
You win some, you lose some.
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There were, of course, many more fascinating conversation this Monday. An argument about the life and death of Malcolm X. An impassioned debate (mostly rhetorical) about laissez fair capitalism vs. general welfare. The status of the bee hive that had been discovered in one room, and evidently removed, although panic was slow to dissipate among both staff and students. The entirely unpleasant taste of tea without honey or sugar. And stereotypes. Always stereotypes.
But I’m going to keep writing about these conversations, because they’re more interesting than rants against stereotypes, and–this is perhaps a gamble–these conversations are much more effective in dismantling the often calcified stitches that keep stereotypes in mind.