Composition Forum 44, Summer 2020
http://compositionforum.com/issue/44/

Engaging the Perpetual ‘But’: Nicole’s Story

Nicole Gonzales Howell

I open an email that contains our newly revised outcomes for our first-year composition class, ready to wordsmith. As I read the last one, I sit in shock. Disoriented and dismayed, I panic.

The outcome read, “Students will use the conventions of Standard Edited English (grammar, punctuation, syntax, sentence variety, etc.).”

As a member of the New Curriculum Committee in my department, I had for several years thoroughly enjoyed the work of the committee, feeling very thankful to be part of such a collegial department. We were charged with crafting new learning outcomes for our first-year writing courses, and our process was relatively straight forward: We met and chatted about our values and hopes for student learning, reflected on our current outcomes, and wrote a first draft. Our initial conversations were productive, and we seemed to be aligned in our approach toward revising the outcomes.

Then I received the draft. The outcomes looked beautiful up until I got to the last one that preserved the valuing of “standard” style and grammatical correctness. I had been in multiple meetings where we discussed the importance of rhetorical awareness and in supporting linguistic diversity in our courses. Specifically, not punishing people for their use of English varieties had been an agreed upon virtue and, yet, clear as day, we had an outcome that undermined that very call.

Some may reasonably argue this is not an overt form of racism and clearly the faculty doing this work are not racist nor are they interested in oppressing people. Yet, there staring me in the face was an outcome that was not reasonably achievable unless a student was already steeped in white racial habitus (Inoue Antiracist). Period. The very thought of having to enter into a potentially contentious discussion with people who are not only my colleagues but also my friends sent my anxiety through the roof. I cried alone in my office. I cried at the idea of having to make a case for revising this outcome and why. I cried because I was so tired of being and feeling like the “Brown girl rocking the boat” again. I cried because these were my friends, and I didn’t want to argue with them. I cried because even these thoughtful socially just minded faculty included an outcome that clearly upheld the privilege of the privileged. I cried because had I not been on the committee, this “oversight” would have gone to the department for a vote, and I would have had to have my fight there, without notice, without time to cry.

Here’s the thing—the meeting went amazingly well. Amazingly. All in all, it was decided after only a few minutes of discussion just to omit the outcome and go with the three we had. And although I was completely validated in my trust and belief in my fellow committee members, it is of no small consequence the emotional toll that was set in motion not just because of the committee work, but because of the systems in which we are all a product. With each encounter that takes on raciolinguistic justice there is—and may always be—a risk of confrontation and heated negotiation. And the stakes are always high.

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