We see, but do we learn? We learn, but do we act?
In March of 1991, at the age of 13, my life changed. I watched footage of police violence so staggeringly brutal that I had a million questions and no answers. My father tried to explain the histories of racism and violence, but there was no making sense of what happened to Rodney King; how could anyone continue the assault after he had gone completely limp? The world saw with graphic clarity what oppressed communities had known and rightly complained about for decades. I would never have believed it, but then I saw it.
My younger students cannot imagine a world without cellphones to record so much of what happens. Footage of brutality surfaces on a near daily occurrence, but 30 years since my wake-up call I see that we have watched and done nothing. We learn, but do we act?
As an educator one of the critical examinations I am most committed to is responding to misinformation, since much of it is intended to teach exactly the wrong lessons and prompt harmful acts. I find that case studies help to make the points emerge with a deeper authenticity for many students. Statistics are important; true stories make the numbers come alive.
Sometimes, however, the stories are about stories. Observable facts can become cautionary tales. We see, but do we learn?
For example, in Rwanda, in April 1994, journalists risked their lives to get footage of the genocide to Tutsis that was taking place; they believed that if the world saw what was happening they would be forced to act, but they were wrong. The world has been trying to learn from that story ever since, but we still grapple ineffectively with the plight of Rohingyas and Uighurs, two populations who are the Tutsis of our time. We still see, but are we learning?