There’s something singular and spectacular about morning drop-off at elementary school. Backpacks bigger than the tiny torsos that carry them. Rainboots and pajama pants. Joyful embraces after overnight separation. Threshold goodbyes that are casual and careless, or protracted and painful. It’s messy and magical and precious.
But this year, in D.C., it’s also precarious. Many parents are missing from this morning scene, and others are anxious and distracted. We are living under federal occupation, with unprecedented federal presence in our streets and incursion on our rights, as well as historic rates of migrant detention, all against the wishes of District residents. On any given morning, it is typical for our kids—particularly those in neighborhoods with greater Black and Brown populations-–to see armed federal agents from a handful of different agencies, members of the National Guard from states across the country, and groups of masked ICE agents in unmarked cars. Helicopters circle at low altitudes through much of the day. Our children feel this. They make meaning out of this.
For those who haven’t closely followed the President’s declaration of an “emergency” in D.C., or who aren’t familiar with the racist origins and continuation of D.C.’s lack of autonomy, I wanted to share an update from our capital city, where things have been very difficult for our families and communities these past two months. I wanted to share some details of our reality, both because they affect what our Integrated Schools chapter focuses on and because they may become real for some of you in the future.
This federal incursion has been devastating to our communities, especially in integrating/global majority/non-resource-concentrating schools. ICE and partners are everywhere. To whatever extent local police worked to establish trust within communities in the past, they now collaborate with ICE to profile, stop and detain residents (including U.S. citizens).
Many caregivers feel unsafe leaving their homes at all, or travel only to and from work each day, weighing risk against income. One school’s landscaper was violently detained on the lawn the day before school started. A student nearby was detained after a game of soccer, just before the school year began.
Many of us with racial, economic or legal status privilege now accompany other families’ kids, as young as four years old, to and from school, while those parents have never seen the inside of their children’s classrooms. Some say goodbye each morning knowing that they may not see them that night. Fathers, uncles, cousins, brothers and sons have disappeared, with families struggling to raise money for bail and legal fees. We call hotlines and organize notary clinics, so families can plan for the care of their children if they don’t come home. We struggle to explain these events at the dinner table. Our children feel this. They make meaning out of this.
At the same time, Black and Brown kids across certain parts of the city are facing curfews not supported by evidence and arrests at higher rates for very minor (or no) offenses, prompting parents to return to versions of “the talk” that they thought they had left behind. We have no idea how long this will last. The “emergency” declared by the President expired in mid-September, but it seems the feds will remain indefinitely.
Meanwhile, the House of Representatives continues to advance a slate of bills that would further restrict or eliminate DC autonomy and undo policies set by our elected representatives. One of these will permanently increase public funding for private schools (vouchers) and decrease public funds for public schools. Another will allow courts to try kids as young as 14 as adults, kids whose schools were never equitably resourced, whose neighborhoods were redlined. And D.C.’s lack of statehood or basic control over our own laws and budget mean that our streets and our schools will continue to be at the mercy of others.
The racial dynamics are not surprising. D.C.’s public school kids are mostly Black and Brown. The Members of Congress who push to override our laws are nearly all White. And not a single one has been elected by the people of D.C.
You can guess what it does to communities and to public schools to have representatives from literally everywhere else in this country except your own town decide how you can educate, or how you must incarcerate, your kids. If you live anywhere in the U.S. other than D.C. (or another U.S. territory), your representatives have a say in D.C.’s autonomy, for good or for bad. And while the legalities of D.C.’s status are unique, the targeting of cities for federal incursion is not. These scenes could soon play out near you.
So, as partners in the collective struggle that is our work toward integrated schools, I wanted to share that things are very heavy here. We are carrying the usual complexities of racial and economic privilege into a context of community abductions and martial law. Our questions and doubts and rage and fear evolve in step: Am I succumbing to White saviorism as I walk this sweet brown-skinned girl to school? Does it even matter right now? How is my anti-Black racism affecting how I show up in this moment? How is my body holding joy and gratitude for meaningful integration together with the grief and guilt of privileged proximity? Is it selfish or self-care to practice guitar instead of Spanish?
There are good aspects of this moment, of course, including how well our communities have come together. We find joy; we love each other’s children. But it’s a rough time, and maybe an example that others will want to learn from, in terms of how to resist and survive and learn together.
My ask is that those reading this will reach out to your representatives on a continuing basis. Ask them to focus on the lives of those they were elected to represent, not the people of D.C. Our communities and families are real people, not a testing ground.
Our children feel this. Our children make meaning of this.
And my hope is that those reading this will get a chance, at least once in life, to do morning drop-off at elementary school in a town not affected by events like these. Marvel at tiny torsos and tearful goodbyes. Step into this extraordinary scene and see if your heart doesn’t just explode with the ridiculous beauty of it all.
This is so powerful. Thank you for sharing this. I’m sending you and all the families of DC so much support and solidarity. Thanks for this reminder to do everything we can to speak out against this occupation of D.C., or any city.