With the goal of helping black boys become academically proficient, some liberal and conservative groups have promoted the creation of All-Black Male Schools (ABMS). Keisha Lindsay critically evaluates this unusual alliance, while identifying numerous fallacies behind arguments to establish schools open only to black boys. In a Classroom of Their Own offers abundant evidence that, contrary to the ABMS logic, (1) the educational needs of black girls are also being ignored; (2) black girls are being falsely identified as the cause of black boys failing; and (3) black female teachers are unfairly described as unwilling or unable to effectively teach Black boys.
Both the liberal and the conservative ABMS advocates assume that black girls are doing fine in school, ignoring evidence that black girls also struggle in the K-12 system. In addition, Lindsay cites evidence that just like black boys, black girls are being mis-labeled and placed in special education programs they do not need, are achieving low standardized test scores, and are dropping out of school due to unfair disciplinary treatment including, for example, suspensions for clothing styles said to be “too tight.” Lindsay reports that ABMS supporters frequently assert that young black girls, by their very presence, hinder black boys’ ability to learn. Girls in the classroom are threats to young boys’ masculinity, and therefore, the ABMS logic asserts, the absence of black girls will equate to black boys thriving academically.
In order to justify ignoring girls, ABMS supporters center their arguments around a purported, widespread “boy problem,” in which black boys are falling behind all boys, even as all young men are being shortchanged, forced into school environments dominated by female teachers and the distraction of having female peers.
In addition, advocates for ABMS point to a particular, negative role played by white female teachers, which disadvantages black boys at an intersection of class, race, gender, and sexuality. Supporters of ABMS point to the fear many white female teachers have of black people in general (both male and female) but argue that black boys in the classroom setting are essentially identified as (and feared as) adults. Yet, Lindsay observes that this concern, if valid, should also apply to black girls.
The focus on a “feminization” of the learning space ignores how both black girls and black boys are marginalized in the classroom. Mainstream classroom culture doesn't allow black children to share culturally-appropriate ideas and express popular mannerisms without being judged as confrontational and angry. In fact, black women teachers live at the marginalizing intersection of both gender and race, but individual experiences and training means they may be more sympathetic—or less!—to the educational and psycho-social needs of black girls and black boys. However, proponents of ABMS blithely assert that a female teacher (even a white female) is by definition no disadvantage for black girls, even while she is, by definition, a problem for black boys, because they ignore intersections of race and class that oppress black girls within education.
In the final chapters, Lindsay shows how ABMS supporters also neglect the need for culturally relevant pedagogy because their focus is solely on minimizing and/or eliminating women and girls from the classroom. All curricula should be inclusive, she asserts, to represent all students’ backgrounds, using texts and assignments reflecting all cultures. Instead, supporters of ABMS promote antifeminism through their singular concern with the teacher's gender; instead, they should be concerned about racial unity and cultural competence. As Lindsay suggests, the central question which should be posed to ABMS advocates is this: Are black women unable to teach young black boys? In reality, black women have been the cornerstone of teaching black children for generations. Additionally, Lindsay observes that if black women cannot teach black boys, then: Are black women unable to parent their sons? Thus, unfortunate corollaries of ABMS supporters’ antifeminist rhetoric is the demonization of black mothers, and promotion of the idea that black boys need more masculine role models, if they are to develop their manhood.
Lindsay concludes by wondering: How are these schools defining success amongst young boys? Typically, ABMS proponents define a school's success as the achievement of higher standardized test scores, higher grades, lower dropout rates, and admissions to college, but Lindsay notes that college readiness is missing from these criteria for “success.” In other words, ABMS proponents devote no attention to how many of their college-bound students actually become college graduates.
Finally, Lindsay considers that many studies have been focused on black boys, yielding abundant scholarly research on how to solve the “black boys problem,” yet there has been minimal research on how best to assist black girls in education. As a college professor in an urban community, I am confronted daily with the absence of programs focused on black girls, who face oppression and marginalization at all levels of the American educational system. Just as Lindsay is a black mother successfully raising a son, many other black women, like myself, are their sons’ teachers, protectors, and caregivers, and we care deeply about their futures. Yet, far from being convinced by ABMS supporters’ claims and prescriptions, I am instead inspired by Lindsay's important book to ask this question: How can we meet the educational and social needs of both our black boys and girls?
