‘Risking Some Discomfort’

Conversations about race have become even more heated in the two decades since Beverly Daniel Tatum, president emerita of Spelman College, wrote her groundbreaking book Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? And Other Conversations About Race (Basic Books).

In an updated edition released last month, the clinical psychologist and expert on the psychology of racism further explores students’ tendency to self-segregate, and whether that is a problem or a helpful coping technique. Drawing on demographic change, legal battles, and campus protests, she folds in the past 20 years of controversy, setbacks, and progress in the nation’s efforts to bridge racial divides.

Now working as an author and consultant, Ms. Tatum will direct the Institute on Diversity, Civility, and the Liberal Arts to be held in June by the Council of Independent Colleges. In her book, and in conversation with The Chronicle, she discusses widening school segregation, challenges to affirmative action, and so-called safe spaces. Students naturally seek out peers with similar backgrounds and can find support in those interactions, she says. But stepping out of comfort zones and interacting across racial and ethnic lines is also important, and colleges should create those learning opportunities, she says.

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How has demographic change shifted conversations about race?

I was born in 1954, when the U.S. population was 90 percent white. In 2014, 60 years later, public-school enrollment was 50 percent children of color. In a few years there won’t be a single majority of any group. If you’re white and grew up thinking of yourself as a majority, it must be startling to think about that.

Despite the shifts, we still have segregated schools and neighborhoods. We had been moving toward school desegregation in the ’70s and ’80s, but since then, the progress has largely been reversed. When students come to college, they have had little experience engaging with people whose life experiences are significantly different from their own. Their ideas are often shaped by stereotypes and other distorted information that make it difficult to connect across lines of difference. This can lead to awkward and uncomfortable interactions. Colleges can provide learning experiences that young people may not have had prior to arriving. But the fact that they haven’t had these experiences previously creates challenges.

What other changes do you address in the new edition of your book?

I talk about how over the last 20 years, we’ve seen a backlash against affirmative action, with a number of states, including California and Michigan, outlawing it. We’ve seen enrollments of black and Latinx students decline as a result. Then, in 2008, the collapse of the economy and its disproportionate impact on black and Latinx families further aggravated the issues of income inequality. That has consequences for who has access to education.

I completed my manuscript in early March, so I had the opportunity to write about the events leading up to the November election and the early days of the Trump presidency, which resulted in a dramatic rise in racial harassment — not only physical violence, but also verbal harassment and graffiti. Much of that activity has taken place in educational settings.

One of the negative consequences of much of President Trump’s rhetoric is that it frequently creates an us-versus-them context, like when he talks to a predominantly white audience about protesting black NFL players and refers to “our” values and “our” heritage and “those SOB’s.” When you have powerful people using divisive language, I think others who share those views feel now it’s OK to come out and express them.

What do you make of the controversy in recent years over “safe spaces,” designated areas welcomed by many marginalized students but criticized as divisive by others?

It’s common, particularly at a predominantly white institution, to walk in as a person of color and not see yourself represented in the faculty or the curriculum. One way institutions try to create a sense of belonging is through cultural centers. Students say it’s important to be able to be with people who understand their experiences and just to refuel.

But it’s also important to create opportunities for students to engage across differences. One doesn’t exclude another. In fact, sometimes one facilitates the other. Students who feel strengthened by a “safe space” are more likely to be willing to take the risks needed to enter a “brave space” where crossracial dialogue can happen.

I spoke recently to a student at a campus where there had been a series of anonymous white-supremacist posters. She didn’t know who was putting them up, wondering if it was a classmate, maybe even the person sitting next to her in class. She said, “It’s hard to concentrate on the lecture when I’m thinking about those posters.” White kids might have noticed those posters, but it’s not distracting them the same way. Being able to sit with other black kids who have had similar experiences helps.

On a predominantly white campus, cultural centers also create opportunities for white students to enter spaces where they are not in the majority. When student cultural centers offer programs to the entire campus, white students sometimes say they don’t go because they might feel uncomfortable. But risking some discomfort to engage with students who have invited you in is a unique opportunity that not enough college students take advantage of.

One of the strategies you recommend for breaking down “diversity silos” is intergroup dialogues, which the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor championed and helped spread to other colleges. Why do you think this approach is so effective?

The process brings people together for extended conversation. Typically, students meet in intentionally mixed groups for six to eight weeks or even a semester. You can say things or ask questions in one week, then you can go home and think about it and come back and pick up the conversation. Sometimes institutions will have a one-afternoon experience, maybe as part of orientation. The trouble is that you don’t have the opportunity to push past the initial discomfort and emotions like anger, sadness, or guilt that people often feel when talking about race.

If you stick with it, you can get past that kind of response to really listen and hear where someone is coming from and create empathic connections across lines of difference. There’s an opportunity to reflect on your own experience, but also to learn about somebody else’s.

You talk about how people draw support from having a shared racial identity. But when groups assert the need for white people to connect with their racial heritage, they’re often dismissed as white supremacists. What’s different?

Everyone has a racial identity. When a white person becomes aware of how racism operates in our society and recognizes that being white comes with certain privileges or benefits, it often leads the person to ask, What does this mean for me? One reason many white people resist conversations about race is that talking about it makes them feel bad. So how can we have that conversation in ways that make people feel they can take action, that they can feel good about being white, not in the sense of “white pride” based on feelings of white superiority, but in a commitment to social justice? For one thing, they can recognize a long tradition among white people of being allies, of speaking up for justice and social change.

This generation of young people grew up at a time when they heard many adults saying we were in a postracial America. The police shootings we’ve seen on cellphone video have captured the attention of many people across the nation of varying racial backgrounds. For a lot of people, the notion that we’re living in a postracial society has been put to rest in the aftermath of those shootings.

When you were in high school, was the cafeteria seating you highlight in your title an issue for you?

I went to a high school in Bridgewater, Mass., where there were literally not enough black kids to fill a table. In some ways, growing up in that small town was a privileged experience. I was a very successful student, and everyone knew my dad, who was the first African-American professor at Bridgewater State College (now Bridgewater State University). Even so, I experienced a certain amount of social isolation as a teenager and definitely wanted to be in a more diverse environment.

When I went to Wesleyan, I was thrilled to be able to connect with other black and Latinx students, and we did sit together. But while other groups might feel left out, it’s not like we were spending our time talking about them. As young people who were exploring our identities, we were affirming and supporting each other. I was certainly enjoying being part of a larger community of color.

What do you hope people will take away from your book?

My goal in 1997 was to help people understand what racism is, how it impacts how we feel about ourselves and other people, and ultimately what we can do about it. Twenty years later, that is still my goal, but I have tried to put it in the context of the 21st century. I still end with the notion that change is possible, and each of us has an opportunity to exercise leadership to make that change.

Can you describe an example of that?

In the spring of 2016 at Texas A&M, a small group of students approached a group of visiting black high-school students, using racial slurs and telling them they weren’t welcome, and that they should “go back where they came from.” One of the things that impressed me afterward was a YouTube video made by the Student Government Association president, a young white man named Joseph Benigno. He spoke — it seemed to me from the heart — about how he had heard language like that behind closed doors and hadn’t spoken up or challenged people. He said he realized that his silence contributed to a climate that made people feel this was acceptable, and he invited his classmates to join him in being more active in interrupting the racism of others. I thought that was a very courageous statement, and his example of leadership gave me a sense of hope.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Katherine Mangan writes about community colleges, completion efforts, and job training, as well as other topics in daily news. Follow her on Twitter @KatherineMangan, or email her at katherine.mangan@chronicle.com.