I often tell people I never thought I'd end up with a passion for education. Sure, I've been semi-obsessed with the idea of an "achievement gap" since I was in high school, but as a native of the Washington, D.C. area, I always thought I'd work in sports or politics. That's what it seemed everyone in D.C. did — and so did I for awhile. But in 2012, I took a position at a higher ed publication, and I've been passionate about education, with a specific focus on issues of access and equity, ever since.
I am continually fascinated by how education ties into every other aspect of society to dictate one's life trajectory, and how education is as much a weapon against certain populations as it is a path to success for others. Words like "equity," "diversity," and "inclusion" have become popular buzzwords in K-12 and higher education circles, but I am passionate about shedding light on the nuances behind the ideas of equity and inclusion, and challenging conventionally held notions about what equity really means for today's students. Believing strongly that historically Black colleges and universities and other minority-serving institutions play a critical role in advancing these goals, I have become a fierce advocate for these storied institutions and a defender of their relevance in an integrated society.
As a storyteller, I draw on my personal background to tell stories that challenge the way we traditionally think about race and class. I have been very vocal about the lenses people to paint different segments of the population. Specifically, I am dedicated to challenging the very frequent portrayal of people color as being inherently poor and underprivileged while their white counterparts are almost universally portrayed as better off. Such broad-stroke narratives are not only inaccurate, but they’re lazy and do a disservice to the storyteller — whose story now lacks depth — the populations portrayed, and those consuming the one-dimensional stories. And they directly contradict my own lived experiences at virtually every point of the narrative.
I pride myself on getting audiences to question what we think we know and presenting perspectives that are not often represented in the stories we most often read. Whether that’s through pushing for the better disaggregation of data to find hidden stories, or through teaching people how to find the data point that works best for them, pairing numbers with narratives has always been a key part of that effort.
When I am not working to change the narrative around students of color in the U.S., you will likely find me decrying the lack of a closer on the Nationals pitching staff, cursing the Philadelphia Eagles management for any number of bad decisions, reveling in the glory days of Laker fandom, chairing my local elementary school's PTO meetings or escaping all of the above on the beach.
I am continually fascinated by how education ties into every other aspect of society to dictate one's life trajectory, and how education is as much a weapon against certain populations as it is a path to success for others. Words like "equity," "diversity," and "inclusion" have become popular buzzwords in K-12 and higher education circles, but I am passionate about shedding light on the nuances behind the ideas of equity and inclusion, and challenging conventionally held notions about what equity really means for today's students. Believing strongly that historically Black colleges and universities and other minority-serving institutions play a critical role in advancing these goals, I have become a fierce advocate for these storied institutions and a defender of their relevance in an integrated society.
As a storyteller, I draw on my personal background to tell stories that challenge the way we traditionally think about race and class. I have been very vocal about the lenses people to paint different segments of the population. Specifically, I am dedicated to challenging the very frequent portrayal of people color as being inherently poor and underprivileged while their white counterparts are almost universally portrayed as better off. Such broad-stroke narratives are not only inaccurate, but they’re lazy and do a disservice to the storyteller — whose story now lacks depth — the populations portrayed, and those consuming the one-dimensional stories. And they directly contradict my own lived experiences at virtually every point of the narrative.
I pride myself on getting audiences to question what we think we know and presenting perspectives that are not often represented in the stories we most often read. Whether that’s through pushing for the better disaggregation of data to find hidden stories, or through teaching people how to find the data point that works best for them, pairing numbers with narratives has always been a key part of that effort.
When I am not working to change the narrative around students of color in the U.S., you will likely find me decrying the lack of a closer on the Nationals pitching staff, cursing the Philadelphia Eagles management for any number of bad decisions, reveling in the glory days of Laker fandom, chairing my local elementary school's PTO meetings or escaping all of the above on the beach.
