How to Learn About Social Justice
‘What will help someone learn about this concept?’
As an educator, this is a question I have long asked myself about the topics I teach. Over the past three years, the answer has become increasingly high-stakes as I have spent ever more time designing sessions about cultural competence, antiracism, and decolonisation –
subjects and skills with much greater implications – in some cases, literally life or death –
than those I had previously covered.
While it is an honour to undertake this work, the truth is that I was asked to do so more
because of my job title than because of academic or experiential expertise with these topics.
As a teacher, I had long grappled with issues associated with accessibility and equality,
diversity, and inclusivity (EDI). However, the area of social justice work into which I was
pivoting required me to think about these issues in a new way – more reflexively,
historically, globally, and systemically.
Before I could address my students’ knowledge deficits, I first had to tackle my own. The
question at the top of the page, then – ‘What will help someone learn about this concept?’ –
is one that I have asked as someone standing at the crossroads between ‘learner’ and
‘teacher’.
Here are a few of my preliminary answers:
1. Exposure to ‘own voices’. Early on, I recognised that I was hearing a lot of second-
hand summaries of other people’s experiences, views, and feelings, but not the
voices of those people themselves. I live and work in fairly demographically
homogeneous spaces, so this is not entirely surprising; however, that is no excuse for
allowing this deficit to persist. One particularly helpful means of combatting this has
been social media – Twitter and Instagram, in particular. There, I have seen videos of
microaggressions; photographs showing the ways in which public transportation is
inaccessible to wheelchair users; threads about why certain movies’ tropes and
representation are problematic; and so much more. I know it is exhausting to
experience these challenges first-hand, let alone to repeat the trauma by recounting
the issues in an interactive public forum. I am immensely grateful for the people who
have shared their experiences and understandings so that folks like me can better
appreciate their lived realities – and work towards positive change.
2. Finding a mentor. Before I delivered my first ‘introduction to decolonisation’ session,
I reached out to a senior colleague with substantial social justice experience and
asked if she would be willing to sense-check my slides. While I hadn’t planned to say
anything wildly misleading or inappropriate, she nevertheless found places where I
could be more rigorous and well-rounded. I was grateful for her guidance and felt
reassured by her support; both made me feel more confident heading into that
initial workshop and others that have followed. I have since had many additional
prompts, steers, and gracious challenges from her and other mentors I have
encountered along the way – some of whom, I should add, include my own students.
In this work more than in any other I have done, I find it essential to stay humble and
realise how much more I have to learn – so I can learn it from whomever is willing
and able to teach. (It is also important to note that I do not feel that anyone owes
me this teaching, and I am careful to ask for permission to engage in this sort of
knowledge exchange.)
3. Joining or creating a community. As an educator working in the social justice space, I
have many different roles; at a bare minimum, I’m an activist, a teacher, a
researcher, a mentor, sometimes even the target of injustices and – if I’m being
brutally honest – probably also occasionally a perpetrator of some. It has been
hugely beneficial to be a part of different groups in which I can explore, and receive
support on, issues associated with each of these roles (and more). Through these
groups, I have had a chance to swap literature and teaching materials; learn about
conferences and workshops; hear what has and has not worked elsewhere; and
collaboratively reflect on successes and barriers to achieving them. Perhaps most
importantly, I have been able to admit when I have made a mistake or am feeling
defeated, encourage others when they are feeling the same, and be a part of a
collective attempt to approach our jobs with more compassion, kindness, and
nurturing. It does not come naturally to me to discuss my feelings openly, or to feel
comfortable knowing how to respond when someone else needs to share the raw
emotions that so often arise in our context. However, this is something I have seen
modelled, and been able to practice, through the social justice groups I have joined –
with the result that I not only feel more whole within myself, but also feel that I am
never truly alone because I am a welcome part of these wider communities.
4. Throwing myself into the work. At the beginning of my social justice journey, I did a
lot of thinking and theorising – but it didn’t take long for me to realise that it would
be hypocritical to teach others about key concepts that I, myself, was not fully
embodying. Each of us has a slightly different context – different levels of privilege
and opportunity, for example – so praxis can take many forms, and I can only speak
for myself. What I have found is that ‘walking the walk’ has been eye-opening,
providing insights well beyond those I achieved when merely ‘talking the talk’ in
classrooms and meetings. There is a huge difference between the somewhat
sanitised reality you encounter in, say, a book chapter or a newspaper article, and
the one you physically experience when, for instance, you attend a rally, provide
pastoral care for victims of harassment, or initiate the process of altering an
entrenched institutional policy. Putting theory into practice has been illuminating in
ways both uplifting and devastating, as it has brought me into direct, real-world
contact with the people, processes, and structures that shape the social justice
landscape in which we work.
Alongside these four ways of learning, I have engaged with additional activities such as
reading, online courses, and reflection. Each of those has also been crucial to expanding my knowledge, but I have found that the methods in the list above increased my understanding (and my awareness of the boundaries of that understanding) more, and more quickly – and gave me a means of linking, testing, or contextualising what I learned from more passive approaches to education.
I note that the activities in my list are all relational and/or embodied; they provide opportunities for visceral, tangible engagement with the stark reality of social justice work.
It is hard not to juxtapose this with the resources I am often asked to create to support my
own learners: glossaries, checklists, how-to guides, case studies, exemplars of antiracist or
decolonial curricula. I do my best to comply because I know how little time – and how much
stress – people have these days, and I want to try to make it as quick and easy as possible
for them to learn and embed these new approaches in their practice.
The problem is, the journey towards social justice is not a quick and easy one; nor is the
route to understanding all the complexities and nuances required to work in this space. In
my heart of hearts, I know that the answer to my question – ‘What will help someone learn
about this concept?’ – is, ultimately, ‘other people’: One or more others willing to explain,
demonstrate, hold accountable, correct, encourage, inspire…the list could go on for pages.
As my predecessors and collaborators have done these things for me, I will pay it forward
(as much as I am able) to those who follow in my footsteps.
For those just starting off, by all means make use of whatever educational resources you can get your hands on – even checklists and how-to guides. But if you truly want to transform your ways of knowing, being, and doing, then I strongly encourage you to reach out to your fellow travellers so you can learn from and alongside those undertaking the same educational journey.
Many thanks to the colleagues and collaborators who have inspired this piece – including, in particular:
Muna Abdi, Susan Bolt, John Bruun, Tim Cole, Eleanor Cook, Ian Cook, Thomas Currie, Jerri
Daboo, Jason Davies, Miranda Garrett, Riadh Ghemmour, Claire Gordon, Letizia Gramaglia,
Layal Hakim, Aveen Hameed, Edward Holberton, Emma Kennedy, Lesley Kinsley, Helen
Knowler, Frances Martin, Shubranshu Mishra, Fatuma Mohamud, Shaun Mudd, Katie
Natanel, Vrinda Nayak, Natalie Ohana, Fatima Pirbhai-Illich, Sebastian Podraza, Musarrat
Maisha Reza, Tom Roland, Nicola Thomas, Tina Verhaeghe, and Digby Warren
Dr Caitlin Kight
Caitlin Kight is a Lecturer in Education Studies in the School of Education at the University of Exeter (UK). She specializes in using reflective practice -- particularly self-study -- to support educators in engaging with social justice issues and pedagogies of liberation. Originally an ecologist studying avian bioacoustics, Caitlin maintains an interest in communication and science outreach; she is a fellow of the Dakshin Foundation and an editor and writer for Current Conservation and CC Kids. Caitlin is author of the book Flamingo and her daily webcomic, Doodlewax, is posted on Twitter and Instagram at @specialagentCK.
