[Written & performed in the spirit of KQED’s Perspectives]
Everything I learned about power-sharing, I learned in San Francisco Bay Area college classrooms.
Growing up, I’d never seen or experienced power done in any other way than how I lived it in my family’s culture: with a father who was the sole authority, and who held and wielded all the power. Who chained the agency of his young children. My father, alone, decided that no one had the power to speak in our family but him. I tried challenging him, twice, and both left a mark.
But in college classrooms in the Bay, professors — humans who seemed like a whole different species to me — invited me to speak, to share the floor. To share their power. Teachers and other learners turned toward me, listened; they saw me. They responded with respect. In those Bay Area college classrooms, I existed for the first time in a world where I was allowed my full range of expression, without fear. It was like magic and it changed everything.
I learned how to do power differently. I learned: how access to accurate information shares power. I learned: how human acknowledgement shares power. I learned: how open processes share power, how listening shares power; how optimism, support, and encouragement share power.
I lived the health and well-being afforded those with the privilege to sit in those democratic classrooms.
Of course, academia isn’t some magic power-sharing place and magical power-sharing classrooms exist beyond the Bay. But, for this Bay Area learner who grew up in an authoritarian family culture, the power-sharing magic in those classrooms happened regularly for me.
I left the East Bay at the end of October 2016 for other worlds. I’m headed home there in November* this year. It’s an old cliché, but there really is no place like…the San Francisco Bay Area.
*Piece written July 2019; home in the East Bay June 9th, 2020.