To the Editor:
The headline, “Shattering the Myth of Meritocracy,” that you tweeted in December 2018 caught my eye, and I immediately clicked the link to the online-only article. It was evident early on that the author would use the storyline from Disney’s The Princess and the Frog to make a point, and that the principal character’s struggle to overcome odds and challenges to achieve success as a black female would be paralleled with the need for independent schools to dismantle inequitable systems and recognize the fallacy that success is only attainable through the hard work and dedication of the deserving.I stopped reading after the second paragraph—the instant I realized the first two times her name appeared were not typos. I began to scan the rest of the document. I wanted to see exactly how many times her name was wrong. Nine. Her name was wrong nine times throughout the entire article—every single mention. And in each instance, it was spelled the exact same: Tatiana.
Wow. How utterly insulting, I thought with disgust as I replied to the tweet to make you aware of the problem and to articulate the feelings I was experiencing in that moment. I wanted to call attention to the irony of it all. It was a notion that was—from my personal experience and perspective—typical. How often do we have to call out this kind of oblivious carelessness?
Within a matter of minutes, the article was corrected, and you replied to each of my reply tweets with an identical boilerplate statement: “We apologize for the error and have corrected the article online.” Error? This was no error. This was no accident. This was negligence, gross and offensive.
There is much to be unpacked when a self-described “middle-class, white mom teaching at a private boarding school in an affluent town,” attempts to position and expose herself as an advocate for marginalized populations and stops short of learning the actual name of the black female whose story she co-opted. In a matter of a few haphazard keyboard strokes, this character, a widely acclaimed Disney princess, the first black princess in 72 years of Disney princess history, the one who—to the author’s delight—“had become [her] child’s favorite,” whose given name is notably ethnic, was on the receiving end of a common microaggression people of color face: the whitewashed misnomer. And it all played out within an article about the myth of meritocracy, published by an entity that promotes equity, social justice, and restoration, circulated mere days after the culmination of the annual NAIS People of Color Conference. Is it safe to posit that there is a blurred line between meritocracy and mediocrity when you have all the qualifiers to benefit from what it means to be white?
I question why it took you sheer minutes to correct what may affect your public image, but so much longer to take a step toward the restorative practices you endorse, to respond to my request to discuss the implications of an oversight that should have never made it to press. Correcting the error does not negate the impact. This all makes me wonder, it is a common institutional practice to use microaggressive slights as a means to usher concerns of marginalization to the proverbial back entrance?
When work to dismantle oppressive systems is genuine, humility is embedded in every approach and includes the voices of and input from those impacted. If NAIS—as an institution and the individual decision makers within it—believes that decisions can be made about marginalized people without them, that mentality is a supremacist point of view, planted, sown, harvested, and distributed straight from the plantation. You do not get to decide how anyone receives, interprets, or feels about your messaging. You can, however, choose how you respond—which should always include acknowledgment and ownership of your actions, reflection, and a perpetual solution.
As far as next steps, I do not know what NAIS will do. I do know that I would have reached out immediately to the person who questioned us. I would have validated her concerns, provided a timeline of our investigation to uncover the cause of the error, assured follow-up correspondence, and extended an open invitation and point of contact for clarity, questions, and concerns. Then I would conduct a review of our editorial protocols and revise them as necessary by scrutinizing the process for vetting and editing submissions, determining systems of checks and balances that consider the potential impact of articles, and examining whether the process includes representation of people from varying backgrounds and experiences. Most important, I would continue the conversation with those directly affected and humbly share my action plan. And as an added measure of good faith, I would make this plan publicly accessible.
I am passionate about issues of equity and justice for marginalized people, especially in independent schools, where I believe systems of accountability are a work in progress. And I am convinced that you hope I will give up and that what you may perceive as a non-issue will die down. Nope. If you talk it, walk it. NAIS, you do not get a pass. Your equity and justice campaign looks good on paper, though.
Oh, and by the way, her name is Tiana. Princess Tiana.
Anthea Lavergne
Cambridge, Massachusetts
The writer is a special education teacher at Cambridge Public Schools and adjunct faculty at Lesley University; she was educated in and has served as a teacher and administrator in independent schools.
Note from the Editor:
I am grateful for this letter and for the conversations I have had with the author since she submitted it. And I am truly and deeply sorry that our editorial mistake, the result of a lapse in our fact-checking process, contributed to a pattern of microaggressions people of color routinely experience.As members of the independent school community, we must all be open to hearing how our actions affect each other. This requires truly listening—particularly when we mess up. We must look deeply at intent and impact and be open to changing our behavior.
In one of the tweets she references in her letter, author Anthea Lavergne asked us whether we were living our principles of good practice. We take that question very seriously. NAIS strives to help schools have critical conversations, address systemic problems, and effect change. We strive to do this work internally too.
As a community, we must get comfortable being uncomfortable as we examine what it means to be independent, equitable, and inclusive. We must––and will––do better.
Andi Gabrick
Editorial Director