Anjalique Abernathy on Identity and Belonging in Educational Spaces
“Educators of color are windows and mirrors,” Anjalique Abernathy says from her end of the Google Meet call.
It’s nine o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday, and yet she’s full of energy, speaking with an open, inviting demeanor and so much personality one can’t help but return the winning smile on her face.
“We reflect what your current realities are…your histories, your passions…but we are also windows that show the possibilities, the realities and experiences that are different. Our world is better with diversity, and that is what we represent.”
They speak from experience. A native of eastern North Carolina, they have occupied a variety of spaces in the realm of education over the past few years. Anjalique, who identifies as Black, queer, non-binary, and someone with a passion for teaching, has found a role that celebrates all of these identities. They work as the Education & Curriculum Lead for the Pauli Murray Center for History and Social Justice in Durham, North Carolina, which is in itself a celebration of a Black, queer, non-gender conforming person and a dedication to teaching about their life and legacy.
This was not Anjalique’s first position in education, however. Her story goes much further back.
Chapter I: Anjalique On the Come-Up
Unlike many other students, Anjalique experienced an abundance of educators of color growing up.
“For my K-10 experience, I was in Fayetteville and Raeford North Carolina, which are majority minority areas,” they recount with a fond smile, voice tinged with nostalgia. “A lot of my teachers were Black women and femmes…so I always felt seen. I always felt validated.”
She recalls with laughter her time with her fourth-grade math teacher, who delivered encouragement to her in a small-town, “old Black teacher” fashion (if you know, you know). However, when she transitioned to a boarding school for her last two years of high school, her experience changed.
“When I stopped seeing educators that looked like me and had similar experiences, that then became difficult,” she states. “I was no longer getting the affirmation that I needed."
It was these experiences, as well as a summer program they attended while in college at Tufts University, that established their calling to become an educator.
“I could actually teach and talk about the things I care about, the things that were not put to the forefront in my own educational experiences,” they explain. “Those hidden histories, those histories that our educators didn’t know about in order to teach us.”
The program included discussions with students about various social issues, such as gun violence and racial identity, and encouraged students to actively participate and share their thoughts. For Anjalique, this experience radically changed and shaped the way she viewed teaching.
“It was an opportunity to see what students are able to come up with when they’re given permission and the critical ways they are able to think when the adult in the room tells them, ‘hey, your thoughts are valid. We can think about this together in a new way. It doesn’t have to be how I’m presenting it to you.’ That was the context through which I decided to become a teacher.”
Chapter II: The Problem With the Classroom
All in all, Anjalique’s start appeared to be a solid one. But as the discussion shifts to their experience in a real classroom, there comes with it a shift in tone. When asked what issues they feel educators of color are facing today, their response is a resounding “whew!”
“There’s a lot of ‘we want you here,’ but ‘we don’t really want you here’,” she says, exchanging a knowing look with me. Her usual smile has dimmed a little, no longer joyful but reflective of a dry humor, an acknowledgment of irony. “Like, we want you in this space so we can meet our diversity quota. We want you in this space because we accept that you, to us, are exceptional. But we don’t actually want you to talk about your lived experiences or realities, or to advocate for what you need once you get into these spaces.”
They recall being lauded for their background in Africana Studies and the many college accolades they’d received regarding civil engagement and advocacy, only to be totally disregarded upon gaining access to certain spaces: feeling as if those in higher positions did not know what to do with them, ignored when they attempted to advocate for other educators of color, dissuaded from sharing their personal life, silenced when students began to respond on a deeper level to discussions of real-world issues.
For Anjalique, these issues grew especially prominent when she became a history teacher at a private k-12 school in Charlotte. Brought in as a diversity fellow, she became the first Black woman in the school’s fifty-year history to teach a core subject course. Her Blackness, however, was not the only part of her identity she felt was disregarded. She remembers how students would confide to her about their struggles with identifying as LGBTQ+, something she could provide guidance and comfort on given her own experience as a queer individual. This, however, did not go over well with officials at her school.
“My third year teaching…I was told by the interim DEI lead…a black femme…that it was not okay for me to share the realities of me being a queer person with my students,” they utter somberly as if reliving the ache of such stinging words all over again. “I did not feel supported by the small amount of folks who looked like me, and that’s what pushed me out of the classroom. I felt that my Blackness was okay, but my queerness was not. And I wasn’t comfortable with that. I wasn’t okay with that.”
Chapter III: Moving Forward
Disillusioned by her experience in the classroom, Anjalique sought a new space that would allow her to do what she loved without fear of being silenced. As luck would have it, the Pauli Murray Center for History and Social Justice had an open position, which she applied for and received.
“I left the classroom, and I was explicit with my students about why I was leaving,” they stated with conviction. “We had the conversations.”
Now, Anjalique is responsible for stewarding the childhood home of the Reverend Doctor Pauli Murray in Durham. She and the rest of the team teach about the history of Pauli Murray, Durham and its Black communities, and activism in the area. As the Education & Curriculum Lead, Anjalique explores what it means to teach history with an eye toward how it can change our future, which she does through curriculum work and engaging students who visit the site.
“It’s a beautiful thing for me, coming out of a space where I was asked to tone it down, and now I’m explicitly being asked to bump it up—like, rev it up!” Anjalique tells us with a smile. “You don’t have to use coded language anymore, you don’t have to tone things down.”
The Pauli Murray Center in Durham, North Carolina.
Epilogue
Now with a year and a half of experience at the Pauli Murray Center under her belt, Anjalique is doing her part to further empower other educators.
This year, they are launching their inaugural teaching fellowship in collaboration with Carolina K-12: The Pauli Murray Social Justice Teaching Fellowship. The program will allow eight fellows to learn the histories of Pauli Murray and their family, as well as other communities of activism in Durham. Participants will have the opportunity to engage in collaborative study and experiential learning, apply new tools to classroom teaching, and develop resources for educators over the course of six months.
Anjalique describes the program with passion and excitement that’s hard to miss. “This teaching fellowship is my baby, it’s my love,” she enthuses. “It’s a labor of love for community, and for understanding that history is truly, truly truly truly one of the best ways that we can think about and envision a collective future.”
Applications for the inaugural cohort are due by Wednesday, October 4th. For more information and to apply, see the website here.
In the meantime, Anjalique ends the conversation with some valuable guidance for educators of color.
“Stay true to yourself and who you are. Remaining authentic to yourself and accepting who you are will bring your people,” she advises. “And enjoy the journey. You learn so much about yourself in the experience of teaching because just as much as we are windows and mirrors to others, they are that for us as well. I got to embrace my youthful exuberance in teaching. I got to be validated in my love for anime and horseback riding that as a kid I got made fun of for. Teaching is truly a freeing experience.”
CREED would like to thank Anjalique for taking the time to speak with us, and for being the very first participant in our Diversify the Narrative campaign! Stay tuned for more stories from educators of color like Anjalique from across North Carolina.
Are you an educator of color interested in having your story told? Click HERE for more information about Diversify the Narrative.
Want to get connected with fellow educators of color throughout North Carolina? Join the #TeachinginColor Community today! We are a professional learning network of educators dedicated to building community, supporting, and advocating for policy changes. Join HERE.
