Afrocentric Education:

What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?

by
Patrick Radebe
M.Ed., University of Toronto, 2005
B.A. (Hons.), University of Toronto, 2000

A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE

REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

in
THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES
(Educational Studies)

THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA

(Vancouver)

October 2017

 Patrick Radebe, 2017

Abstract

The miseducation of Black students attending Toronto metropolitan secondary schools, as

evinced by poor grades and high dropout rates among the highest in Canada, begs the
question of whether responsibility for this phenomenon lies with a public school system
informed by a Eurocentric ethos. Drawing on Afrocentric Theory, this critical qualitative
study examines Black parents’ perceptions of the Toronto Africentric Alternative School and
Afrocentric education. Snowball sampling and ethnographic interviews, i.e., semi-structured
interviews, were used to generate data. A total of 12 Black parents, three men and nine
women, were interviewed over a 5-month period and data analyzed. It was found that while
a majority of the respondents supported the Toronto Africentric Alternative School and
Afrocentric education, some were ambivalent and others viewed the school and the education
it provides as divisive and unnecessary.

The research findings show that the majority of the participants were enamored with
Afrocentricity, believing it to be a positive influence on Black lives. While they supported
TAAS and AE, the minority, on the other hand, opposed the school and its educational
model. The findings also revealed a Black community, divided between a majority seeking
to preserve whatever remained of (their) African identity and a determined minority that
viewed assimilation to be in the best interests of Black students.

It is recommended that the school adopt antiracist education; that it appoints a spokesperson
to field public inquiries to counter adverse perceptions of the school and its programs; that it
fosters an on-going dialogue between its supporters and critics; and, most importantly, that it
takes steps aimed at rebuilding relations among the stakeholders, i.e., the school, Black
parents, the Toronto District School Board and the community.

ii
Lay Summary

The view that mainstream Canadian and multicultural education is superior vis-à-vis colonial
education, and in particular far more in inclusive in its orientation, has been challenged by
Toronto’s Black parents, community activists, and Afrocentric scholars, who blame the
former, in part, for the underachievement of Black students. This study examined how these
parents perceive the Toronto Africentric Alternative School and Afrocentric education. It
investigated, among other things, whether the latter could remedy the underperformance of
Black students, as revealed in high dropout rates. In addition, it explored what role, if any, an
African-centred education might play in addressing a crisis: the growing achievement gap in
the public education system between White and Black students.

iii
Preface

This dissertation is original, unpublished, independent work by Patrick Radebe. This study
was approved by the UBC Behavioural Research Ethics Board on April 12, 2013. The ethics
certificate is H13-00251.

iv
Table of Contents

Abstract ............................................................................................................................... ii 

Lay Summary ..................................................................................................................... iii 
Preface................................................................................................................................ iv 
Table of Contents .................................................................................................................v 
List of Tables ..................................................................................................................... ix 
List of Acronyms .................................................................................................................x 
Acknowledgements ............................................................................................................ xi 
Dedication ........................................................................................................................ xiii 
Epigraph ........................................................................................................................... xiv 

Chapter 1.  Introduction .................................................................................................1 

1.1.  The Researcher’s Positionality and Dilemmas .....................................1 
1.2.  Problem Statement ...............................................................................5 
1.3.  Statement of Purpose ............................................................................9 
1.4.  Research Objectives ...........................................................................10 
1.5.  Significance of the Study ...................................................................10 
1.6.  Organization of the Dissertation.........................................................11 

Chapter 2.  Literature Review ......................................................................................14 

2.1.  The Historical and Contemporary Education of Blacks .....................14 
2.2.  Colonial and Eurocentric Education in the Context of
Black Education .................................................................................15 
2.3.  The School Curriculum as an Ideological Text ..................................25 
2.4.  Black Canadian Education: A Historical Overview ...........................31 
2.5.  Segregated Schools: Keeping Black Canadians “Uneducated” .........33 
2.6.  The Separate School Act (1850) and Segregated Education ..............35 
2.7.  Multicultural Education: What Is It? ..................................................38 
2.8.  Multicultural Education in Practice:
White Teachers and Black Students’ Alienation ................................41 
2.9.  Black Students and Streaming ............................................................47 
2.10.  The School Curriculum and Eurocentric Knowledge ........................50 
2.11.  Multicultural Curriculum: Whose History Passes for Knowledge? ...52 
2.12.  Multicultural Education and Racist Representations .........................55 
2.13.  Black Students' Underperformance:
Looking Beyond the Public School System .......................................58 
2.14.  Conclusion ..........................................................................................60 

v
Chapter 3.  Afrocentric Theory: A Discursive Framework.......................................62 
3.1.  A Working Definition of Afrocentric Theory ....................................63 
3.2.  Du Bois, The “Concept of Race”:
White Power and Separate Education ................................................64 
3.3.  Du Bois, Separate Schools and Education: The History ....................68 
3.4.  Black Education: The Challenges ......................................................70 
3.5.  Marcus Garvey: The Relationship Between
Continental and Diasporic African Black as One People...................71 
3.6.  Kwame Nkrumah and Pan-Africanism ..............................................78 
3.7.  Afrocentric Theory:
The Civil Rights and Post-Civil Rights Period ..................................83 
3.8.  Afrocentric Theory: The Criticisms ...................................................87 
3.9.  Afrocentric Education:
What Does It Mean and Why Is It Necessary? ..................................95 
3.10.  Afrocentricity and Afrocentric Education in the Context of
Canadian Public Education ..............................................................103 
3.11.  Criticism of Dei and Afrocentric Education in Canada ...................106 
3.12.  The Toronto Africentric Alternative School: An Overview ............109 
3.13.  The Afrocentric Curriculum: An Overview .....................................111 
3.14.  The Toronto Africentric Alternative School:
Staff and Governance .......................................................................112 
3.15.  Conclusion ........................................................................................113 

Chapter 4.  Research Methodology ............................................................................115 

4.1.  Research Paradigm: An Overview ...................................................115 
4.2.  The Researcher’s Paradigm ..............................................................116 
4.3.  Qualitative Methodologies: An Overview .......................................120 
4.4.  Critical Ethnography: An Overview.................................................122 
4.5.  Critical Ethnographic Research:
Problematizing Power and Oppression ............................................122 
4.6.  Research Methods ............................................................................124 
4.6.1.  Data Collection ...................................................................124 
4.6.2.  Participant Recruitment and Selection ................................125 
4.7.  In-Depth/Semi-Structured Interview ................................................127 
4.8.  The Participants ................................................................................130 
4.8.1.  Abena (Project Manager) ....................................................130 
4.8.2.  Amma (Creative Artist–Educator) ......................................130 
4.8.3.  Ananse (Food Justice Manager)..........................................131 
4.8.4.  Goddess (Educator) .............................................................132 
4.8.5.  Jennifer (Teacher–Curriculum Consultant) ........................133 
4.8.6.  Kombozi (Mortgage Broker) ..............................................133 

vi
 4.8.7.  Mary (Social Worker) .........................................................134 
4.8.8.  Ouzy (Senior Manager–Banker) .........................................134 
4.8.9.  Rolonda (Social Services Worker)......................................135 
4.8.10.  Shaka (Office Manager)......................................................136 
4.8.11.  Titina Silla (Lawyer–Student).............................................136 
4.8.12.  Zindzi (Nurse) .....................................................................137 
4.9.  Researcher’s Assessment of Interviews and His Experience with
Participants .......................................................................................138 
4.10.  Data Analysis and Interpretation ......................................................138 
4.11.  Research Trustworthiness, Validity and Reliability .........................140 
4.12.  The Emic/Etic Split ..........................................................................142 
4.13.  Researcher Reflexivity .....................................................................144 
4.14.  Conclusion ........................................................................................145 

Chapter 5.  Afrocentric Education, Racism, Afrocentricity and Identity:

The Contestations ....................................................................................147 
5.1.  Black Parents and Afrocentric Education ........................................147 
5.2.  The Perennial Presence of Racism in the Educational System ........147 
5.3.  Afrocentricity: Conceptual Interpretations .......................................152 
5.4.  Afrocentric Education: A Contested Concept ..................................154 
5.5.  The Toronto Alternative Afrocentric School as Viewed by
Critics and Supporters ......................................................................163 
5.6.  Identity Politics and African-Canadians...........................................174 
5.7.  Race as a Social Construct ...............................................................178 

Chapter 6.  Afrocentric School and Afrocentric Education:

The Possibilities and Challenges ............................................................186 
6.1.  The Toronto Africentric Alternative School and the
(Mis)Education of Black Students ...................................................186 
6.2.  Black Teachers: The Foundation of Afrocentric Education .............196 
6.3.  Black Parents as Educators...............................................................203 
6.4.  Afrocentric Education: Instilling the Community’s Spirit in the
African Child ....................................................................................206 
6.5.  Inclusive Curriculum: Making Education Relevant to the
African Child ....................................................................................209 
6.6.  Afrocentric Education: The Optimisms and Possibilities ................212 
6.7.  Afrocentric School and Afrocentric Education: The Challenges .....215 
6.8.  TDSB Authority Over TAAS ...........................................................215 
6.9.  Teacher Training, Professional Development and
Budget Constraints ...........................................................................217 
6.10.  TAAS and AE Through the Lens of the Mainstream Media ...........220 
6.11.  The Black Community’s Negative Perception of TAAS and AE ....224 
6.12.  Black Parents’ Cavalier Attitude Towards Education ......................227 

vii
Chapter 7.  Conclusion: Implications and Recommendations for the Toronto
Africentric Alternative School and Afrocentric Education .................234 
7.1.  Overview/Findings ...........................................................................235 
7.2.  Conclusion ........................................................................................236 
7.2.1.  Research Implications .........................................................239 
7.2.2.  Research Limitations ..........................................................243 
7.3.  Recommendations ............................................................................243 
7.3.1.  The Toronto Africentric Alternative School:
The Need for Greater Transparency ...................................244 
7.3.2.  Tension Between TAAS and Black Parents:
Healing Old Wounds...........................................................245 
7.3.3.  Bridging TDSB-Black Parent Relationship Using
Dialogue and Complementarity ..........................................246 

References .......................................................................................................................249

Appendix A. Semi-Structured Interview Protocol: Individual Interview ...............267 

Appendix B. Semi-Structured Interview Protocol: Focus Group ............................268 
Appendix C. Advertisement to Recruit Research Participants ................................269 
Appendix D. Initial Contact Letter .............................................................................270 
Appendix E. Subject Consent Form ............................................................................271 
 

viii
List of Tables

Table 4.1.  Profiles of Participants .............................................................................129 

ix
List of Acronyms

AE Afrocentric Education
AT Afrocentric Theory
BHM Black History Month
BREB Behavioural Research and Ethics Board
ME Multicultural Education
RCOL Royal Commission on Learning
TAAS Toronto Africentric Alternative School
WCC Winston Churchill Collegiate

x
Acknowledgements

I wish to acknowledge all those at the University of British Columbia who have made
my academic sojourn here a most enjoyable one. It was from all of you that I drew the
strength to navigate what has proven to be an academic and life journey of the richest
description.

I owe special thanks to Drs. Handel Kashope Wright, Samson Madera Nashon and
Shauna Butterwick for giving of their time so generously to serve on my dissertation
committee. Thank you Dr. Wright for providing the support and guidance without which this
dissertation would never have seen the light of day. And many thanks to Dr. Nashon for all
the knowledge, wisdom and fatherly encouragement provided unstintingly. You enabled me
to hold steady when I was assailed by doubt. Thank you Dr. Butterwick for teaching me so
much. A most remarkable scholar, you encouraged me to persevere with timely and copious
inspiration. As I join the ‘club of newly-minted scholars,’ I do so with humility and
confidence knowing that I was taught and supervised by the finest team of scholars one could
ever ask for.

I wish to thank Rebecca for her steadfast support during the entire writing process.
This project would not have come to fruition without her crucial contributions. Thanks also
to Ikaya for leavening this project with humour, particularly at a time when my spirits were
waning.

I also wish to thank Drs. Bathseba Opini, Jeannie Kerr, Carrie Hunter, Shayna Plaut,
Alannah Young, Andree Gacoin, and Amy Parent, in addition to Gloria Lin, and Joyce
Schneider for their compassion and magnanimity. Shermila Salgadoe, Christine Adams,
Roweena Bacchus, Jeannie Young, and Gail Gudmundson of Department of Educational
Studies (EDST) warrant my heartfelt gratitude for their unstinting help, proffered always
with a smile even when my goodwill account was exhausted. And thanks to Larry Sharp for
poring over drafts and providing feedback.

xi
 I am greatly indebted to the research participants, i.e., the parents of school children
who took time from busy schedules to share their views on the Toronto Africentric
Alternative School (TAAS) and Afrocentric Education (AE). Their rich insights impelled me
to think beyond the scope of the classroom, of conventional theory and of my many personal
biases.

Lastly, I wish to thank my mother and late grandmother, women-philosophers who

taught me one of life’s great lessons: that humility, respect, hard work, and patience are the
keys to success. It was they who cultivated within me both a spirit of humility, which in
Western cultures is often mistaken for timidity, and an appreciation of the wisdom of elders.
Their counsel has served me well.

xii
Dedication

I wish to dedicate this study to Toronto’s Black students.

It is my profound hope that in times of trouble,
they will draw strength from an old African proverb:
“Those who drink from the fount of knowledge never cry thirst.”

xiii
Epigraph

The history of Africa, as presented by European scholars, has been

encumbered with malicious myths. It was even denied that we were a
historical people. It was said that whereas other continents had shaped history
and determined its course, Africa had stood still, held by inertia; that Africa
was only propelled into history by European contact.
~ Kwame Nkrumah

Separate Negro school[s], where children are treated like human beings,
trained by teachers of their own race, who know what it means to be Black in
the year of salvation 1935, is infinitely better than making our boys and girls
doormats to be spit on and trampled upon and lied to by ignorant social
climbers, whose sole claim of superiority is ability to kick “niggers” when
they are down.
~ W.E.B Du Bois

In a banking concept of education, knowledge is a gift bestowed by those who

considered themselves upon those whom they consider to know nothing.
Projecting an absolute ignorance onto others, a characteristic of the ideology
of oppression, negates education and knowledge as process of inquiry. The
students, alienated . . . accept their ignorance . . . but unlike the [Hegelian]
slave, they never discover that they educate the teacher.
~ Paulo Freire

xiv
Chapter 1.

Introduction

1.1. The Researcher’s Positionality and Dilemmas

The underperformance of African-Canadian students in the Toronto public education

system represents a major concern for Black parents, educators, social justice activists and
community leaders. It also underscores both the failure of the Eurocentric and multicultural
models of education to address the intellectual needs of Black students and lack of political
will on the part of politicians and policymakers to solve one of the most persistent problems
plaguing the public school system. Hailed as a corrective for Black academic under-
achievement, the Toronto Africentric Alternative School (TAAS) was officially opened in
September 2009. The enthusiasm that greeted the new school was tempered, however, by an
equal measure of cynicism. This study investigates how Black parents perceive TAAS and
Afrocentric education (AE) 7 years after the school opened its doors.

According to Banks (1998), researchers are agents with “minds” and “hearts” (p. 4)
of their own which they bring into research, a view that has been articulated in some detail by
Reviere (2001). Conducting a study in a community of which I am a part and in which I have
a vested interest makes it both a personal and political project. Thus, I readily confess to
being no objective observer of the oppression that weighs down the Black community; I wear
no “veil of neutrality” (Fine, 1994, p. 73), nor do I hide “behind the shield of scientific
objectivity” (Reviere, 2001, p. 714) thereby assuming “a privileged non-position” (Pillow,
2003, p. 178) on TAAS and AE, both considered sensitive and divisive. As an Afrocentric
scholar, I subscribe to the view that Blackness is a continuum that extends beyond the
African continent to the (African) diaspora. It is also a transnational and Pan-African
concept, made meaningful by past and present struggles. I believe, like Afrocentric scholars
before me and those who may come after, that an African-oriented study such as this one can
contribute to highlighting Black worldview(s) and to disrupting dominant discourses that

1
presume to speak for Africans without bothering to consult them. I am of the view that it is
only through solidarity with the Trans-Atlantic African family that we, as a collective, can
define who we are as a people and articulate our experience and our hopes and dreams, in
ways that genuinely reflect the long struggle to throw off the yoke of White supremacy. I am
a critical researcher and as Denzin (1994) asserts, conducting critical research requires the
researcher to “reveal reflexively [the] structures of oppression as they operate in the worlds
of [the] lived experience [of the oppressed]” (p. 509).

As a Canadian of African descent, I bring to this work a set of assumptions that

informs my choice of research questions, of the research tradition and theoretical framework
I employ, of the method for collecting and interpreting data, and of the data itself
(Carspecken, 1996; Hawkins, 2010; McCorkel & Myers, 2003; Reviere, 2001). One of these
assumptions, indeed the principal one, is that ME, despite its modest contribution to
facilitating inclusive education, of which the hallmark is equal representation of minorities in
the curriculum, does not go far enough in educating Black children and hence is detrimental
to their future prospects. This is borne out by the very real fear on the part of Black parents
that their children might soon join the ranks of those labelled “dropouts” or “at-risk”—
signifiers that underscore the struggles Black children undergo in the mainstream public
education system. If it is to be relevant, ME must move beyond mere tokenism, as evinced by
the symbolic infusion of Black history in the curriculum.

In addition to interrogating my personal assumptions, I grapple with what often seem

to be intractable questions. How to conduct a study that is rigorous and fairly represents the
data and thus avoid being viewed as a mouthpiece for disgruntled Black parents? How to
pre-empt critics from taking the findings out of context and using them to indict both TAAS
and AE? In critiquing TAAS and AE, might I be implicated in defending ME, an educational
model held by critics to be dismissive of the Black Canadian contribution to Canada? Will
my findings be perceived as inimical to the interests of Black students, their parents and the
community at large?

2
 Weis and Fine (2000) assert that when “looking for great stories, [researchers
sometimes] walk into the field with constructions of the ‘other’ [in ways that] feed [into] the
politics of representation [that creates] . . . [a] negative configuration” (pp. 48-49).
Conducting a study on an issue the public considers divisive is fraught with risk (Weis &
Fine, 2000); I am torn between criticizing a school whose goals and educational model I fully
support and concealing “dirty laundry” (Weis & Fine, 2000, p. 89), which, if revealed, would
tarnish the school’s reputation, further undermining the confidence of stakeholders—parents,
students, community activists and leaders, teachers and academics—who have fought so long
and hard to bring the school to fruition.

My perception of public education has been shaped by my personal identity, my

experience in a country whose dominant White majority dictates norms and values, my
African culture, which teaches communalism and holds in reverence the injunction to be thy
neighbour’s keeper, and by Toronto's Black neighbourhoods where the majority of
marginalized Black students live and attend school.

My interest in how Black parents perceive TAAS and AE was born of my experience
as a former student in the Toronto public school system. At the time I suspected that my
classroom contributions, such as they were, were less than welcome. My homeroom teacher,
for example, would occasionally reframe my questions in ways that altered their intent,
making me feel unappreciated. Consequently, I stopped asking questions about subject
content and instead began questioning the teacher’s motives. Apart from being left out of
class activities, I and other racialized students formed the distinct impression that the teachers
were condescending in their treatment of visible minority students. I can only assume this to
be the reason some of my classmates left school to work at menial jobs. Not only did I come
to view the school environment as a locus of oppression; the fear of inadvertently revealing
to the school authorities my state of mind and thus incurring their wrath, led me to internalize
my oppression and masking my displeasure with a smile. And despite the best efforts on my
part and that of the other visible minority students to conceal our discomfort, the school
authorities seemed to sense it and responded by relegating us to the status of very young
children in need of babysitting; indeed, every day for the entire school day, we found

3
ourselves warehoused in classrooms where nothing more than the most rudimentary
education was on offer. Later, as an educator, I was often besieged by Black parents with
complaints about their children’s academic performance and the failure on the part of schools
to address their concerns and understand the difficulties they faced juggling work and child
care while at the same time trying to oversee their children’s schoolwork.

My experience with race and racism within the education system did not end with
high school. As an undergraduate student, I often participated in class discussions that would
degenerate into racist-flavoured indictments of Africa. I also recall a certain White professor
who, much to the discomfort of his African students, would transform lectures in Sub-
Saharan African history into a theatre of contempt for all things African. His views on the
“dark continent” went beyond the merely uncomplimentary to signify African kings, e.g.,
Shaka, the great Zulu King, as personifications of evil and barbarity. To add insult to injury,
he would encourage the class to consult my opinion should they harbour any doubt as to the
veracity of his claims. Thus, I was pressed into the role of African expert and assigned to
corroborate his racially-charged views on Africa. Powerless, I endured the weekly 3-hour
class, in the company of two other African students, one of whom dropped the course when
she could no longer bear the professor’s determined assault on African dignity. These and
like experiences, along with exposure to archival documentation relating to the history of
Black settlement in the British Northwest, i.e., present-day British Columbia, stirred my
interest in TAAS and AE and the educational narratives it purports to offer Black students.

More recently, I had the opportunity to read an essay written by the son of a friend,
then a Grade 11 student, focusing on how rap and hip-hop music were impacting Black
students. My first response was one of shock and alarm at the liberal use of expletives and
misogynistic language. My disappointment, however, was neither with the boy nor the
parents, whom, I assumed, viewed the school as an institution dedicated to educating their
son to the best of its ability; rather, it was with the teacher, a certified professional—or so
one would assume—who had assigned the paper an “A” in complete disregard for decorum
as well as the rules of grammar. Dismayed, I helped the boy rewrite the paper, which he then
resubmitted. In the margins of the text the teacher commented that this second effort marked

4
a major improvement over the first, which struck me as ironic given that the earlier version
had received an “A”.

The intent in narrating this story is not to indict all teachers, but to highlight the
ethical concerns raised by this teacher’s professional standards, or lack thereof—concerns
that are presumably shared by the parents of marginalized Black students. Would the same
grade have been assigned were the author White or his family middle-class, and thus
sufficiently well-educated and motivated to challenge so undeserved a grade? Likely not. In
this instance it is safe to assume, or so I believe, that race and class mediate academic
experience. I further believe that this holds true for the Toronto public school system as a
whole. What my friend’s son was subjected to during the course of 11 years in that system is
what Shujaa (1994) describes as “too much schooling [with] too little education”—a not
uncommon fate for the mass of Black students attending schools in the Toronto metropolitan
area, students whose academic performance is either overrated or underrated by teachers with
little regard for the immediate consequences of such pedagogic practices and little or no
vested interest in securing their futures.

1.2. Problem Statement

The official opening of the Toronto Africentric Alternative School (TAAS) on

September 8, 2009 was not without controversy. For critics of TAAS, it represents nothing
less than a racist project orchestrated by non-mainstream Black1 scholars, parents,
community leaders, and activists. Thus, news that the Toronto District School Board had
approved the school was greeted with a storm of protest that rocked the public education
system to its core. Indeed, TAAS, along with the principles of Afrocentric Education (AE)

1
Like Annette Henry, I use the term “[Black] to signify people of African descent living in Canada, regardless
of country of birth. In this way, I am emphasizing a common place of origin as well as a common experience
and struggle under Anglo/European domination and exploitation” (Henry, 1993, p. 219). I use the term
interchangeably with African-Canadian, Africa-American and African.

5
upon which it was predicated, “became a flashpoint for conflicting discourses on public
education in [Ontario]” (Levine-Rasky, 2014, p. 202).

For TAAS proponents, the public school system had failed Black students as evinced
by declining levels of academic performance, high suspension and dropout rates (Dei,
Holmes, Mazzuca, McIsaac & Zine, 1997), and violence involving Black male students
disproportionately both as perpetrators and victims (Levine-Rasky, 2012). No longer willing
to accept the endemic underperformance of Black students in the public school system, Black
parents, scholars, and community leaders called for an alternative educational model, one
that would focus on African representations and achievements.

Black parental disillusionment with the public education system was confirmed in a
report issued by the Toronto District School Board (TDSB) in which it was noted that of
those “students born in English-speaking Islands in the Caribbean who entered Grade 9 in
2000, 40 per cent had dropped out by 2005” (Brown, 2006, para. 17). The report further
stated that this high dropout rate “applie[d] more to male second generation Caribbean
students than their female peers” (James, 2011, p. 193). These findings corroborate the 1994
Royal Commission on Learning in Ontario (RCOL) report that used the term “education in
crisis” to describe the state of the Toronto public school system (RCOL as cited in James,
2011, p. 199).

According to Brown and Sinay (2008), there exist significant disparities in the
academic performance of Black students. Those born in Africa "achiev[ed] at or above the
provincial standard in all four subjects [Reading, Writing, Mathematics and Science," (p. 16)
thereby outperforming their Caribbean counterparts. The authors attribute this phenomenon
to the "parent's place of birth, parental presence at home, parent's education and family socio-
economic status" (p. 17). It may be inferred then that the success or failure of Black students
in the public education system is determined by geographical and environmental variables
and by structural and class deficits.

6
 Dei (2008) argues that TAAS and AE offer an optimum approach to locating an
African heritage at the centre of the educational experience, thus enabling students to learn
about themselves and their heritage in juxtaposition to other knowledge systems. Such an
approach, Dei contends, will help students to cultivate confidence and interrogate hegemonic
narratives that misrepresent Africa and its history and the role played by its various peoples
in contributing to world civilization. Dei (2008) contends that TAAS can provide Black
students with a safe and nurturing environment in which to learn, wherein their contributions
are judged according to non-Western educational norms by teachers who understand their
culture and have a vested interest in their academic success. Interacting daily with peers and
appropriate role models and learning about their African heritage will, according to this
perspective, instill in Black students a sense of self-worth.

According to those opposed to the mainstream public education system, multicultural

education (ME) does not promote plurality of thought as its proponents claim. For the most
part, ME content is grounded in an ideology2 that privileges White supremacy and either
downplays or disparages the contributions to nation building made by minority groups
(Boykin, 1994; 1986; Gordon, 1993; Harper, 1997). In their view, moreover, the public
school system policy of ‘see-no-evil, speak-no-evil’ with respect to racism, which is
manifested in school curricula, hinders the pursuit by Black students of an inclusive
education, vitiates their interest in learning and destroys their dreams of a better future. With
‘White’ Canadian history presented as historical truth and Black Canadian contributions to
nation building discounted (Dei et al., 1997; Kong, 1996), it is hardly surprising that the
confidence of Black students should remain at a low ebb, notwithstanding the
counterargument advanced by its proponents that ME promotes “greater equity in education,”
challenges “ethnocentric bias” in the curriculum, fosters intercultural dialogue among
students (Bonnett & Carrington, 1996, p. 272) and is open to innovation and reform.

2
Here “ideology” is employed in much the same way as Seliger, who asserts that “Sets of ideas by which men
posit, explain and justify ends and means of organised social actions, and specifically political action,
irrespective of whether such action aims to preserve, amend, uproot or rebuild a given social order” (Seliger,
1976, p. 11 cited in Gerring, 1997, p. 11).

7
 For TAAS and AE proponents, the new school and its educational model offer Black
parents the opportunity to enroll their children in a learning institution they view as capable
of addressing the educational needs of Black students and instructing them using strategies
and perspectives deemed crucial to reversing the "tide of underachievement,
overrepresentation in special education and vocational programs, and the disproportionate
number of suspensions and exclusions of Black students from the city's school" (Johnson,
2013, p. 3).

Despite the enthusiasm that greeted the opening of TAAS from some quarters, there
has been no shortage of resistance and criticism. According to some of the critics, TAAS and
AE limit the educational and employment prospects of Black students, especially in a
knowledge-based economy where certain skill sets are essential (Lund, 1998). Thus, for
these critics, admitting predominantly Black students, vis-à-vis those of all races and
backgrounds, fosters the very inequality Afrocentric scholars purport to oppose. The
optimum solution, the critics argue, lies in reforming the public school system, in particular
its curricula and pedagogy, with a view to reflecting multicultural diversity, encouraging
inter-racial tolerance and understanding among students, and fostering an appreciation of the
contributions Canadians of every colour, creed and ethnicity—Black, White, Asian, First
Nations—have made to Canadian society.

For the critics, to institutionalize AE would be to resurrect on Canadian soil the kind
of segregated school system once commonplace in the United States, one wherein race was
the chief criterion for admission. This kind of educational model would place Black students
at a disadvantage in terms of acquiring cross-cultural knowledge and contesting racial and
cultural stereotypes (James, 2011). Moreover, this kind of 'race-based' education, the critics
contend, would do little to challenge the historical dominance of Eurocentrism in the public
school system. TAAS and AE, they argue, would merely replace one hegemonic system with
another (Lund, 1998).

Lund, a multicultural scholar, argues that TAAS represents a setback for race
relations in Canada (Lund, 1998). Precisely whose history and knowledge, he asks, would

8
have primacy in an Afrocentric curriculum given the cultural divisions within Black
Canadian communities. According to Lund, creating a 'race-based' education system will
only encourage racial and cultural binaries, thereby hampering further collaborative efforts to
rid Toronto public schools of the systemic barriers that privilege White students over visible
minorities. Reforming public education, Lund argues, can be achieved by building on the
modest successes achieved by the public school system and encouraging pluralism, rather
than by establishing separate schools to cater exclusively to the academic and cultural needs
of Black students (Lund, 1998). More recently, however, his enthusiasm for ME has waned;
indeed, his current position is indistinguishable from that of Afrocentric scholars (Lund,
2008, 2009):

Th[e] denial of racism and reluctance to name specific instances of racism often
creates barriers to addressing problems as they arise in schools and communities. . . .
The pervasive power of White privilege in reinforcing the denial of a racist society
and its horrific past also inhibits attempts to bring racism to the fore in educational
research. (Lund, 2009, p. 39)

1.3. Statement of Purpose

This study examines Black parents’ perceptions of AE generally and TAAS in

particular. In doing so it aims to shed light on how parents perceive the role of race, culture
and history in education, particularly with respect to academic performance. In this study
Black parents were asked to share their perceptions of what AE and TAAS mean in terms of
educating Black students, preparing them for the opportunities and challenges awaiting them
upon graduating and addressing the achievement gap between them and their White peers.
This study foregrounds the views of Back parents, thus positioning them as knowing
“subjects” rather than objects of research (Asante, 1993, p. 3). To address these questions, I
employed Afrocentric theory and qualitative methodology (including interviews and
document analysis that followed a critical ethnographic approach).

9
1.4. Research Objectives

Four research objectives were identified: (i) develop an understanding of how Black
parents perceive AE and TAAS; (ii) elicit parents’ views on how AE has impacted the
education of Black students; (iii) identify the benefits Black parents believe their children are
deriving from TAAS and AE that would not, or could not, be provided by the mainstream
public school system; and (iv) document the successes achieved by students and the
challenges posed them as a result of attending TAAS and exposure to AE

The following six questions were formulated with a view to determining how Black
parents perceive TAAS and AE:

1. How do TAAS and AE help Black students understand themselves, their

heritage, and their place in the world?
2. What does the term ‘Afrocentric education’ mean to Black parents?
3. Should race take centre stage in the education of Black children or should
it play a complementary role in this respect?
4. How do Black parents feel about Black children attending a school that is
predominantly Black and taking courses focusing mainly on Black people
and Black culture?
5. How does Afrocentric education differ from mainstream public education?
6. What opportunities and challenges await TAAS students following
graduation and how are they being prepared to meet them?

1.5. Significance of the Study

This study is significant for several reasons: First, it provides an opportunity for
Black parents to talk openly about TAAS and AE from their situated standpoints. Second, it
raises awareness and enhances the public's understanding of TAAS and AE. Third, it extends
the use of Afrocentric Theory in the field of research and delineates the operational
mechanics of TAAS, i.e., the various ways and means in which AE is enacted. Fourth, it
provides education policymakers with knowledge and insights as to how best to help
marginalized students. Fifth, it supplements the body of existing knowledge pertaining to

10
TAAS and AE. Sixth, it stimulates demand for equity in education. And lastly, it serves as a
launching pad for action aimed at reforming the public education system, particularly in
those areas where Black Canadians have been marginalized.

1.6. Organization of the Dissertation

This dissertation consists of seven chapters. Chapter 1 has provided my positionality,

the background and context of the study as well as the research objectives, questions and
outline of the dissertation. It introduced the two chief reasons underlying the creation of
TAAS: frustration on the part of Black parents with the achievement gap that has long
existed in the public education system and their determination to create an alternative that
speaks to the Black experience, in part through the use of African-centred teaching materials
to which Black students can relate. I also discussed the disparate arguments proffered by
advocates and critics alike of TAAS and AE.

In Chapter 2, I provide a literature review of works pertaining to colonial and

Eurocentric education,3 informed by an Afrocentric and anti-colonial perspective. Regarding
the pedagogical philosophy underlying colonial and Eurocentric education, I argue that
neither was designed for Africans and as such has never addressed the intellectual and
developmental needs of people of African descent. Rather, both models aimed at managing
the intellectual development and human aspirations of Africans in a way that would
perpetuate White domination and exploitation. In this chapter, I also contend that while
multicultural education has contributed to reducing the impact of colonial education on Black
students, there remain two concerns: the preponderance of White representations in the
curriculum and the token acknowledgement given Black heritage and knowledge systems.

3
I use Eurocentric education to signify “an [educational system] and practice[s] of domination and exclusion
based on the assumption that all relevance and value are centered in European culture and peoples and that
all other cultures and peoples are at best marginalized and at worst irrelevant” (Karenga 1993 cited in
Schreiber, 2000, p. 654).

11
 Chapter 3 focuses on Afrocentricity, the theoretical framework for the study.
Afrocentricity is presented here as a continuum of work by some of the leading scholars of
Africa and the African diaspora, such as W.E.B Du Bois, who argued that education is
crucial to resisting White oppression, and political leaders like Marcus Garvey and Kwame
Nkrumah who not only galvanized Africans into fighting for their freedom, but also
expounded ideas that would set in motion the social and political development of Pan-
African peoples, chief among which was the notion that development could only come about
through indigenous initiatives, aimed at building African-centred institutions capable of
promoting non-colonial models of development. In this chapter, I provide a brief overview of
the Toronto Africentric Alternative School, its governance, curriculum and staff.

Chapter 4 outlines the research methodology; Afrocentric theory, my research

paradigm. Using Afrocentric paradigm, I delineate the worldviews of people of African
descent vis-à-vis Europeans in the diverse world of knowledge production, particularly
research; a world where the voices and views of the dominant takes primacy and African
worldviews, consciousness, and contribution to humanity stifled to preserve White
supremacy. Employing an Afrocentric paradigm (Dillard, 2006; Mazama, 2001; Oyebade,
1990), I argue that the objective of research; thus, ameliorating the human and material
conditions of Africans, is met when those who live the experience define and articulate their
experience in a manner that reflects their struggle rather than defer the expression and
interpretation of their experience to foreign scholars removed from the theatre of their
struggle. Also examined are my axiology, the value systems I bring to the study, my critical
interrogation of the dominant knowledge systems and principles of social justice in relation
to Black oppression. Other topics discussed include methods for collecting analyzing and
interpreting data, in addition to background information on the participants.

In Chapters 5 and 6, I provide the findings of this inquiry. In Chapter 5, Black

parent’s conception of Afrocentricity, Afrocentric schooling and education are analyzed as
well as the sense of identity they derived from their educational experience within the public
school systems in Toronto or elsewhere in Canada.

12
 In Chapter 6, I analyze Black parent’s engagement with TAAS specifically and
Afrocentric education in general and their views on the benefits and challenges of
Afrocentric education and specific issues, e.g., identity and education, and what Afrocentric
education has to offer vis-à-vis the mainstream public school system. In subsequent sections,
I examine how the Canadian public views the Afrocentric School as revealed in newspapers
and magazines op-eds.

In Chapter 7, I provide a precis of the main research findings; Black parents’

perceptions of TAAS and AE; their general views, some of which the study confirms, others
it challenges. Also discussed here is how the findings expand our knowledge of TAAS and
AE; the successes TAAS has enjoyed and the challenges it faces; and parental proposals to
improve the school and the educational model. I also argue the case for additional studies.
While my research findings do have limitations, I believe they provide a sound basis for
making recommendations pertaining to ways and means for improving TAAS and AE and
making education worthy of Black students as well as a worthy investment for Black parents
and the Black community.

13
Chapter 2.

Literature Review

2.1. The Historical and Contemporary Education of Blacks

In this chapter, I discuss the impact of colonial and Eurocentric education on people
of African descent. It is my contention that the impact of colonial education4 on these peoples
is both profound and far-reaching. While I define colonialism broadly as the conquest of
newly-discovered territories and their inhabitants by force of arms and/or less coercive
methods, notably colonial education, it was the latter that eroded their cultural identity and
led them to internalize their oppression and inferiority vis-à-vis their colonial masters, a
phenomenon clearly in evidence today.

In pre-confederation Canada, and in particular Upper Canada, the colonial education

system promoted segregated schools, which in turn reproduced White supremacy. And while
multicultural education has changed Canadian education radically, and especially over the
course of the 20th century, it continues to typecast those of African descent as essentially
inferior to their White counterparts, thus perpetuating their marginalization and
subordination. In the Canadian context, Black student disinterest in education has been
attributed to Black culture, manifested in part by apathy on the part of African-Canadian
communities (Lille, 2008). For its part, the mainstream public school system has played, and
continues to play a role, however modest, in fostering an environment that many Black
students find unfriendly and antithetical to their intellectual and emotional development. It is
against this backdrop that critics of multicultural education argue that the intellectual atrophy
afflicting Blacks in general, and Black Canadians in particular, can be corrected, through
educational initiatives such as TAAS and AE, aimed at, among other things, identifying the

4
An education system premised on the claims and “old [White] habits . . . that Africans did not have
civilization prior to contact with [Europeans], that Africans never invented or created anything and that
[civilization] is solely a White project (Asante, 1998, p. 41).

14
underlying cause(s) of Black student underachievement in the Toronto public education
system. Black students can, as the literature review reveals, excel, provided they receive the
kind of education that liberates their minds and empowers them as opposed to denigrating
their humanity.

2.2. Colonial and Eurocentric Education in the

Context of Black Education

In examining colonial and Eurocentric education and its impact on students of

African descent, I draw on the work of Nkrumah (Nkrumah, 1962, 1964), who studied in his
native Ghana, then a British colony, and subsequently in the United States before returning
home to lead an anticolonial movement, which succeeded in securing Ghanaian
independence in 1957.

In his analysis of colonial education, Nkrumah argues that the system is not designed
to uplift the colonized from their marginalized and subordinated position, but rather to
contain and channel their intellectual and psychological development for the benefit of the
colonizers (Nkrumah, 1964). Colonial education, according to Nkrumah, aims at reducing
even the most educated of Africans to mere appendages of White supremacy from which
position they might serve as a conduit for White-European values, thus contributing to their
internalization among the indigenous population. The power of colonial education, Nkrumah
contends, lies in its ability to pose as the font of universal knowledge against which all other
forms of knowledge are measured. Seduced by Western philosophies and systems of thought,
African students give themselves up entirely to colonial education even if this means
working against the true interests of their own people. “By reason of their lack of contact
with their own roots, [Africans] bec[o]me prone to accept some theory of universalism . . .
expressed in vague, [and] mellifluous terms” (Nkrumah, 1964, p. 3).

In general, African students who had completed a colonial education and then went
on to become the continent’s postcolonial leaders set about purging their respective countries
of their traditions and replacing them with those of Europe, a first step along what they

15
believed to be the road to modernity. This constitutes, I would argue, one of the chief factors
underlying Africa’s underdevelopment. And even though Nkrumah’s analysis focuses
mainly on colonial education, his conclusions regarding the impact of European-centred
education on African students hold true for African-Canadian students enrolled in the
Toronto public education system. Currently in Canada, some African-Canadian parents, who
are themselves the product of a colonial education and who continue to believe in the
superiority of European education and in the opportunities it confers, would rather bury the
debate over TAAS and AE, fearing the latter would only deny their children the ‘quality’
education’ the mainstream public education system purports to provide. The appeal of
European education for this marginalized group lies in the conviction that change will come
with time, and until it does, the status quo should prevail. For some African parents who are
critics of TAAS and AE, quality education should be measured not by its colonial,
Eurocentric or multicultural orientation, but by whether it provides Black students with the
functional literacy and numeracy, along with the marketable skills, required to exploit job
opportunities (Ouzy, 27/09/2013).

As Nkrumah (1964) points out, colonial education promotes White pre-eminence

through its epistemic power. The latter, Nkrumah argues, provides the colonizer free rein to
deny African students a sense of agency. Put another way, it programs the African student to
internalize a non-entity status, one with no past or future, and it does so largely unopposed by
the colonized. Writes Nkrumah:

The history of Africa, as presented by European scholars, has been

encumbered with malicious myths. It was even denied that we were a
historical people. It was said that whereas other continents had shaped history,
and determined its course, African had stood still, held down by inertia; that
Africa was only propelled into history by European contact. African history
was therefore presented as an extension of European history. Hegel’s
authority was lent to this a-historical hypothesis concerning Africa, which he
himself unhappily helped to promote. . . . In presenting the history of Africa as
the history of the collapse of our traditional societies in the presence of the
European advent, colonialism and imperialism employed their account of
African history and anthropology as an instrument of their oppressive
ideology. (p. 62)

16
 As stated earlier, African students have been taught to believe that the destiny of
Africans is fixed and under the aegis of Europeans. Despite their long presence in Canada,
one that predates Confederation, Black Canadians are treated in mainstream textbooks as a
mere appendage to Canadian history. Whether in the classroom or in public for a Black
Canadian history is presented as a minor footnote to White Canadian history; Black Canadian
success is often attributed to the generosity of European Canadians in opening the doors of
the British Dominion to freed slaves, Black Loyalists, Haitian refugees and victims of both
the genocide in Rwanda and mass rapes in the Congo.

According to Nkrumah (1964), for Africans to free themselves from an oppressive

colonial and neo-colonial legacy, nothing short of a paradigm shift in education is required,
something that will only be realized when Black people muster sufficient courage and
determination to deny colonial education the self-arrogated power to define Africans and
shape their history. Assuming ownership of African history, Nkrumah argues, will position
Africans to tell it from an African perspective. Such an undertaking, Nkrumah theorizes, is
essential if Africans are to chart their own trajectory free of any European influence:

[African] history needs to be written as the history of [African] societ[ies], not

as a story of European adventurers. . . . [African] history [must reflect] . . .
that society, and the European contact must find its place in this history only
as an African experience, even if it is a crucial one. (p. 63)

The views of Nyerere, one of Africa’s leading anticolonial figures, complement those of
Nkrumah. Writes Nyerere (1968):

[In all societies, the primary goal of education is to] transmit from one
generation to the next the accumulated wisdom and knowledge of . . . society,
and to prepare the young for their future membership [in] . . . society and for
their active participation in its maintenance and development. . . .Wherever
education fails in any of these fields, then society falters in its progress, or
there is social unrest as people find [out] that their education has prepared
them for a future which is not open to them. (pp. 268-269)

In the context of African education and interpersonal relations, the word “wisdom” is
inextricably related to folklore, which is of central importance in African life—thus the

17
perception of village elders as depositories of knowledge and transmitters of long-held
traditions deemed essential to survival. The status that folklore enjoys signifies that Africans
place a premium on ways of perceiving and ordering the world that are at variance with their
Europe counterparts.

Though Nyerere (1968) emphasizes the importance of science and the humanities in
African education and the continent’s development, he also argues that that they should be
applied in a way that is sensitive to the local context; they should also equip young Africans
with the knowledge and skills required to solve problems at the community level. Both,
moreover, must be integrated into, and conform to, a people-based educational system lest
false hopes be created. Not surprisingly, Nyerere rejects claims that colonial education holds
the key to Africa’s development:

[Africans] learn by living and doing. In the homes and on the farms they [are]
taught the skills of society, and the behaviour expected of its members. They
learn the kind of grasses which were suitable for which purposes, the work
which had to be done on the crops, or the care which had to be given to
animals, by joining with their elders in this work. They learned the[ir] tribal
history, and the tribe’s relationship with other tribes and with the spirits, by
listening to the stories of the elders. Through these means, and by the customs
of sharing to which young people were taught to conform, the values of
society were transmitted. Education was thus ‘informal’; every adult was a
teacher to a greater or lesser degree. But this lack of formality did not mean
that there was no education, nor did it affect its importance to society. Indeed,
it may have made the education more directly relevant to the society in which
the child was growing up. (p. 268)

According to Nyerere (1968), African education must take into consideration the
interests of the Black community of which the individual is a part. Like Nkrumah, he was of
the opinion that colonial education “was not designed [for Africa’s intellectual and
developmental needs]” (pp. 269); rather, it was intended to promote White supremacy by
inculcating in students European values, attitudes, assumptions and norms, thus
reconstituting them as agents of the “colonial state” (p. 269). Thus, for example, while the
system of colonial education established in Tanganyika, present day Tanzania, was,
according to Nyerere, geared to provide Africans with basic literacy, often under the auspices

18
of various Christian churches, it also served to perpetuate British hegemony by colonizing
the minds of students. In the context of intra-national politics, it played a significant role in
pitting ethnic groups against one another by “encourag[ing] attitudes of inequality,
intellectual arrogance and intense individualism among young people who [passed] through
[Tanzania’s colonial] schools” (p. 275). Owing to colonial education, Nyerere argues,
Tanzania’s educated elite followed in the footsteps of their colonial masters and mentors in
reinforcing inferiority-superiority binaries. For these elites, colonial education became an
instrument, not of liberation but of oppression. The new oppressors often displayed White
attitudes to make themselves feel unique and distinguish themselves from the ‘uneducated.’
Indoctrinated in European values, they perceived indigenous value systems as primeval and
thus an obstacle to building a modern nation state. For them, being White was more
important than being African, a condition connoting all that was backward. Colonial
education, from Nyerere’s (1968) point of view, was a premeditated project aimed at turning
educated Africans into “efficient adjunct[s] of the governing power” (pp. 269-270). It was,
however, a project doomed to fail. Writes Nyerere:

[After independence] so little education had been provided that in December

1961, [Tanzania] had few[er] people with the necessary educational
qualifications even to man the administration of government as it was then,
much less to undertake big economic and social development work which was
essential. (p. 270)

The colonialist, Eurocentric, and White supremacist traditions of education have been
critiqued and rejected not only by continental African (Black) intellectuals, but also by
Latino South American and US neo-Marxist scholars. Freire (1970), whose work would
become the foundation of a critical pedagogy, contends that the oppressed can win their
freedom by adopting a revolutionary and indigenous model of education that interrogates,
challenges and replaces colonial education whatever particular form it may assume.

In step with Nkrumah and Nyerere, Paulo Freire (1970) argues that colonial
education, whatever the context, aims at enslaving the minds of indigenous populations. In
Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Freire argues that this form of education, would prove to be no

19
passing phenomenon, indeed, an almost imperceptible blip, in the grand sweep of African
history; rather, it would leave a legacy of unintended consequences, leading some critics to
describe it as an intellectual virus that has destroyed, or at least compromised, the intellectual
independence of Africans (Freire, 1997). In his introduction to the 2000 edition of Freire’s
Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Macedo argues that what was intended to enlighten Africans
students, turned them into “schizophrenic[s], who though present in the classroom were not
“visible” (Macedo as cited in Freire, 2000, p. 11). In “Examining the case for ‘African-
centred’ schools in Ontario,” Dei (1995) sums up the predicament of Black students in the
Toronto public education system in a single laconic sentence: “There are [Black] students at
school who appear to be there in body but not in spirit” (Dei, 1995, p. 192). The emphasis on
rote learning rather than critical thinking, reading and writing and on Euro-Canadian rather
than Black history has compelled these students, as a condition for remaining in school, to
detach themselves emotionally from a curriculum that renders them insignificant,
unimportant, and powerless.

According to Macedo, colonial education works to both pre-empt African initiatives

and prevent the colonized from accessing alternative knowledge systems that are antithetical
to all forms of oppression. To prolong its longevity and Africans’ intellectual dependence on
Europe, colonial education “fostered subordination through imposed assimilation policy”
(Macedo as cited in Freire 2000, p. 12). It gave the oppressed false hope, a tactic, which for
most part worked against efforts to fight the colonial system and to keep the oppressed within
the colonial orbit.

Freire (2000) describes colonial education as a “banking system” (p. 72):

The “banking” concept of education, [is one] in which the scope of action
allowed to the students extends only as far as receiving, filing, and storing the
deposits. . . . [The system] lack[s] creativity, transformation and knowledge . .
. (At best) [it is a] misguided system . . . In the banking system of education,
knowledge is a gift bestowed by those who consider themselves
knowledgeable upon those who they consider to know nothing. Projecting an
absolute ignorance onto others . . . [it] negates education and knowledge as
processes of inquiry. (p. 72)

20
From the quote, one gathers that colonial education not only promotes disaffection among
students; it perpetuates inequality. Faced with the threat of punishment, colonized students
accept dominant narratives; fearful of their teachers, they become disaffected with learning.
Freire writes: “Banking education . . . minimize[s] [and] annul[s] . . . students’ creative
power and stimulate[s] their credulity to serve the interest of the oppressor, who care neither
to have the world revealed nor to see it transformed” (p. 73). Assuming a humanitarian face,
colonial education forestalls “any call for radical change that might “stimulate critical
faculties” (Freire, 2000, p. 73). The master-servant relation, moreover, denies students a
“problem-posing education while mythologiz[ing]” White superiority (Freire, 2000, p. 83)

Regarding the impact of colonial education on the African mind, Woodson (1933)
notes that Blacks that have graduated from colonial school systems are ‘miseducated’ and
thus lack the knowledge and skills required to remedy problems afflicting their communities.
For Woodson, there exists but one corrective: an alternative education system that
incorporates Black history and culture and treats them as essential to the intellectual
development of Black students. The poverty, marginalization and subordination of Black
people, Woodson posits, stems from a reluctance on their part to alter the status quo in light
of the uncertainty regarding the consequences. The chief impact of a colonial education on
Black people, Woodson notes, is that it internalizes a sense of inferiority vis-à-vis Whites
(Woodson, 1933).

Ratteray (1994) contends that colonial education universalizes classical European

history and culture, while marginalizing its African counterparts. Moreover, under a colonial
education system, learning to read and write European languages and learn European
knowledge systems is part of a strategy designed to internalize in Black students an antipathy
to African systems of thought and education (Ratteray, 1994). Colonial education, Ratteray
claims, compels these students to adopt dominant worldviews that alienate them from their
uneducated fellows (Ratteray, 1993). The educated-uneducated dichotomy weakens Black
solidarity, impeding the struggle for equal recognition, equal rights and respect.

21
 Whereas colonial education afforded privileged White students the opportunity to
develop their self-esteem and learn about their history and heritage, it denied Black students
the same opportunity. Normalizing and universalizing colonial education compelled Black
students to accept White domination and privilege as part of the natural order of things
(Murrell, 1993; Woodson, 1933), setting in motion a mode of behaviour that would manifest
itself in their rejecting all things African and validating all things European, and most
especially knowledge systems and values.

Like colonial education, the Eurocentric education model that replaced it would,
advocates of Afrocentric education argue, prove to be no less oppressive and exclusionary
while continuing to highlight the progressive character of the West, thus privileging White
supremacy. According to Asante (1987; 2005), the Afrocentric educational model affords
Black students the opportunity to learn and to understand to far greater effect (Asante, 1987;
2005). Making available knowledge to which Black students can relate, Asante argues,
allows them to cultivate a sense of agency, the first step in taking control of their destiny.
Through AE Black students can reclaim their voice, articulate their lived experience and
worldview and feel validated (Asante, 2003; Dei, 2006). AE, Asante posits, builds in Black
students confidence, allowing them to challenge racist representations of peoples of African
descent (Asante, 1987; 2003; 2005)—historical and contemporary misrepresentations,
whether overt or subtle, that persist in school curricula and that work to fuel Black student
disaffection.

From an Afrocentric perspective, Black students in mainstream schools are missing

out on a transformative educational experience because they have been acculturated to
interpret Black reality through the “artificial beams” of Europe (Asante, 2003, p. 3).
Eurocentric education, Asante contends, inhibits Black students’ appreciation for Black
education. It confines Black heroes largely to the world of entertainment and sport with the
occasional nod given the likes of Martin Luther King Jr., whose views, because they are
temperate, qualify him for inclusion in school curricula. In Canada, as in all educational
systems, what passes for knowledge is determined by the dominant order; so it is hardly
surprising that in contrast to peoples of European descent, Blacks appear in school syllabi as

22
second-rate citizens. While Asante’s work focuses primarily on African-American
education, it remains relevant to this enquiry in that it examines the same kind of barriers
facing African-Canadian students in the mainstream public education system and more
generally the disadvantages under which they labour in Eurocentric education systems. For
him, the solution lies with AE, an educational model that encourages alternative perspectives
and undermines a colonial mode of thought and its racist typecast of people of African
descent as “objects” (Asante, 1993, p. 3) located on the fringe of Europe. AE, from an
Afrocentric standpoint, allows Black students to see for themselves, to hear for themselves,
to think for themselves, and to make informed decisions for themselves (Asante, 1993; Keto,
2001).

Keto’s interpretation of Afrocentric education is similar in most respects to Asante’s

(Keto, 2001). According to Keto (2001), mainstream education limits Black students’ access
to liberatory knowledge (Keto, 2001). He further asserts that it is not only rife with abstract
speculation regarding African knowledge systems; its allusions to and inferences regarding
Africans and their respective cultures are almost always negative. It presupposes, moreover,
that there is nothing meaningful to learn outside White culture. Given such racist
assumptions and attitudes, it is hardly surprising that so many Black students should give up
on education. One particularly insidious consequence of this mode of “Eurocentric
diffusionsim” (Keto, 2001, p. 44) is the way it tarnishes the self-image of Black students who
come to view themselves through the racist tropes so pervasive in school textbooks (Jean,
1991; Keto, 2001). Thus, for example, it is not unusual to hear a Black person refer to
himself or a friend as a “Negro” or “nigger”, a most pejorative epithet, whose source is
traceable to plantation slavery (Keto, 2001).

Irvine (1990) challenges the claim that mainstream education treats White and Black
alike. He points out that in the post-segregation mainstream public school system in the
United States, White students and their Black peers may have the same academic
opportunities, at least in theory, yet reap unequal educational benefits. The advantages the
former enjoy vis-à-vis the latter, e.g., the greater attention provided by teachers, most of
whom are White, all too often translate into superior academic performance. In academic

23
programs White students, who invariably make up the vast majority, are introduced to critical
thinking, problem solving and research skills; Black students, who are over overrepresented
in programs for low-achievers, are denied an equal opportunity to develop their creative and
critical faculties (Irvine, 1990; Murrell, 1993). Seldom challenged, and often unable to meet
standard requirements, students, mostly Black, are streamed into vocational programs—a
tracking process Boykin (1986) equates with segregation in that it assigns students to one of
two very different programs, i.e., academic and general, based on arbitrary evaluations that
single out 'at-risk' students who are predominantly Black, for punishment.

According to Boykin (1994), Eurocentric education, of which mainstream education

is a derivative, is blind to the power structures and ideologies that work to reproduce the
dominant order, of which mainstream education is a crucial part. Eschewing anything like a
critical examination of history, Eurocentric education naturalizes, and thereby perpetuates,
dominant views that rationalize and normalize the oppression of racialized students.
According to this scheme of thinking, calls for comprehensive educational reform, including
adoption of a curriculum that gives equal prominence to alternative histories and knowledge,
go unheeded. A true multicultural school system, one that embraces critical multicultural
education (CME),5 Boykin argues, would perforce acknowledge Black culture and other
cultures as fundamental to the education and general wellbeing of Black students. In other
words, the school curriculum must incorporate alternative knowledge systems that embrace
the Black history, culture and contributions so often ignored by the dominant school system
to the detriment of Black students.

For public education to become an equalizer, Boykin asserts, it must get beyond the
supposition that students become educated when they succeed in developing a certain facility
in the areas of reading, writing, and thinking. According to Boykin (1994; 1986), education
must be all-inclusive: it must cultivate in students, regardless of their race, what they deem to

5
Peter McLaren for example describes such an educational approach as one that “interrogates the construction
of difference and identity in relation to a radical politics. It is positioned against the neoimperial romance with
monoglot ethnicity grounded in a shared or ‘common’ experience of ‘America’ that is associated with
conservative and liberal strands of multiculturalism” (McLaren, 1995, p. 99).

24
be important rather than merely focusing on teaching the skills and knowledge required to
secure employment and make a decent living. Challenging the neoliberal concept of
education, Freire (2000) argues that education must go beyond its traditional function of
preparing illiterate students to “mee[t] [the] verbal [and written] requirements” (p.76)
necessary to securing a job.

According to Freire (2000), education must live up to its true goal: to teach students
not only how to read and write, but also discern the false hopes and oppression that both
shape and blight their lives. In addition to teaching them abstract concepts, education must,
he argues, teach the oppressed how to free themselves from oppression. Rather than turning
students into functional literates, it must adopt a transformative pedagogy aimed at
developing in students the ability to undermine structures of oppression and their status as
“spectators” (p. 75). Education must, Freire theorizes, be framed around the ethos of
liberation, turning students into curious adventurers on a quest to unveil “reality” and bring a
new “consciousness” to bear in addressing social issues (p. 81).

2.3. The School Curriculum as an Ideological Text

If the Toronto Public School system curriculum were a text, then its content will have
be said to have done little to educate Black students in ways that Black parents and critical
educators and scholars might approve. From an Afrocentric perspective, the school
curriculum/text can hardly be said to be neutral. Rather, in using Europe as frame of
reference, it works to valorize White supremacy while either ignoring or mischaracterizing
all things African, as, for example, by signifying African contributions as subjective or
lacking a scientific basis or bereft of cutting-edge ideas. In keeping with this program,
African history is dismissed as revisionist and esoteric (Boykin, 1986; Gordon, 1993).
Celebrating individualism and competitiveness, the school curriculum and pedagogy
disparage African communalism as an incentive for laziness, dependence, and lack of
enterprise. At the same time, White values and norms are universalized and signified as
essential to attaining success in school and beyond (Boykin, 1986). The ingrained belief that

25
the public school system promotes success works to silence calls for meaningful reform of
the school curriculum, particularly among school administrators and policymakers whose job
security depends on maintaining the status quo (Boykin, 1986).

Nkrumah (1964) likens colonial education to a vehicle for ideology. The work of
ideological indoctrination it performs, he argues, involves, among other things, internalizing
a European conception of how things are and how they ought to be, while concealing from
the colonized how they come to be. Central to this program, Nkrumah posits, White
supremacist ideology “characterize[s] society and remains a master instrument against which
all things are defined and measured” (p. 56), and critics of the system are punished. Thus is a
colonial worldview, along with the belief in White supremacy that underpins it, universalized
and naturalized in yet another ideological operation. At the same time, the baseness and
barbarity of the colonial project is minimized by, for example, signifying slavery as
beneficial to all by virtue of its role in ‘civilizing’ and Christianizing the benighted African
(Nkrumah, 1964; Woodson, 1933).

According to Nkrumah (1964), the psychological trauma inflicted on the African

mind by the colonial curriculum is total. Dazzled, and at the same time puzzled, by Western
thought, Black students, mechanically consume Western dogmas that degrade their
personalities and characters (Nkrumah, 1964). Writes Nkrumah:

The colonized African student, whose roots in his society are systematically
starved of sustenance, is introduced to Greek and Roman history, the cradle of
modern Europe, and he is encouraged to treat this portion of the story of man
together with the subsequent history of Europe as the only worthwhile portion.
This history is anointed with universalist flavouring which titillates the palate
of certain African intellectuals so agreeable that they become alienated from
their own immediate society. (p. 5)

While I disagree with Nkrumah’s (1964) blanket claim that African students made no
effort to challenge European education, his analysis can be applied to examining the
experience of African-Canadian students. Under the Eurocentric model of education, these
students come to learn that European knowledge systems are indispensable. Europe is

26
presented in the various curricula as the progenitor of civilization. Colonial education,
Nkrumah argues, obliges Black students to believe that their success is contingent upon
complying with European expectations for them and rejecting Africa’s esotericism (Boykin,
1986; Carruthers, 1994; King & Wilson, 1994; Nkrumah, 1964). To cement its chokehold on
Black students, the colonial education system adheres to a set of academic guidelines,
informed by Eurocentric values and norms, against which student success is measured. At the
same time, challenging dominant constructions is viewed as working outside civilized norms
(Nkrumah, 1964). But perhaps the most damning condemnation of the colonial education
system is that it shuns the very alternative knowledge systems that could be the Black
student’s salvation. From an anticolonial/Afrocentric perspective, colonial education
promotes "Anglo-conformity" (Fleras & Elliott, 1992, p. 42), in the process “silenc[ing]
multiple voices and perspectives [through omission] unless they can be disempowered
through misrepresentation” (Swartz as cited in Ladson-Billings, 1998, p. 18). This effectively
leaves no room in the education system for alternative knowledge systems, e.g., those of
Blacks, First Nations or women, that might interrogate the history of the Canadian nation-
state.

As Abdi (2012) points out, colonial education spins its web of oppression through a
variety of strategies that are imperceptible. In “Eurocentric discourses and African
philosophies and epistemologies of education: Counter-hegemonic analyses and responses”
(2012), Abdi discusses the dialectical struggles postcolonial nations face in framing
educational models that reveal their history and promote their ways of knowing. According
to Abdi, one major barrier to reversing the impact of colonial education pertains to the way in
which the system’s episteme has rendered African knowledge systems “essentially useless”
(p. 13). In a fashion that is cool and restrained, colonial and Eurocentric education systems
signify Africans in ways that are variably uncomplimentary. Consistent with their negative
view of Blacks, mainstream researchers continue to revere classical European philosophers,
e.g., Georg Hegel, Immanuel Kant, notwithstanding their antipathy toward everything
African. Despite accusations of racism, these philosophers enjoy institutional immunity, and
calls for their work to be purged from university libraries are met with resistance from

27
advocates of academic freedom. Under the hegemonic colonial school systems, Black
scholars and students received recognition only after demonstrating their ‘worthiness’ by
regurgitating Western philosophical thought.

While Abdi’s writings (2012) are informed by African-centred politics, he does not
subscribe to the specific discourse of Afrocentrism. Nevertheless, there is some degree of
synergy between his work, challenging the homogenization of knowledge systems, and
Asante’s interrogation of White philosophical models deemed to be universal. According to
the latter (1998), so pervasive are dominant knowledge systems in Western academic
discourse that “some African . . . writers, who have been . . . trained in Eurocentrism . . .
assume that everyone else should . . . acquiesce [to the] expansive provincialism [of
European-centred knowledge systems]” (p. 4). For Asante (1998), however, imposing
European knowledge systems and worldviews in an African context serves only to perpetuate
“Western triumphalism” (p. 21) and cultural neocolonialism.

Wright’s (2000) in-depth analysis of the marginalization of the contributions of Black

authors by dominant scholars and institutions is crucial to understanding the politics that
permeates knowledge production and dissemination. As he so lucidly points out, what is
expounded as knowledge in the education system is, in fact, mediated by race, ethnicity,
class, and gender. In “Why write back to the new missionaries? Addressing the exclusion of
(Black) others from the discourses of empowerment,” Wright delineates the ways in which
Black intellectuals are marginalized by the dominant group.

According to Winkler, Robin Kelly, an African-American professor of History and

African Studies and a . . . prolific writer, . . . “has not had his work reviewed in The New
York Times” (Winkler as cited in Wright, 2000, p. 123) despite his being the “youngest
person to be promoted to full professor at NYU [New York University], [having earned]
several prestigious awards for his books and [secured appointments to] the editorial boards of
several journals” (p. 123). Kelly’s experience speaks to the barriers Black authors confront
when seeking to have their work published. In the absence of Black-owned publishing
houses, Black authors are at the mercy of White publishers, which handicaps them from

28
showcasing African-centred ideas and presenting “counter arguments to dispel misguided
and inaccurate perceptions [of Blacks] in research and in society” (Gordon, 1990, p. 96).

While I am in not suggesting that Wright is correct in implying that Kelly’s race was
a key factor in The New York Times’ decision not to review his work, his analysis of race as
an unspoken impediment to Black intellectuals and Black voices in general underscores the
power of the dominant order to dictate what passes for knowledge and whose views should
have primacy in the marketplace of ideas. According to Wright (2000), even in universities
where academic freedom is presumed to constitute the sine qua non for scholarship, Black
academics often run up against a long-held tradition that obligates them to cite the work of
the “great White fathers” (p. 26) and often obscure figures whose views they may not share.
Reluctantly, these beleaguered scholars are obliged to comply so as not to “bit[e] the hand
that (force) feeds [them]” (p. 124). As I understand Wright, despite all the talk of progress
with respect to diversifying knowledge, European thought continues to dominate education at
every level. The totality of European knowledge is extant in its ability to occlude African
canons from contesting dominant narratives (Wright, 2000).

And what of the impact of colonial and Eurocentric education on Black students?
Packaged and delivered as a necessary good, both work to diminish their ability to preserve
their linguistic heritage. Barring indigenous languages from the classroom, colonial
education acculturates African students to Western mores; it conditions them to speak, think,
and act in ways that perpetuate European dominance. As to the importance of African
languages, Ngugi contends that its function extends well beyond mere verbal expression:

In our native [African] language, we have learnt to value words for their
meaning and nuances. Language [for us is] not a mere string of words. It ha[s]
a suggestive power well beyond the immediate and logical meanings. . . .
[Our] language, through images and symbols, g[i]ve[s] us a [unique] view of
the world. . . . [It serves as an earthwork against European] domination,
[Black] alienation and disenfranchisement. (Ngugi as cited in Abdi, 2012, p.
21)

29
Ngugi’s analysis provides insight into the importance of African languages; in particular,
they provide Black students with a strong sense of self-assurance, the lack of which can only
impede academic performance, a view held by virtually all Afrocentric scholars and their
supporters (Dei, 1995; Dei et al., 1997).

According to Fanon (1967), European education, with its assimilative ethos,

accompanied by an imperative to obliterate any sign of Africanity in the education system,
has tarnished his self-image while at the same time alienating him from his people. So bleak
an assessment is shared by Westerman who writes: “the Negro inferiority is particularly
intensified among the most educated, who struggle with it unceasingly” (p. 25). To
demonstrate to the kinfolk that he has succeeded in transcending the barbarity of African
culture and practices and is on a par with the colonizer, the colonized must reject his culture
and supplant his patois with foreign expressions and forced accents as his way of separating
himself from his people, who, he has been taught, are uncivilized. In his desire to become
European, which requires speaking and thinking accordingly, the educated African must
eschew the collective if he is to rise in status.

Whites, on the other hand, fare very differently in the public education system as
evinced in the way Canadian historiography chooses to frame their exploits and
achievements vis-à-vis those of racialized Canadians. While barely referencing the nation-
building role played by First Nations and Canadians of African, Chinese and Indian descent,
the mainstream school curriculum has never shied away from celebrating the achievements
of White Canadians, mostly male, in this regard. The latter are credited with discovering,
exploring, settling and developing the huge Canadian landmass, notwithstanding its
occupation by First Nations dating back 10,000 years or more (Neegan, 2005). According to
Cooper (2006), Canadian history is, for the most part, "filled with . . . [narratives of] White
explorers, pioneers, and heroic settlers," which, she contends, are "so one-sided, so
monolithic, and so homogenous" (pp. 12-13) as to paper over an inglorious history, one that
includes, most notably, the marginalization and subordination of the original Indigenous
inhabitants.

30
 Despite calls for reforms to school curricula, aimed at reflecting, at least in part, the
manifold contributions made by Canadians of all races, little has changed in terms of what is
being taught in public school systems. In most textbooks, the dominant version of how
Canada came into being takes precedence over alternative views. This is a set piece with a
Eurocentric curriculum that has no place for non-Western knowledge systems. According to
Castenell and Pinar (1993), the nullification of Black contributions by the public school
system is no oversight; rather, it is a conscious effort aimed at denying subordinate groups
their rightful place in history. In their quest to promote dominant discourses, argue Castenell
and Pinar (1993), school curricula have ignored alternatives. Though recent scholarship
acknowledges Africa’s contributions to world civilization (Bernal, 1987; Bernal & Moore,
2001; Diop, 1974), these narratives are often distorted or omitted altogether from the
curriculum. Typically, Africa is represented as an impoverished hinterland (Boykin, 1994;
King & Wilson, 1994; Woodson 1933), even though by some historical accounts its diverse
peoples succeeded in building highly sophisticated civilizations, e.g., the Mali, Songhai, and
Asante Empires. Moreover, while African cosmologies are written off as grounded in
superstition, the European conception of the universe is held to be rational and scientific
(Woodson, 1933). Could it be that the practice of disparaging the African heritage of Black
students, or excluding it entirely from the school curriculum, is responsible, at least in part,
for their disaffection with school and their high dropout rates?

2.4. Black Canadian Education:

A Historical Overview

Today, few would go so far as to argue that Black students are a burden to society and
recommend they be abandoned to their fate. Yet a good many believe Black Canadians to be
at least antipathetic to education. This view has no basis in fact, however, as evinced by the
notable achievements of some Black Canadians across a wide range of occupational fields;
nonetheless, it does provide fuel for TAAS critics who oppose comprehensive educational
reform on the grounds that no purpose is to be served by investing additional funds and
resources in those who place little or no value on education (Winks, 1997).

31
 Black student disaffection is as indisputable as its cause is clear: education has for
them no utility; it provides neither employment opportunities nor a remedy for racism. Thus,
education is seen as an unworthy investment, a view that would have been incomprehensible
to Black pioneers who saw in it a pathway to self-improvement and to earning respect in a
racist society. Indeed, it was for this reason Maria Alexander Chinn Gibbs, purportedly "the
best educated woman" in the British Northwest (Kilian, 2009), would instill in her two
daughters a strong work ethic and love of education. Ida Gibbs Hunt (born in 1862)
graduated from Oberlin College and became a high school teacher in Washington, DC.
Harriet Gibbs Marshall (born in 1867) graduated from the Conservatory Music School of
Oberlin and was appointed professor of music at Eckstein-Norton University at Cave
Springs, Kentucky. She would later accept a position as music director for the town’s public
school (Alexander, 2010; Kilian, 2008).

Since making Canada their new home, Black Canadians have always, according to
some accounts, made education a priority despite poverty and the hostility of Whites. And
while Reverend George Pigeon held Blacks to be "exceedingly importunate until they
obtain[ed] the object of their wishes," [at which point] they become "equally negligent and
indifferent” (Winks, 1997, p. 59), his views in this regard were hardly applicable to
education, which the great majority of Black people saw as the path to freedom and fair
treatment. In pre-confederation Ontario, the Black community, demonstrated a keen interest
in educating their children and were prepared to go the extra mile to realize their ambitions in
this respect. For example, when Black students were refused admission to an integrated
school in Hamilton supported in part by taxes levied on the Black community, the city’s
“Negro residents . . . petitioned the Governor General” (Winks, 1997, p. 367) in October
1843 seeking redress.

The fervor for school building in Black communities, notwithstanding the meager
resources at hand, attests to a high level of commitment to education. Hiram Wilson, a
powerful advocate of Black education in Upper Canada is said to have borrowed $10,000 in
1836 for the purpose of advancing vocational education. Together with other Black leaders,
Wilson, acquired 200 acres in the Chatham area for the sum of $800. There, he established a

32
school that specialized in vocational training, which Black leaders saw as crucial to securing
employment and ultimately their economic emancipation (Winks, 1997).

In Preston, Nova Scotia in November 1787, the Black community braved severe
weather conditions to build a school for 20 students. Though rough-hewn, the school was
viewed as adequate to teaching Black students how "to read, write and do simple sums, and
to sew" (Winks, 1997, p. 58). In Digby, Nova Scotia in 1811, 120 members of the local
Black militia graduated from a community school (Winks, 1997); and in Vesuvius in the
British Northwest, John Craven Jones, together with Frederick D. Lester, established, in
1864, a school for Black children. Though never remunerated for his services until 1869 or
1870, Jones would travel to remote settlements to instruct students, many of them too poor to
afford an education.

The above examples, taken from Upper Canada, Nova Scotia and the British
Northwest, illustrate one fact: even in difficult times, Black communities went the extra mile
to provide their children with the best education possible given their means. But, whereas
Black Canadians saw education, however segregated, as a way to empower themselves, their
White counterparts viewed segregated education, which they imposed on Black communities,
as a way to deny them the knowledge required to critique structures of power and demand
fair treatment.

2.5. Segregated Schools:

Keeping Black Canadians “Uneducated”

Canada’s education system has often been celebrated as inclusive, meritocratic, and
color-blind (Mansfield & Kehoe, 1994), notwithstanding the fact that segregated education
was once commonplace in some many parts of the country. Today, Canada is presented as
something for which Black Canadians, often characterized as immigrants, ought to be
grateful given that it promotes multiculturalism, tolerance of difference, and a cooperative
ethos. Moreover, Canada's greatness, it is often argued, lies in the opportunities it affords its
Black population. The latter is signified in the person of Michaelle Jean, a "descendant of

33
African slaves" (Clarke as cited in Cooper, 2006, p. xi) and the country’s first Lieutenant
Governor (2005 – 2010) to be both female and Black. While Ms. Jean's appointment is not
without significance for the Black community, it masks the existence of hundreds of Black
women with the potential to hold high office but who are denied the opportunity owing to the
various forms of segregated education that have been imposed on Black communities.

The view held by mainstream media and critics, namely that the principal aim of AE
lies in discouraging White children from attending TAAS is entirely at odds with the
historical record, which clearly illustrates that integrated schools have been traditionally
viewed by Whites as a threat to a pristine White culture and moral values. What follows
places segregated schools in Upper Canada in historical context, the purpose being to show
they were the brainchild of White Canadians (Winks, 1997).

In Upper Canada, White anxiety regarding integrated schools ran deep. In a letter to
Egerton Ryerson, the Provincial Superintendent of Education, Isaac Rice, writing in January
1864, reports: the local school trustees have declared that rather than enroll their children in a
“school with niggers, they will cut their children’s heads off and throw them into the road
side ditch" (Winks, 1997, p. 368). In Colchester, the Inspector of Schools summed up what
he considered to be the White population’s views on integrated schools: "Everyone is willing
that the Blacks should have their children well taught if only it can be done without their
[children] associating with [White children]” (Winks, 1997, p. 375). For their part, some
Black leaders in Upper Canada chose to support separate schools, having despaired of ever
"attain [ing] equal standards [in education]" (Winks, 1997, p. 366). This degree of
resignation was, however, far from universal. Thus, for example, Blacks residing in Elgin,
supported by the Black community in Niagara, counter-petitioned against separate schools
(Winks, 1997). And Henry Bibbs’ disavowal of separate schools would doubtless have
found a sympathetic ear in Samuel Gridley Howe who criticized Ryerson for encouraging
what he called "caste schools" (Winks, 1997, p. 372).

Ultimately, Black communities would opt for separate rather than integrated schools,
primarily for two reasons: the first was the unmitigated hostility on the part of Whites to

34
integrating schools, something Whites feared would be a first step in closing the achievement
gap between the races; the second was the opportunity presented Black communities to exert
complete control over the education of their children.

2.6. The Separate School Act (1850) and Segregated Education

The Separate School Act of 1850 was an expression of White supremacy cloaked in
religion and endorsed by the British North America Act of 1867 (McLaren, 1986), which
made it impossible to repeal other than by Legislative Order or judicial intervention. Repeal
would have been exceedingly unlikely, however, given the political imperative to pander to
the White vote and the stigma attached to any politician or judge who dared act contrary to
the wishes of the White majority. The rejection of court actions brought by Blacks—Hill v.
Camden, Simmons v. Chatham, Stewart v. Sandwich, Dunn v. Windsor—seeking judicial
redress to, and relief from, segregation in public schools testifies to the White opposition to
racial integration existing at the time (as cited in Winks, 1997).

The Separate School Act was not without serious implications for racial relations. It
hardened racist attitudes toward Black Canadians by confirming them as an inferior people
with no concept of White values or appreciation for the importance of education. The Act
served to naturalize even further a hierarchal order, the violation of which would, from the
standpoint of the White Canadian public, have constituted a breach of the divinely ordained
order wherein Whites occupied the highest position (Winks, 1997).

Even though certain public officials, most notably Egerton Ryerson, were thought “to
be a genuine friend of the Negro" (Winks, 1997, p. 369), few were willing to advocate, at
least openly, on behalf of integrated schools. Touted as a champion of the Black cause and
progressive education reform, Ryerson privately promoted separate education. When Black
communities complained that public schools were denying Black children admission and
accused Reverend Robert Paden for doing little by way of redress, Ryerson supported Paden,
demanding that the Black community offer proof that "[the] schools denied Black children

35
admission based on the color of [their] skin" (Winks, 1997, p. 368). And when he instructed
the Black community to submit proof that Black children were being discriminated against
on the basis of race, Ryerson knew full well that such action on their part would prove futile.
Instead, he advised them to "prosecute for damages" (Winks, 1997, p. 369) and to have faith
that "Christian and British feeling" (Winks, 1997, p. 369) would prevail over racial
discrimination. Moreover, in requesting that separate schools receive "special privileges,"
without specifying their nature, Ryerson was engaging in what amounts to ‘official speak,’
the aim of which was to assuage Black discontent while doing nothing practical to remedy it.

The way Ryerson engaged the Black community mirrored the approach to deferring
racial equality that White officialdom would adopt; both believed privately that the cause of
Black freedom and dignity would have to await the pleasure of the Crown and Church,
however long that might take. Yet even though he supported segregated schools, Ryerson
was careful to avoid culpability by, among other things, assuring the Black community that
he had "exerted all the power [he] possessed, and employed all the persuasion [he] could
command" in its service, adding that "the prejudices and feelings of the people [White
Canadians] are stronger than the law" (Winks, 1997, p. 369). Here, Ryerson saw an
opportunity and used it to his advantage. To further thwart the educational aspirations of
Black Canadians, Ryerson, in 1859, ordered school trustees to establish "any kind of
schooling they deemed best adapted to the social conditions of their respective communities"
(Winks, 1997, p. 370), in effect providing them a carte blanche to exclude Black children.

According to Axelrod (1997), one of the primary goals of nineteenth century

Canadian education was to advance “the educational interests of Protestants and Catholics, . .
. French and English Canadians. . . . Other groups reflecting the population’s diversity—
Native peoples, Blacks, and the new wave of European immigrants—were subject to
education edicts that stressed the virtues and cultural uniformity over cultural
accommodation” (p. 69).

This policy, Axelrod asserts, fostered a climate of “paternalism, prejudice, and policy
expediency [where minorities were concerned]” (Axelrod, 1997, p. 69). According to

36
Axelrod, the principal aim of the Separate School Act lay in baring students hailing from
these groups from common schools located in areas where alternative provisions did not exist
(Axelrod, 1997). On the basis of Axelrod’s analysis, it can be argued that racism was a
distinctive feature of Canadian education during its formative years.

According to Houston and Prentice (1998), racism directed by Whites against Black
students was not a manifestation of ignorance or rowdiness, but rather a standard practice
tolerated and in some cases promoted and/or incited by White establishments. Houston and
Prentice (1988) cite H.F. Douglass, editor of the Provincial Freeman to highlight the impact
the Separate School Act had on Black students. Douglass describes Ontario’s separate
schools as “dark and hateful relics of Yankee Negrophobia” (as cited in p. 298), where “. . .
Black students are taught by [the] least-qualified teachers” (p. 300). The position of Black
students was summed up in an editorial that appeared in the Toronto Leader, “a respected
conservative newspaper,” on December 12, 1862:

There is no use in trying to turn a stream against its head. Black children
could only feel uncomfortable in their existing circumstances: the teachers
lacked sympathy (‘to use no harsher term’), and their schoolmates called them
names. . . .” (pp. 301-302)

White opposition to integrated schooling, according to Ontario’s Chief Justice,

Beverley Robinson, went beyond race:

The prejudices of the White population ‘arise’ . . . ‘perhaps not so much from
the mere fact of difference of colour, as from the apprehension that the
children of the coloured people, many of whom have but lately escaped from a
state of slavery, may be, in respect to morals and habits, unfortunately worse
trained than White children are in general and that their children might suffer
from the effects of bad example (as cited in Houston & Prentice, 1988, p.
302).

While some public records reveal that Toronto was less inimical toward Black
students than other jurisdictions and that city officials, along with the Toronto Board of
Common School Trustees, supported integrated schools, some even praising Black students
for their achievements on “competitive examinations” (Houston & Prentice, 1988, p. 301),

37
such toleration as did exist in no way moderated the treatment meted out to Black students by
teachers, sometimes with the approval of school administrators. Lucy Greaves, for example,
a Black girl who attended a series of Toronto schools between the “spring and fall of 1859”
(p. 301) was expelled from the “Victoria Street [School] before she could enroll in a school
on Phoebe Street in the fall.” Her teacher, “Miss Round, cited Greaves’ “bad habits and . . .
exceedingly bad [communication style]” (p. 301) as reasons for her expulsion. The school
superintendent, though never officially informed on this matter, supported Miss Round’s
decision. Following this incident, he would issue “Rule 13, (which provided [justifiable
grounds] for the expulsion of students prone to habitual disobedience and ‘hopeless of
reformation’)” (p. 301).

It is also worth noting that despite the many challenges facing Ontario’s Black
communities and families, a small number of Black schools achieved an educational standard
equal or superior to their well-resourced White counterparts. Archival records reveal that the
“coloured school [in St Catharines] was the best furnished with maps and had the best
[t]eacher in [t]own” (Houston & Prentice, 1988, p. 300). According to some accounts, some
Black schools proved “so successful that White parents enrolled their children in them.
Brantford was just such a case in the late 1830s; and the superiority of the Buxton school in
the 1950s (part of William King’s Elgin settlement) drew students, [W]hite and Black, from
across the province and from the United States” (Houston & Prentice, 1988, p. 300). What is
noteworthy about these two accounts is that despite all the constraints, these Black
communities, by virtue of their collective spirit and determination, made the unthinkable
possible. More importantly, the success of these schools, signifies the importance Black
parents attached to educating their children, something that today is often ignored.

2.7. Multicultural Education:

What Is It?

The Multiculturalism Act of 1988 redefined Canada as a nation committed to

promoting diversity in all its forms—religious, cultural, ethnic, racial, linguistic and so on.

38
The country was to be transformed into a multicultural state where conflicts would be
resolved through dialogue. Multicultural education (ME) would play a leading role in
realizing this vision by offering curricula that reflected the experiences and contributions of
minorities, including Blacks.

ME is predicated on the assumption that bringing together students of disparate race

and culture will create an inclusive atmosphere, one that will foster an appreciation of
Canada’s history and diversity (Fleras & Elliott, 1992). As an educational policy, however, it
lacks a clear conceptual definition and demarcation, leaving its definition and goals subject to
varying interpretations “that often confound attempts to define a common purpose, or indeed,
any meaningful expression of political solidarity among its avowed supporters toward social
justice” (Lund, 2009, p. 35).

Fleras and Elliott (1992) defines ME thus:

An organized effort to accommodate and manage racial and ethnic diversity as

an integral component of the school system … [that] openly acknowledges
ethnocultural variation, recognizes its validity within the educational
environment, and reaffirms its role in the formulation of philosophy,
objectives, content, and delivery of services to students. (p. 187)

What stands out here is the epithet “organized effort” and the purported aim to “manage
racial and ethnic diversity.” This kind of language suggests that ME is committed less to
addressing the achievement gap in public education, which would require deep-seated
reform, and more to creating a veneer of interracial, interethnic, and intercultural harmony
(Lund, 2009). Critics view ME to be symbolic in its orientation rather than transformative.
Thus, according to Lund, “it is characterized as consisting of short-term programs and
supplemental curricular material designed to cause attitudinal change in individual students
and teachers” (Lund, 2009, p. 39), leaving intact White values that suffuse the curriculum
and pedagogy. ME, the critics contend, constitutes little more than “prejudice reduction
strategies” (Lund, 2009, p. 40) targeted at reducing “ignorance of other cultures [for the
purpose of promoting] greater cultural harmony” (Lynch as cited in Lund, 2009, p. 40).

39
 Black discontent with Toronto’s public education system would continue to simmer
during the 1990s, a period of major demographic change, marked by rapid growth in the
city’s minority populations. Changing demographics had not, according to Dei et al. (1997),
led to much needed educational reforms, however; and, in particular, the curriculum had not
been overhauled with a view to reflecting the current racial and cultural composition of a
school system wherein Black Canadians "ma[de] up 10% of the . . . population" (Johnson,
2013, p. 5). Despite calls from Black parents for greater representation—e.g., greater
numbers of Black teachers/staff to match the growing numbers of Black students—little
would be done then, or in the future, to address their demands (Dei et al., 1997).

Meanwhile, disaffected Black students would continue to underperform. For some

educators and critics, the problem lay with Black families; for Black parents, a Eurocentric
school curriculum was at fault (James & Brathwaite, 1996). The latter argued that ME
offered little in the way of intercultural education and dialogue and that formulating and
implementing equitable policies, e.g., the hiring of more Black teachers and staff to whom
Black students could relate and who understand the challenges they faced both at school and
at home, lay beyond its scope (Cummins, 1997; Dei et al., 1997; Goodall, 1996; James &
Brathwaite, 1996). Black parents also called into question the commonly held perception that
ME is predicated upon diversity—a view shared by Lund (1998) and Mansfield and Kehoe
(1994). Whose version of events, they asked, gets to be presented as legitimate knowledge,
and how does such knowledge impact Black students?

For critics, the high dropout rate among Black students speaks to the failure of ME.
Rather than allocate scarce resources to addressing this central problem, the mainstream
school system panders, they contend, to ethnic sensibilities by, among other things,
promoting the singing of ethnic songs, the sharing of ethnic foods, and the performing of
ethnic dances, meanwhile deferring the very reforms that could address the disaffection and
underperformance of Black students, such as incorporating into the school curriculum
African-centred courses that challenge the incongruities in Western thought (Dei et al.,
1997).

40
2.8. Multicultural Education in Practice:
White Teachers and Black Students’ Alienation

By examining the attitudes of White teachers toward Black students, I wish, not to tar
all with the same brush, but to single out those who, several studies have shown (Dei et al.,
1997; Kong, 1996), harbour an animosity toward their charges that has no place in the
classroom (Dei et al., 1997). The object here is to tease out a relationship that has been
shaped by cross-cultural misunderstandings, which have resulted in negative learning
outcomes for Black students. I begin this section with Mark's story, a narrative that reflects
the experience of so many Black students who struggle daily in the mainstream public school
system.

For the first month of classes, ‘Mark,’ (a pseudonym), a Grade 2 Black student,
worked alone at his desk despite the teacher’s injunction that all students were to work in
pairs. By the second month, the teacher was growing increasingly concerned over this
student’s anti-social behaviour, which she attributed to an “adjustment problem” (Roberts-
Fiati, 1996, p. 75), a term used arbitrarily by White teachers to describe any failure on the
part of Black students to respond to classroom routines and learning in a positive way. The
real problem, however, lay not with Mark but with his White classmates who refused to
partner with him; and so it was that he continued to work alone, all the while expecting one
of them would eventually join him. His was an experience all too familiar for Black students
attending mainstream public schools (Roberts-Fiati, 1996).

The events described above highlight how in the mainstream public school system
race and culture come to mediate the Black experience. This is, I would argue, no isolated
instance of refractory White students willfully ignoring a teacher’s instructions. Both
students and teacher were in various ways complicit in perpetuating a standard racial
representation; in their eyes Mark, like all Black children, was somehow tainted and thus
undesirable. Raby (2004) asserts that “[White] teachers and students often downplay “the
personal relevance of “race . . . through the erasure of race itself” (p. 371), even though their
actions foster an atmosphere of racial intolerance. Rather than deal with the problem head-

41
on, the teacher chose instead to ignore it, owing to a reluctance to talk about race or perhaps a
conviction that it was irrelevant in the classroom and that to address it would require
interrogating her own dominant attitude and that of her White students.

Kong’s experience as a Black student attending a predominantly White school speaks

to the lack of empathy, and in some cases overt hostility, that often characterizes relations
between White teachers and their Black charges (Kong, 1996). This student’s self-esteem
was shattered when her Grade 3 teacher announced before a group of her peers that she
“would never amount to anything” (Kong, 1996, p. 60). This incident highlights the
differential treatment in the school system. Perceiving the school environment to be
detrimental to their sense of personhood and self-esteem, many Black students choose to
drop out, others to detach themselves psychologically.

Dei et al., (1997) contest the wholesale use of the term “dropout” to describe Black
students’ experience in the public education system. In their view, the term “pushed out”
more accurately captures that experience (p. 36). Students who get “pushed out” of school
are not averse to education knowing the future that awaits the uneducated: fewer job
opportunities and a life of crime. Dei et al., (1997) attribute the “pushed out” phenomenon to
the lack of support afforded ‘at risk’ students by “school agents (teachers, guidance
counsellors, administrators” (p. 70), who are less responsive, indeed indifferent, to the
adverse experiences of students. According to disaffected students, their identity hinders their
success; thus, they are denied adequate support by the school based on their race. In the
words of one student, the high dropout rate in the public education system is due, in part, to a
prevailing “network of disinterest” (p. 72) that leaves the disadvantaged to their own devices,
which invariably leads to their dropping out of school.

Critics of the mainstream school system often target a racism that appears to be both
endemic and pervasive, blighting the youngest and most innocent in particular (Roberts-Fiati,
1996). The defense put forward by the school authorities, i.e. that the experiences of the
Marks and Kongs are anomalous and thus in no way reflect what is really going on in the
classroom, serve only to reveal a discomfort with having to deal with racism and racialized

42
students. For Mark’s teacher to attribute his behaviour to an “adjustment problem” (Roberts-
Fiati, 1996, p. 75) stemming from some unspecified cultural deficiency is to shift the focus
from race to culture, thus reproducing the illusion of a race-free classroom while reassuring
Black parents who would rather believe that the teacher knows best and has the best interest
of the student at heart.

The Toronto public school system continues unwittingly to accommodate ideologies

that are racist in terms of their orientation or implications. For example, Social Darwinism,
which places people of African descent at the lowest “point of the evolutionary scale”
(Boykin, 1986, p. 59), is one of many race-based theories to inform, to varying degrees,
school textbooks. Educated at dominant institutions of higher learning, where it is not
unusual for treatises on race and intelligence (Rushton & Jensen, 2005; 2003) to inform,
however tangentially, lectures, class discussions and debates, teachers may, to a greater or
lesser degree, come to hold certain assumptions regarding the racialized ‘other’ that they
bring to the classroom, e.g., the notion that Black students are low achievers (Dei et al.,
1997).

On November 9, 2011, I spoke for 1 hour before a group of students in the Teacher
Education program at a university in British Columbia, on the subject of social justice in
education. I began by asking the audience, which was predominantly White, to record on a
slip of paper, and in as few words as possible, what they thought of Africa and Africans. The
goal of the exercise was to demonstrate that despite the best of intentions, teachers and
students can inadvertently perpetuate racial stereotypes. The key descriptors randomly
selected from the responses submitted by seven students are:

• Student 1: Continent, poverty, safari

• Student 2: Black, desert, and dependent on Christian help
• Student 3: Safaris, huge continent, extreme poverty in some areas, lots of people
• Student 4: Safari, animals, poverty, hunger, heat, AIDS, Black
• Student 5: Small, uneducated population, comprised mainly of Black people
• Student 6: Continent, underdeveloped part of the world with great poverty

43
 • Student 7: Diversity, different cultural traditions, marginalized, sometimes
discriminated against or treated differently, not a lot known because not taught.

Invariably, these key terms conjure up images of the ‘dark continent’ and of its
inhabitants that work to reinforce racial stereotypes, which find their way into the classroom.
Africa is signified as a basket case, its achievements of no account, its people devoid of
agency. Consistent with mainstream myths, Africans are presented as uneducated, poverty-
stricken and disease-ridden “Black” peoples, antipathetic to modernity and wholly dependent
upon “Christian help,” presumably in the form of foreign aid provided by the West. Thus are
Africa and Africans signified in ways that reinforce White exceptionality and that would
have been familiar to Europeans during what was the heyday of colonialism.

Neocolonial narratives, while for the most part false, valorize the West as the savior
of Africa, signified as a vast expanse of

parched earth and starving famine victims, unsanitary hospitals [strewn with
victims bleeding from their orifices from Ebola], . . . village huts . . . dying
AIDS victims, ethnic conflicts, marauding rebels and civil war victims . . . and
desperate refuges and economic migrants trying to get into Western countries
. . . [and] open desert or jungle filled with exotic animals, a location for
adventure, . . . an empty space . . . devoid of . . . people . . . or a tabula rasa
with natives vaguely located [in the] background . . . filling out the picture or
as local guides. (Wright, 2012, pp. 182-183)

Thus is Africa relegated to a position outside the realm of civilization, its contributions to
science, education, commerce, governance, and world civilization ignored, and Africans
denied a voice.

What I glean from the above is that Western discourses on Africa and Africans are
wholly lacking in objectivity and rigor; rather, they serve to advance a neocolonial project
that dismisses African ingenuity while underscoring Africa’s indebtedness to the colonial
centre, the locus of White power and source of Black oppression. In its subtlest forms,
according to Wright, neocolonialism is promoted with a missionary zeal worthy of its
purported humanitarian project of rescuing Africans from a culture of fatalism and
debauchery that underpins their wretched existence.

44
 According to Smith, the power that the West possesses to take events and ideas out of
their historical context, frame them in ways that advance Western interests and then present
them as universal narratives “rule[s] out [any] consideration of alternative representations
[that might explicate] . . . African conditions” (Smith as cited in Wright, 2012, p. 183).
According to Kanneh, current Western discourses on Africa draw on a long colonial tradition
of representation predicated on “. . . a firm pre-knowledge of the inferiority and savagery of
the peoples of the empire and the harshness and the danger of their environment, both in need
of naming and taming . . .” (Kanneh as cited in Wright, 2012, p. 184). What passes for
knowledge of Africans and Africa in Western institutions in general, and primary and
elementary education in particular, I would argue, is derived from the playbook of
“nineteenth century colonial narratives that portray Africa as inhabited by barbarians or
‘natural slaves’ and as the White man’s burden” (Smith as cited in Wright, 2012, p. 184).

In "Transforming teacher education for an antiracism pedagogy" Solomon and

Levine-Rasky (1996) criticize mainstream teachers for conceptualizing antiracist education
in the narrowest terms. The following remarks convey a sense of what anti-racist education
means to most teachers.

I haven’t learned much about the term, but antiracism to me would mean that
someone tries not to be racist, but not necessarily becoming multicultural . . .
You would not have to let your bias show, even though you may not
necessarily believe in multiculturalism (p. 342).

I don’t have a real hook on what’s going on in Sri Lanka. I have travelled somewhat
but I can’t really say, “Oh, I understand so and so from your background. This would
be done this way,” because I don’t know (p. 342).

It is apparent from the above excerpts that for these two teachers, and likely many of
their colleagues, antiracist education requires bringing to bear an “additive” pedagogy aimed
at placating racialized students, rather than providing a “corrective” (Solomon & Levine-
Rasky, 1996, p. 342) to reproducing racism both within and outside the school. Possessing
little understanding of the substantive problems confronting Black students, most teachers,
one can only assume, are “hardly [capable] of contribut[ing] to a significant learning

45
experience, … [or inculcating] knowledge, skills or understanding,” (Tator & Henry as cited
in Harper, 1997, p. 200) at least where Black students are concerned.

Acutely aware that their lived experience is viewed as inconsequential and their
persons stereotyped, Black students become disaffected, estranged from a school system they
view as offering little possibility for a better future (Dei, 1996b; Calliste, 1996; Kong, 1996).
And even though some teachers are deeply committed to securing social justice for Black
students, there are also many, who, with the tacit support of school authorities steeped in the
politics of the school system, turn a blind eye to the way some teachers conduct themselves
in the classroom. Rather than admit the prominent role of race in determining educational
outcomes for Black students and join in the fight against differential treatment, dominant
teachers remain passive and complacent, thus helping to perpetuate Black student
disaffection (Brathwaite, 1996; Dei et al., 1997). It is all too often the case, moreover, that
racism couched in free speech, along with the habit of making light of racist practices,
projections and innuendo (Dei, 1996b; Kong, 1996; Niemonen, 2007), works to undermine
student confidence and in the process fosters alienation (Roberts-Fiati, 1996).

According Dei et al., (1997), the majority of teachers draw a sharp distinction
between the school environment and the home life of students, with the result that they come
to view the problems confronting students in both these spheres to be unrelated in terms of
both their causes and remedies. Embedded in this public-private dichotomy is the
assumption that each space should function independently and not encroach on the other—a
view at odds with one of the foundational beliefs upon which TAAS is predicated, namely,
that it takes a village to raise a child. It is not surprising, then, that conservative White
teachers often attribute underachievement on the part of Black students to the type of
socialization and acculturation undergone in homes and communities where teenage
pregnancy, households headed by "slovenly welfare mothers" (Henry, 1993, p. 209), and
absentee fathers are the norm (Dei et al., 1997, Dei, 2008; Henry, 1993)—and all this despite
a large body of evidence indicating that disaffected students can perform above expectations
if given the requisite opportunities and support (Lewis, 2009).

46
 According to Solomon (1995), student success or failure is contingent upon how
teachers view the root causes of underperformance by Black students. Whereas conservative
teachers attribute this phenomenon to a lack of individual effort (Dei et al. 1997; Solomon,
1995), for Dei et al., (1997), the true cause lies largely with indifference on their part to the
lived reality of Black students. Dei et al., (1997) attribute this attitude to a lack of
understanding of Black culture and/or a reluctance on the part of White teachers to involve
themselves in matters they deem to lie outside their professional milieu and within the private
sphere of the family. Moreover, for White teachers in the mainstream public school system,
any discussion of student underachievement is seen as “extremist, divisive, strident,
confrontational, ideological, radical, and antithetical to… multicultural [education]”
(Solomon & Levine-Rasky, 1996, p. 338) and thus to be eschewed.

Research shows that conservative White teachers, who tend to have low expectations
of Black students, very seldom offer them support; instead, they brand them as trouble-
makers, as so many lost causes to be left to their own devices (Dei et al., 1997; Solomon,
1995). This kind of attitude leads these teachers to ignore the struggles Black students must
endure daily, a recognition of which would represent the first step along the path to
establishing a teacher-student dialogue—or for that matter a teacher-parent dialogue. Such is
impossible, however, given the imperative “not to hear the voices of other races or [go
beyond maintaining] a tepid cultural tolerance for hearing or acting on [other people’s]
voices… [or to] suffer seriously from anything that darker-skinned people might say about
[Whites]” (McIntosh, 1986, p. 7).

2.9. Black Students and Streaming

Notwithstanding the popular belief that the principle of racial equality informs every
facet of the public school system, a number of studies show that racism permeates the school
system, mediating the Black student experience (Dei et al., 1997; James & Brathwaite, 1996;
James, 2011; James, 2005). According to Boykin (1994), attributing disaffection and
underperformance on the part of Black students to some inherent defect or propensity is to

47
paint a false picture of their experiences in the classroom. For one thing, it ignores external
factors (Dei, 1995; James & Brathwaite, 1996), e.g., a Eurocentric, i.e., dominant,
educational model that promotes assimilation and a school system that enforces policies
specifying what is to be taught and how in accordance with that model (Boykin, 1994).
Inevitably, the goal of the school system, i.e., to teach students how to read, write, learn and
think about prescribed concepts in preparation for life in a neo-liberal world, often conflicts
with Black students’ best interests (Boykin, 1994; Dei, 1995; Kong, 1996). This conflict,
which often goes unresolved, is in some cases dealt with by funneling recalcitrant students
into special education and/or sports programs—these being deemed most efficacious to
preserving whatever remains of their much diminished “self-confidence” and “pride” (James
& Brathwaite, 1996, p. 20).

In the mainstream public school system, race and class remain the principal
determinants for streaming Black students into vocational, technical, English development
skills or sports programs (Calliste, 1996; Dei et al., 1997; James & Brathwaite, 1996; James,
2005, 2011). With Black student underperformance foremost in mind, guardian counsellors
often advise Black parents to enroll their children in vocational or technical programs—and
at a far greater rate than is the case for White students—with no thought given the inequities
pervading the school system and their impact on educational outcomes (Dei et al., 1997).

While the practice of streaming has a legitimate place in the school system, one must
question its disproportionate application to Black students and its use to reduce their high
dropout rates, not to mention the costs. Streamed away from their friends and placed in non-
academic programs, students come to feel discriminated against, and as a result adopt
behaviours—refusing to study, acting out, truancy and dropping out of school—that further
jeopardize their already slim hopes for success (Dei et al., 1997).

As is the case with streaming, the TDSB 'catchment zone' provision denies Black
students from low-income neighbourhoods equal access to quality education. Using area
codes to determine in which school(s) a student can be enrolled, this provision effectively
prevents Black students from poor communities from attending schools in wealthy areas of

48
the city, i.e., schools with the requisite resources—highly proficient teachers, up-to-date
libraries and well-equipped science labs—to help them succeed. While the ‘catchment zone’
provision may be deemed essential to preempting logistical problems, such as over-
enrolment in any given school, it could just as easily be viewed as promoting school
segregation. It would appear that regardless of the lip-service paid the principle of racial
equality in the context of the school system, racist educational policies—‘catchment zones,’
gifted programs and advance placement courses—however subtle, still exist.

Johnson (2013) writes of an invisible racial iron curtain that has descended upon the
Toronto public school system, dividing the privileged and underprivileged:

Toronto comprises a high-income downtown core (20% of the population)

with an array of public and private educational options; more diverse but
shrinking middle-class neighborhoods in the surrounding ring (29% of the
population); and low-income and working-class residents who live on the
periphery of the city (53% of the population), [who] are disproportionately
Black, Chinese, and South Asian, and [who] must contend with . . . little
educational choice. (p. 16)

Johnson points to “differential housing costs” as the driver of demographic change that began
in the 1970s:

[The] residential patterns [are] driven by differential housing costs [leading to]
growing segregation by income and race in Toronto over the last 40 years.
Central city neighborhoods have become increasing White (82% and
wealthier, and outlaying neighborhoods in the northwestern and north[ern]
parts of the city… have incorporated a larger percentage of “visible minorities
(66%), immigrants (61%), and families in poverty (30%). (p. 5)

From Johnson’s (2013) analysis there emerges the spectre of urban ghettoization by
race and income, a process with obvious implications for the provision of equal education.
Thus, for example, while students in Rosedale, who are predominantly White, can access
good public schools, which translates into positive learning outcomes, Black students in
Toronto's low income neighbourhoods, e.g., the Jane and Finch and Rexdale areas, must do
with outdated facilities and less-than-proficient teachers—a recipe for student
underperformance and disaffection. The greater educational opportunities available to

49
students residing in middle-class neighbourhoods provides them with a ‘better shot’ in life
vis-à-vis their less privileged peers.

The disparity in learning outcomes between Black and White students can also be
explained by the Bourdieu cultural capital theory, which holds that the majority White
students begin their educational odyssey with ample “cultural capital (i.e., home education
. . .), social capital (i.e., social networks . . .), and economic capital (i.e., money and other
material possessions) which can be acquired two ways, from one’s family and/or through
formal schooling” (Yosso, 2005, p. 76). This capital is crucial to student performance and
“social mobility” (Yosso, 2005, p. 76). Applying Bourdieu’s framework to examining the
superior performance of White students reveals a key factor underlying their academic
success: the standardization of White education and cultural values and their diffusion
throughout the curriculum, providing White students a crucial edge in terms of acquiring
“knowledge, skills and abilities that are valued by privileged groups in society” (Yosso,
2005, p. 76). This kind of advantage, Yosso (2005) argues, is either scarce or entirely absent
in poor neighbourhoods where the cultural capital students do possess is deemed either
irrelevant or counterproductive to acquiring a standard education.

2.10. The School Curriculum and Eurocentric Knowledge

This section opens with a discussion on how the school curriculum works to
normalize White privilege and hold it up as a universal ideal. As Wihak (2004) points out
“White privilege stems from [the] invisible systems of [White] dominance” (p. 110). The
odiousness of White privilege is the heavy burden its places on “moving [any discussion on
the term] beyond an intellectual and conceptual understanding of racial issues to an
experiential and affective change” (p. 110). A White (privileged) curriculum allows White
people, in the context of my research, to live in “comfortable obliviousness [cultivating] a
dull indifference to the question of race . . .” (p. 110). Privileged by a colonial school system
and an ideological curriculum, White students are unaware of the discrimination their
privileged status; e.g. history, inflict on the learning outcome of Black students. Privileged,

50
“Whites are taught to think of their lives as morally neutral, normative, and average, and also
ideal, so that when we work to benefit others, this is seen as work that allow “them” to be
more like us (McIntosh, 1986, p. 3). Narrating her privileged experience as White person,
McIntosh argues “through the curriculum, [and mass media]…[she] received daily signals
and indications that [her heritage] counted and that others either didn’t exist or must be
trying, not very successfully, to be like people of [her] race [emphasis in original]” (p. 7).

Fine (1994) hypothesizes that the mainstream curriculum bears the hallmark of
cultural imperialism in that what passes for knowledge is filtered and framed to reflect a
European Weltanschauung, thus excluding alternative worldviews. This is consistent with
Dei’s (1994) view of teaching as a political act, the purpose of which lies in indoctrinating
students with the dominant ideology and worldview. An important part of this program lies
in denying racialized students agency by, among other things, either ignoring or denigrating
the achievements and contributions of the civilizations from which they hail. This obverse
process of internalizing the dominant worldview, along with the values, attitudes and
assumptions that sustain it, i.e., ideology, while disparaging the ‘other’ is played out in the
curriculum.

Henry (1993) supports Fine (1994) and Dei’s (1994) view of the school curriculum.
"No knowledge,” she writes, “is neutral. Rather all knowledge flows from ideological
assumptions" (Henry, 1993, p. 209). This perspective is shared by Ladner, who argues that
mainstream knowledge reflects the ideology of the larger society, which more often than not
excludes the “lifestyles, values, behavior, attitudes and so forth from a body of data that is
used to define, describe, conceptualize and theorize about the structure and functions of . . .
society" (as cited in Henry, 1993, pp. 209-210).

Applying Ladner's analysis to knowledge production, I would argue that the absence
of Black contributions from the curriculum is in no way inadvertent, but rather part of a
project aimed at hierarchizing knowledge systems, while at the same time privileging and
naturalizing official historical narratives—all with a view to sustaining the dominant, i.e.,
White, order. Notes Cooper:

51
 Canadian history, insofar as its Black history is concerned, is a drama
punctuated with disappearing acts . . . consistent with the general behaviour of
the official chroniclers of the country's past. Black history is treated as a
marginal subject. In truth, it has been bulldozed and ploughed over, slavery in
particular . . . Slavery has disappeared from Canada's historical chronicles,
erased from its memory and banished to the dungeons of its past (Cooper,
2006, p. 7).

2.11. Multicultural Curriculum:

Whose History Passes for Knowledge?

Winks (1997) captures a sense of the selectivity that is a hallmark of the school
curriculum. Most Canadian textbooks, according to this author, make no mention of pre-
confederation Black history. The few that do acknowledge a Black presence during this
period, however pithily, refer to Black pioneers incorrectly as "fugitive slave[s]" who
journeyed to what is now Canada via the Underground Railroad. In an effort to rehabilitate
Canadian history, most mainstream textbooks ignore White Canada’s general disapproval of,
and often hostility to, Black immigrants hailing from the United States—and this despite the
plethora of published material giving voice to these attitudes. Writing in 1842, C.D. Owen,
for example, describes Blacks as "perpetually begging and receiving charity . . . yet . . .
neither prosperous nor useful" (as cited Winks, 1997, p. 363).

Describing the public education system as a battlefield, Fleras and Elliott (1992) posit
that “powerful forces and entrenched interests are unlikely to tolerate significant changes [to
Eurocentric education] without considerable resistance and foot-dragging. Changes, when
they do occur [are likely to be] restricted to the cosmetic, and kept away from the key
domains of decision-making, agenda-setting, and power” (pp. 188–189) leaving an ever-
widening gap between dominant and racialized communities.

According to Fleras and Elliott (1992), the "[Canadian] education system reflects a
basic and fundamental commitment to monoculturalism," (p. 183) with little consideration
given alternative knowledge systems. Contrary to its original objective of promoting
intercultural understanding, ME dispenses dominant knowledge and values (Dei et al., 1997;

52
Dei, 1995)—all the while celebrating Black History Month (BHM) in an effort to preempt
calls for curriculum reform. And what precise purpose is a BHM that reduces the long history
of Black Canadians to a few songs and dances supposed to perform apart from reinforcing
racial and cultural stereotypes and reducing Black history to cultural artifacts, while ignoring
substantive matters, such as the Black contribution to Canada?

For critics of ME, incorporating BHM into the curriculum cannot hope to transform
the classroom from a locus of domination into a pluralistic arena where ideas compete with
one another and diversity of thought is encouraged. Nor is it intended to, for its real purpose
lies in creating a semblance of diversity within the public school system—all with a view to
placating and pacifying Black students, parents, and their allies for whom the school system
has failed in meeting the educational needs of Black students. So truncated and diluted a
form of Black history cannot hope to address issues and concerns of real substance, such as
the racism at large in the Canadian body politic (see Shadd in James, 1995). And so BHM
will remain what it has always been: a tactical investment by the dominant order.

While proponents hail BHM as an exciting and innovative initiative, critics accuse it
of reifying Black identity and culture and excluding certain Black heroes, e.g., Malcolm X.
Why during BHM, they ask, are African-American male heroes, to take but one example,
overrepresented while Black women of heroic stature, such as Rosa Parks, receive mention
seemingly as an afterthought; and why are African heroes—Albert Luthuli, the Founding
Father of the African National Congress, Jomo Kenyatta, a leading anti-colonialist, Yaa
Asantewaa, the Queen Mother of the Asante Kingdom, who resisted the British occupation of
her homeland—underrepresented? The achievements of Yaa Asantewaa, in particular,
deserve to be celebrated at a time when African-Canadian students, and especially teenage
mothers, need role models to provide the inspiration and sense of pride, without which it is
impossible to resist the racism promoted in school textbooks.

Kaomea (2003) provides a lens through which the epistemic limits of BHM may be
examined. On the basis of her theoretical framework, which was used to analyze the benefits
to be derived from apprising indigenous Hawaiian students of their heritage, one may

53
surmise that discourses on Black History have often centred around African-American slaves
and personalities and the Civil Rights Movement at the expense of African heroes and
‘sheroes’ and their Caribbean counterparts—the few exception include, most notably,
Kwame Nkrumah, Nelson Mandela, Francois-Dominique Toussaint Louventure. The
celebration of BHM, which, for the most part focuses on the African-American experience,
tends to downplay the importance of African-Canadian history and contributions, and
particularly those in the area of social justice, e.g. the Civil Rights initiative on the part of the
Council on Group Relations in the 1940s and 1950s; The National Unity Association of
Chatham-Dresden-North Buxton; and the Negro Citizens' Association of Toronto. What
rights and freedoms Black Canadians enjoy today may be traced to the efforts of these and
other like-minded groups who fought tirelessly against discrimination in the workplace and
in the areas of housing and immigration policy. Ironically, however, many Blacks and Whites
credit the US Civil Rights Movement for these advances (see Shadd in James, 1995)

Admiration for all things Black comes with a caveat, however. While it is appropriate
that we should celebrate Black achievements, there lurks a danger in signifying Africa ad
infinitum as an unqualified success. To capture a full sense of the continent’s history, we
must not ignore the role of certain African kingdoms in facilitating and profiting from the
slave trade, or the appalling cruelty inflicted on Africans by Africans often and routinely. It is
essential that this sordid past be unearthed and exposed for what it is (Dei, 1993; Oyebade,
1990). BHM romanticizes an African past, by, among other things, playing down cultural
practices best described as barbaric, e.g., child betrothal, female genital mutilation, etc.,
Using critical frameworks to de-romanticize African history will enable Black students to put
into perspective their forebears’ achievements and assess them in a sober fashion; it will also
help them to understand the challenges facing the continent and the obstacles to be overcome
in addressing the problems. Thus will Black students be better prepared to counter the
Eurocentric view of Africans as 'primitives.’ Regrettably, BHM falls far short in showcasing
Africa’s substantive contribution to civilization, a view shared by multiculturalism’s critics
who argue it serves only to commodify African cultures by feeding the public’s appetite for
"voyeuristic pleasure" (Bissoondath, 1994, p. 83). The capitalistic dimension of BHM

54
evinced in the sale of cultural artifacts to the curious and voyeuristic obscures the full sweep
of African history, distorting what was and what is. The continent’s disparate cultures come
to resemble a homogenous coverlet. Essentializing Africa’s rich cultures through the tropes
of its architects and sponsors fosters an orientalist kind of reductionism and stereotyping.
Thus do Africa’s diverse cultures come to be seen as so much cultural art, albeit on an
enormous scale (Bissoondath, 1994).

2.12. Multicultural Education and Racist Representations

According to Dei, understanding the politics of ME and the Black student experience
requires interrogating the structures and administration of the public school system. In the
mainstream curriculum, Africa has become synonymous with “poverty images” (James &
Brathwaite, 1996, p. 23)—images that portray the continent, and especially sub-Saharan
Africa, as a blighted land frozen in time and in desperate need of ‘foreign intervention,’ a
term associated with Western humanitarian aid and the messianic notion that Africa can be
saved only by ridding itself of political leaders who are as corrupt as they are tyrannical and
subscribing to Western democratic values. Despite its very real achievements, the continent
continues to be perceived as a land plagued by HIV/AIDS, a disease viewed as responsible
for a burgeoning population of orphans kept alive by Western-based nongovernmental
organizations (NGOs). These representations find their way into the curriculum and class
discussions, not to mention social media, eroding the confidence of Black students and
undermining their appreciation of their heritage.

According to Boykin (1986), what passes for a multicultural curriculum is nothing

more than a compilation of dominant worldviews. The latter, Boykin writes, promote a
culture of hierarchy that conditions Black students not only to accept White-domination but
also to view a normalizing Whiteness as a universal model for personal development and
success. With the promotion, however subtle, of supremacist values at its core, the
multicultural curriculum provides little space for the interrogation of curricular typecasts of
Black heritage. Rather, using a ‘kill-me-softly’ approach, it aims to win the consent of Black

55
students to their own subordination through the token inclusion of Black history and
achievements. Moreover, by referencing only a very limited number of Black heroes, all of
moderate political views, e.g. Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, it serves to impede
the formation of a Black identity (Dei, 1995; Dei et al., 1997).

In recalling her school experience, Annette Henry captures a sense of the dilemma
facing Toronto’s marginalized Black students and the concerns of many Black parents.

Throughout my childhood, my school lessons never enabled me to make sense

of my Blackness in positive, affirming ways. My teachers never taught me in
ways that helped me critically understand the larger Black community. . . . As
a young girl growing up in England and Canada, my school lessons were often
acts of violence (Henry as cited in James & Brathwaite, 1996, p. 30)

Henry's narrative is instructive in that it references how the Black heritage has been
nullified, minimized, dismembered and reconstituted to promote White supremacy in the area
of knowledge production. Her biographical account highlights many of the reasons Black
students leave school; it also helps to explicate Black calls for Afrocentric education after
years of protestations that the public school system’s credo of neutrality and inclusivity have
done little to reform a curriculum and institutional practices that valorize White supremacy
and shun racial equity (Harper, 1997; Solomon, 1995).

Allen (1996) examines the powerful hold textual representations can have over young
minds. In “I don’t want to read this”: Students’ responses to illustrations of Black characters
in children’s picture books,” he argues that the picture illustrations featured in such texts are
in no way empty signifiers. Rather, they carry positive and negative messages that reinforce
the viewer’s perception of himself and others. Allen reports that some Black students in his
Grade 2 class were less than enthused with “angry, sad or pensive” (pp. 157) figures depicted
in The Orphan Boy, a story about the Maasai of Kenya. When asked what they found to be so
objectionable, the students replied:

Leo: My head (face) is not like that. I don’t have anything Black here.

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 Ralph: That looks like a moustache. . . . No, that doesn’t look like me, I
am brown Black, he’s [Don] light Black and that’s [the character]
dark Black.
Mike: Because I don’t like his face. It is his head, it is covering here… on
his moustache.
Theodore: The face does not [look] good.

Maggie: I can’t see the eyes.

(p. 158)

Despite genuine efforts to expunge racist inferences from all texts in the public
domain, books like Little Black Sambo that depict Black children as “dark skinned, plain,
mischievous, comical, and poor" (Harris as cited in Allen, 1996, p. 152) may still be found
on the shelves of public libraries. These negative representations can only serve to erode the
self-confidence of African-Canadian students (Allen, 1996; Dei et al., 1997; James, 2011).
Allen's work illustrates how the curriculum leads Black students to reject their race and
heritage and internalize the ideology and worldview of the dominant order. This is all part of
an assimilationist project that for Black students spells "[cultural and intellectual] genocide"
(Jaenen as cited in James, 1995, p. 12), often manifested in disaffection, resistance to
authority, underachievement, and high dropout rates.

Drawing on her experience as a student at a predominantly White school in North

York, Ontario, Kong (1996) highlights how the curriculum works to nullify Black history.
Scarcely was any reference made, notes Kong, to African-Canadian contributions to Canada;
moreover, African-Canadians were represented exclusively as newly arrived immigrants
from Africa and the Caribbean, something she would discover to be false upon learning of
the Black migration to Ontario in the early 1800s via the Underground Railroad. This erasure
of the Black contribution to Canada has contributed in a major way to fostering racial
stereotypes—in particular, Black Canadians have come to be viewed as living off the hard
work and enterprise of Whites. This kind of representation, however false, makes Black
students feel less Canadian and thus “undeserving of the benefits of Canada’s future” (p. 61).
As a consequence, these students live under the misconception that their ancestors were

57
“intruders, or at best hangers-on in the flow of history that ignores them” (Walker as cited in
Kong, 1996, pp. 62-63), a view that is often internalized.

2.13. Black Students' Underperformance:

Looking Beyond the Public School System

With a view to providing an alternative explanation for Black student

underperformance, I shall draw on the seminal work of Ogbu. While Ogbu (1995a) focuses
on the African-American student experience much of his analysis of the achievement gap
existing in the US public education system holds true for its Canadian counterpart. Ogbu
(1995a) posits a causal relation between Black culture and student underachievement.
According to Ogbu, Black student underperformance can be explained by the "oppositional
cultural frame of reference" (p. 196) they cultivate and nurture as part of their identity.
Membership in this oppositional 'cultural frame of reference', Ogbu argues, requires Black
students to foster a racial and cultural solidarity, an oppositional code of conduct, and
“attitudes, behaviors, and speech styles" (p. 196) at variance and in opposition to mainstream
educational norms and expectations. Operating from an oppositional position, Black students
fight to hold on to what they believe makes them culturally unique and reject school practices
and expectations they view to be part of an assimilationist project that takes many forms,
e.g., demands that they renounce their "dialects" or "languages" in favour of "proper"
English, the language of the colonizer (p. 201). Thus even though Black students see
education as crucial to their success in life, they view the "foreign" knowledge systems that
dominate the curriculum as essentially antithetical to their very being, and for this reason,
they remain recalcitrantly disaffected.

According to Ogbu (1995a), Black students who form the vanguard of oppositional
cultures seek every opportunity to recruit their peers. Typically, they coerce other students
into joining their fraternity by accusing them of "acting White" (p. 282), a scornful signifier
that carries with it guilt and punishment for abandoning one's roots, racial and/or cultural, to

58
embrace the values of the oppressor. Students who violate this unwritten cultural edict are
isolated and denied protection (Fordham & Ogbu, p. 1986).

Ogbu (1995b) further posits the existence of a Black oppositional culture that often
pervades whole communities and has even been adopted by some Black scholars—e.g.,
Afrocentrists at the forefront of a critical African-centred scholarship. Luster describes some
of the more salient features of this culture:

There is a continual delineation and reinforcement of behaviors, practices, and

attitudes that are "Black" [and appropriate] versus those that are "White" and
[inappropriate]—Acting White is an acknowledged and identifiable practice
within the community. The women who were . . . interviewed considered
“speaking proper" or using standard English an attempt to dissociate oneself
from the race; an attempt to demonstrate superiority; an act of betrayal. . . .
The women [and most were parents] consciously resisted learning and using
standard English because it would mean accepting what the White society
defines as "right" or "White” to replace what the same White society defines
as "wrong" or "Black". (as cited in Ogbu, 1995b, p. 282)

One may infer from Luster’s description that it is the subordination and
marginalization of Black people that must be held largely responsible for Black student
underperformance as well as resistance to the intrusive efforts on the part of Whites to coax
or coerce them into assimilating to the dominant culture. The chief bulwark of this resistance
is a broadly-based counterculture, the purpose of which lies in preserving a Black identity; its
chief pillar is a Black patois whose very existence is an affront to standard English, the
language of the oppressor.

According to Ogbu (1995b) the underperformance of Black students may be

attributed to a common "feeling among some Blacks that learning to speak, read, and write
standard English in the public school is more or less an imposition on Black people by White
people [emphasis in original]” (p. 283). Operating from this oppositional cultural standpoint,
Ogbu theorizes that Black students come to view learning "standard practices and standard
English” as gravitating toward becoming White; a move they see as adversative to their
cultural values and harmful to their Black identity (p. 284).

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 The contagion of "acting White” and “resist[ing] academic striving” is more
pronounced in schools [where] Black students predominate. In these institutions, Black
students build “fictive kinship” relations often through micro-coercion, which can take the
form of name-calling— “pervert brainiac” and “homosexual” ranking among the most
insulting (Fordham & Ogbu, 1986, p. 194)—the aim of which is to discourage “attitudes and
standard practices that enhance academic success” (Fordham & Ogbu, 1986, p. 183).
Fordham and Ogbu (1986) reveal that Black students who fail in school are most likely those
who adopt an oppositional culture and thus “spend very little time completing . . . homework
assignments” (Fordham & Ogbu, 1986, p. 188), opting instead to demonstrate an aversion for
education—their own and/or that of their ‘friends’—by engaging in non-academic activities
such as athletics. In sum, while this oppositional culture has its benefits [in the form of]
helping Black students to “develop…a force of cohesion [for their] survival…, [it also serves
to] widen the cultural gap . . . expos[ing] them to even harder blows from a White nation that
can neither understand their behavior nor respect its moral foundations” (Genovese as cited
in Anderson, 1989, p. 257).

2.14. Conclusion

The literature review has delineated the impact of colonial and Eurocentric education
on the minds and social development of Africans, both on the continent and in the North
American diaspora. Presented as humane, a gift intended to civilize the African, colonial
education, research reveals, brought about precisely the opposite effect, turning the colonized
into intellectual automatons and vassals. The harm wrought by it, and the Eurocentric
education that would follow, speaks to the rage and frustration that so many Black parents
experience. It is this failure to change in ways capable of addressing the challenges in the
public education system that accounts for the underperformance of Black Canadian students,
and that has led to calls for Afrocentric education (Dei, 1996a, 1995; Dei et al., 1997).

For its part, multicultural education has not escaped the criticism of Black parents
who see it as a mutated strain of colonial education that privileges, albeit in a far more subtle

60
fashion, the White student vis-à-vis his/her Black peer. The education reforms of the 1980s,
carried out under the aegis of multiculturalism, critics argue, have not gone far enough in
removing inequities, e.g., a curriculum that promotes White privilege, supremacy and a
Eurocentric ethos.

According to critics, far from promoting an inclusive and egalitarian ethos as claimed
by proponents, ME aims merely at assuaging Black discontent, an imperative if the Black
vote is to be captured. Devised for and by elites, ME gives short shrift to the principles of
social justice and equality, while allowing dominant groups to focus on what really matters:
politics and the economy. It was also noted that ME largely ignores cultural difference,
which is reflected by a ‘one-knowledge-fits-all’ curriculum—one that pays lip service to the
notion of inclusivity. What is hailed as an inclusive curriculum is in reality a White
knowledge system that, at best, includes only passing references to Black history and
knowledge systems. ME fails Black students in other ways, e.g., by perpetuating the practice
of ‘streaming’ with a view to addressing achievement gaps in education (Dei et al., 1997;
James, 2005). It was also noted that alternative studies attribute the average achievement of
Black students in part to Black culture, which fosters the view that all things White,
including education, are harmful to Black autonomy and must therefore be subverted. It is for
the above reason that critics of ME demand that Afrocentric schools be established, hoping
thereby to reverse the achievement gap in the public education system. The following chapter
examines Afrocentricity, focusing on Afrocentric education and its representation of Black
history in the school system.

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Chapter 3.

Afrocentric Theory:
A Discursive Framework

In the preceding chapter, I discussed colonial, Eurocentric and multicultural models

of education and their respective impact on the education of Africans both in the Homeland
and in the diaspora, models that would later give rise to Afrocentric education. To
understand the history behind separate Black schools in the US and TAAS in Toronto, in
particular, one must, first understand Afrocentricity as a theory and as an idea and its
influence on Black education. This chapter presents a historical overview of Afrocentric
Theory (AT), along with a synopsis of the various arguments, for and against. With a view
to tracing the origins of AT, I begin by examining Du Bois’ work on the concept of race and
its impact on Black education and emancipation. Next, I review Garvey’s views on a
continental and diasporic African identity and expound Nkrumah’s notion of Pan-
Africanism. The work of these three figures are taken up here as closely related, indeed
precursors to Afrocentrism and education. I then proceed to introduce Afrocentrism, drawing
principally on the work of Asante.

For Asante Afrocentricity, a conceptual framework that is essential to reawakening

among Blacks an awareness of their contributions to civilization, which he claims, have been
denied, distorted, or trivialized by Whites, thereby contributing to the marginalization and
subordination of Blacks, and particularly Black students, who, he argues, continue to
internalize oppressive knowledge systems that degrade their humanity and call into question
their intellectual capabilities. In the following section, I examine Afrocentric education. Also
reviewed is the role of Canadian scholars, e.g., Dei, who are credited with promoting
Afrocentric education in Canada, a process that culminated with the opening of the Toronto
Africentric Alternative School (TAAS) in September 2009. Lastly, I provide a brief overview
of TAAS, its mode of governance, curriculum and staff.

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 My exposition of AT is based on the work of American rather than Canadian scholars
as the former are responsible for its genesis and early development. This presents no
problem, however, as there exist no substantive differences between their respective
interpretations of the Black experience across settler nations, a category which includes both
the United States and Canada.

3.1. A Working Definition of Afrocentric Theory

The definition of AT used here is drawn from the work of Asante, its chief developer
and proponent, as well as that of other scholars (Boykin, 1994; 1986; Dei, 1996b, 1995,
1994; Dei et al., 1997; Keto, 2001) whose definitions and interpretations are broadly
consistent with his. In keeping with the spirit and intent of these sources, I view AT as a
response to the need to foster Pan-African consciousness and unity as well as social justice.
Moreover, my working definition of AT is highly circumscribed so as to preclude its misuse
by scholars6 who have, I believe, strayed from its principal tenets. That said, my working
definition is as follows:

AT represents a body of philosophical thought aimed at restoring Africa’s

place in the sphere of knowledge production, reconnecting Diasporic Africans
to the African Homeland, and most importantly, empowering Africans,
including those in the diaspora, to challenge efforts by White scholars to
denigrate African values, the African personality and African abilities, while
prescribing European knowledge systems as a therapy for curing the primitive
‘Other’ of their ‘inadequacies,’ which some go so far as to attribute to their
genetic legacy (Herrnstein & Murray, 1994; Rushton, 1994).

6
Carol Barnes’ melanin thesis, for example, presents a sensational and distorted view of Afrocentricity.
Steeped in biological determinism, it celebrates a racial exceptionality and essentialism that play to a White
supremacist agenda of pitting Blacks against Whites while fueling racist policies aimed at limiting
opportunities for Blacks in the workplace and other White-dominated spheres. Carol Barnes’ thesis “Melanin:
The Chemical Key to Black Greatness,” claims that “melanin is a civilizing chemical and acts as a sedative to
help Black[s] [remain] calm, relaxed, caring and civilized” (Austin, 2006, pp. 119-120).

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3.2. Du Bois, The “Concept of Race”:
White Power and Separate Education

While Du Bois’ work preceded the advent of Afrocentric thought, his views on race
vis-à-vis White oppression established him as a “superior combatant in th[e] arena [of Black
emancipation and dignity]” (Asante, 1998, p. 136). Even though he would die before
Afrocentricity emerged as a theory, Du Bois is credited for “prepar[ing] the world for [what
would prove to be a source of inspiration for all Black people]” (Asante, 1998, p. 23). Even
though critical of Du Bois on the grounds that his education at “Harvard and Berlin . . . [had]
trapped him . . . in . . . a European outlook toward the world” (Asante, 1998, p. 136), Asante
recognized his indispensability within academic circles where he demonstrated an acute
grasp of social justice issues, issues he would grapple with despite threats to his personal
safety at a time when the South was firmly in the grip of Jim Crow. In recognition of his
seminal work and unparalleled leadership, Asante (1998) writes:

. . . Du Bois stands at the helm of intellectual and political advancement in the

contemporary world. He [wa]s . . . brilliant, powerful, and humanistic. At no
point in the present era and rarely in previous epochs has any one individual
so completely dominated the intellectual landscape on matters [related to
American] politic[s], soci[ety], and history. Every treatise on urban life is
incomplete without reference to Du Bois, and no successful scholarly study of
the economic, legal or historical implications of slavery can be achieved
without homage to Du Bois. In sociology, history, and political science, he
laid the basis for contemporary analysis. (p. 23)

Like the Afrocentrists who would come after him, Du Bois argued that race was at the
core of the United States’ existence as a nation. Premising their superiority on race, White
Americans oppressed Blacks whom they considered inferior. While race remains a social
construct and an artificial designation, with no basis in science, Du Bois contended that it
played into American politics by serving to justify the oppression of Blacks. Race, he
argued, provided Whites with a justification to pigeonhole “groups of folk who belong
naturally together through the heredity of physical traits and cultural affinity” (Du Bois,
1968, p. 100). Blacks were obligated, by Whites to view their lower station in life as natural
and their “race [a]s constitutionally and permanently inferior to [W]hite people” (Du Bois,

64
1935, p. 330). Race, from Du Bois’ perspective, helped Whites create an asymmetrical
world that justified a racial hierarchy in which they occupied the lowest position. According
to Du Bois, one way in which Whites exercised dominance over Blacks was through
education. By imposing separate education on Blacks, White Americans denied them access
to a basic human right essential to fighting racial injustice and oppression. Denying Blacks
equal education proved tantamount to denying them emancipation. Instead of using education
to foster positive race relations, mainstream American education, argued Du Bois, would do
the very opposite (Du Bois, 1935, 1968).

While White mistreatment of Blacks could be characterized as disempowering, Du

Bois (1968) also contended that it was a force for good: an incentive to spur Black students
to excel:

I don’t know how I came to form my theories of race. The process was
probably largely unconscious. The difference [in] personal appearance
between me and my fellows, I must have been conscious of when quite young.
Whatever distinctions came because of that did not irritate me; they rather
exalted me because, on the whole, while I was still a youth, they gave me
exceptional position and a chance to excel rather than handicapping me. (pp.
100-101)

I gather from this autobiographical note is that the key to Black excellence, whatever
the constraints attributable to race, lies not with biology, but with ecology. Thus, given equal
opportunities and adequate support, Blacks in general, and Black students in particular, could
“match [their] mettle against White folk to show them what Black folk could do” (Du Bois,
1968, p. 130). “From the days of [their] childhood”, White students, Du Bois contends, are
no different from Black students in terms of their “physical and mental processes” (Du Bois,
1968, p. 136). Thus it is to environmental factors, and particularly race, that we must look to
explain their poor academic performance. Indeed, despite all the talk of race being
inconsequential to educational outcomes, “it absolutely determine[s] [them]” (Du Bois, 1968,
p. 136). While excellence in education is attributable to genetic exceptionalism, the “social
status” into which privileged Whites are born confers on them “social power and class

65
domination” (Du Bois, 1968, p. 189), which they exploit to their advantage in all spheres,
including that of education.

For Du Bois, a Black identity constitutes an artificial construct grounded in and

shaped by history. Thus, one might infer that a certain subset of Blacks in the American
South arrived at a sense of self-identity as Africans because of their officially sanctioned
mistreatment and relegation to the status of a second-class citizen. White terror, racism and
harsh socio-economic conditions, along with repressive laws and mob justice, e.g., lynchings
that often attracted large White audiences, led these Blacks to envision Africa and lay claim
to it as a Black homeland on the basis of their ancestry. For some Black Americans,
especially modern-day Afrocentrists, Africa provides a sense of belonging, a feeling of
acceptance. For Du Bois and other Black intellectuals, developing a collective Black identity
was a prerequisite for achieving unity, self-determination and a sense of dignity.

According to Du Bois, it was critical that separate education aim at promoting Africa
and all things African. By addressing the question of whether Africans are primitive, Du
Bois argued, Black education, whatever its limitations, could serve as a counterweight to
White prejudice and ignorance, providing Black children with an alternative worldview
capable of challenging the stereotypical views of Africa and Africans held by White
America. An African-centred education and experiential accounts of Africa, Du Bois (1968)
posited, was crucial to awakening a sense of the superior quality, at least in some respects, of
African life:

[African] folk have the leisure . . . for thought and courtesy . . . They have
time for their children—such as well trained, beautiful children with perfect,
unhidden bodies. . . . Come to Africa, and see well-bred and courteous
children playing happily and never sniffling or whining. I have read
everywhere that Africa means sexual license. . . . (p. 127)

[For the 2 months I spent] in West Africa . . . I saw children quite naked and
women usually naked to the waist—with bare bosom and limbs. And in those
sixty days I saw less of sex] dalliance and appeal than I see daily on Fifth
Avenue. . . . The primitive Black man is courteous and dignified. If the
platforms of Western cities had swarmed with humanity as I have seen the
platforms swarm in Senegal, the police would have a busy time. I did not see

66
 one respectable quarrel . . . . African life with its isolation has deeper
knowledge of human souls. . . .(p. 128)

Africans know fewer folk, but know them infinitely better. Their intertwined
communal souls, therefore, brook no poverty nor prostitution—these things
are to them un-understandable. . . . It was in Africa that I came more clearly to
see the close connection between race and wealth. (p. 129)

This quotation underpins one of the moral imperatives of Afrocentricity: that in a

world comprising different races, ethnicities, and cultural practices, difference, regardless of
the apprehension it may create within the White world, should be respected and myriad
cultural practices validated. The sense of humanity implicit in this account, moreover,
suggests that Africans at least be allowed to speak for themselves, which is not to imply Du
Bois was opposed to White scholars taking on African issues from an antiracist and
anticolonial perspective. While Africa’s social conditions were precarious, Du Bois admitted,
they could be ameliorated if Africans were only given a fair chance, a notion that is
antithetical to White interventionism in Africa aimed at saving benighted peoples from
themselves. Promoting all that is good in African societies, Du Bois argued, would serve the
dual purpose of providing Whites—and particularly those “dogmatic supporters of race
theories and believers in the inferiority of colored folk to White” (Du Bois, 1968, p. 129)—
with a non-stereotypical view of the racial ‘other’ and of educating Blacks about their
ancestral homeland. While encouraging the promotion of Africa’s rich and diverse cultures,
Du Bois cautioned against romanticizing the ‘dark’ continent, thereby obscuring its reality,
e.g., presenting it as free from “preventable disease[s] . . . unnecessary hunger” (Du Bois,
1968, p. 129) and/or overemphasizing the “esthetic ability of the Negro race, [which] . . .
naturally has been exaggerated” (Du Bois, 1935, p. 334).

According to Du Bois (1968), Black education should not aim at settling racial
scores, notwithstanding the conviction, current among some Whites, that they are superior to
Blacks and that African history is unworthy of study, a perception that allows them to
ridicule African knowledge systems. Moreover, whereas Blacks were, contends Du Bois,
eager to learn about Whites, the latter were unwilling to respond in kind:

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 [There] is something for Africa and Europe both to learn; and Africa is eager,
breathless, to learn—while . . . Europe laughs with loud guffaws. Learn of
Africa? Nonsense. . . . Europe proceeds to use Africa as a means and not as
an end; as a hired tool and welter of raw materials and not as a land of human
beings. (p. 129)

The asymmetry in power relations between Whites and Blacks is manifested in the
former’s domination of the later extending back centuries. Thus, for example, White
domination of the media and education system ensures that knowledge and information
promoting Black culture, or educational reform aimed at providing an objective perspective
on African history and Black achievements are either censored or framed in a way that
advances the interests of the dominant order. For the latter, it is imperative that the
dissemination of counterrevolutionary knowledge be minimized lest it threatens to erode
White domination of the public education system. White refusal to learn about Africa, I
would argue, is a way of mitigating guilt while at the same time perpetuating an educational
system that marginalizes and subordinates Black students. Providing these students with an
education that would serve their interests would, some defenders of the status quo believe,
hasten the “overthrow [of] White folk by [the] sheer weight of [Black] numbers . . .” (Du
Bois, 1968, p. 160), a view though farfetched still remains popular among White racists.

3.3. Du Bois, Separate Schools and Education:

The History

In addressing the issue of separate education, Du Bois (1935) argued that Blacks had
no choice in the matter, given that perpetuating White domination depended very much on
providing Blacks with an education that was consistent with their position as a marginalized
and subordinated people. Especially in the South, no effort was spared to ensure Blacks
would be privy to ideas above their station. It was for this reason that efforts on the part of
Black parents to enroll their children in White schools were resisted by “White children,
White teachers, and White parents [who] despised and resented the dark child, made mock of
it . . . literally render[ing] its life a living hell” (p. 330). Separate education, Du Bois
contended, was a way for Black parents to circumvent the barriers erected by racist education

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laws, to educate Black children and to shield them from White racism. Separate schools and
education, then as now, it is safe to argue, represented a way to provide Black students with a
safe space “where they [felt] wanted, and where they [were] happy and inspired, . . . [as
opposed to] thrusting them into hells where they [would be] ridiculed and hated” (p. 331).

Though a strong advocate of separate schools and education, Du Bois was of the view
that neither was capable of addressing White domination in the broader context. At the same
time, he believed that even admitting Black students to White schools with a relatively high
level of racial tolerance would do little to boost their academic performance. A results-
oriented education system must have at its core equality. The myth that a “mixed” school can
provide the kind of learning environment wherein Black students can excel, Du Bois (1935)
argued, is wholly without foundation:

If the public school of Atlanta . . . were thrown open to all races tomorrow, the
education that colored children would get . . . would be worse than pitiable. It
will not be education . . . There are many public school systems . . . where
Negroes are admitted and tolerated, but they are not educated; they are
crucified. There are certain [schools] where Negro students, no matter . . .
their ability, desert, or accomplishment, cannot get fair recognition either in
the classroom or on the campus, . . . Under such circumstances, there is no
room for argument as to whether the Negro needs separate schools or not. The
plain fact faces us, that either he will have separate schools or he will not be
educated. (p. 329)

In Du Bois’ (1935) view, turning Black children into future leaders required Black
educational initiatives rather than reliance on a public school system informed by the
principle of White supremacy. Black-oriented education would expose students to the
contributions made by Africans to world civilization, thereby inspiring them to excel. For
example, while fully cognizant of the role Europeans played in advancing the science of
astronomy, Du Bois (1968) contended that “vast conception of the solar system to the
Africanized Egyptians” (p. 144) should be highlighted in science textbooks rather than being
relegated to the status of a mere footnote as was the case in the public education system then,
and, to a lesser extent, now. “Great works of Art . . . [such as] The Pyramids, Luxor, the
Bronzes of Benin, and the Spears of the Bongo” are treated as mere artifacts, with no

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consideration given their “spiritual value” to the “soul of the Negro” (p. 147). According to
Du Bois, segregated education offered Blacks an in-depth understanding of two worlds, that
of Blacks and that of the Whites, resulting in “double envisionment”, by which he meant a
consciousness “conditioned by their structurally disadvantaged place in the world and their
sense of the understanding White people have of them (p. 173). White world, on the other
hand, offered Whites little understanding or appreciation of the Black world. Du Bois
viewed the double-consciousness permeating Black America as crucial to the Negro’s
struggle against White domination.

3.4. Black Education:

The Challenges

While lack of access to quality education severely handicapped the development of

Black America, Du Bois (1968) argued that the latter was further hampered by the poverty
and social degradation that were a hallmark of most Black communities. Encumbered by
racism and the legacy of slavery, Blacks would find that the economic autonomy for which
they longed would be deferred indefinitely owing to “wage exploitation and crime peonage”
(p. 182). Black economic progress would be further impeded by a combination of high
unemployment rates, a segregated economy, and a workforce that was “largely untrained and
ignorant . . . and sometimes anti-social” (p. 182).

According to Du Bois, a key challenge facing Blacks was that racial segregation
conferred upon Whites rewards that they refused to share. Thus, for example, in a two-tiered
America, Black schools would be chronically under-resourced and underfunded, which
translated into “poor equipment . . . [and] poor teaching,” something that would not have
been the case but for segregated education. Of critical importance, what the latter meant was
that Black “contact with the better-trained part of the nation . . . is lessened and shortened”
(pp. 200-201). Another constraint was the underfunding of Black schools—in part the result
of the poverty plaguing Black communities—that made it impossible to “plan and organize . .
. segregated schools so that they [would] become efficient, well-housed, well-equipped, with

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the best teachers and the best results for [Black] children; so that the illiteracy and bad
manners . . . of young Negroes [could] be quickly and effectively reduced” (p. 201). Despite
all these challenges, Du Bois insisted that “most Negroes would prefer a good school with
properly paid coloured teachers for educating their children, to forcing . . . [them] into White
schools which met them with injustice and humiliation and discouraged their efforts to
progress” (p. 201).

While recognizing that separate schools and education were under certain
circumstances unavoidable, Du Bois advised Black America to reflect critically on the
politics-and-personality-oriented propositions, advanced by “a minority of leaders, [bent on]
forc[ing] their opinions on [the] majority [with a view] to induc[ing] communit[ies] to
establish separate schools, when as a matter of fact, there is no general demand for it; there
has been no friction in the schools; and Negro children have been decently treated” (Du Bois,
1935, p. 329). I assume that what Du Bois is alluding to here was the habit among certain
Black elites to prescribe idealistic solutions for problems that did not exist, all in the name of
ego. He was also concerned that separate schools would be used to romanticize the “Negro
race” (Du Bois, 1935, p. 334). Transformative education, he argued, had to be based on an
“honest evaluation of human effort and accomplishment, without color-blindness, and
without transforming history into a record of dynasties and prodigies” (Du Bois, 1935, p.
334), thus reducing Black education to the constructed narratives of imaginary kings, queens,
princes, and princesses who never existed or, if they did, were not of the grand stature their
champions claimed.

3.5. Marcus Garvey:

The Relationship Between Continental and
Diasporic African Black as One People

I begin my analysis of Marcus Garvey’s role in promoting the cause of Black

liberation and Pan-African unity by citing an old Afrocentric tradition; the paying of homage
to ancestors and elders of high standing. Garvey was “born in St. Ann’s Bay, a northern

71
seaport town in Jamaica, on 17 August 1887” (Lewis, 2011, p. 474). He died “in London on
10 June, 1940, just two months short of his 53rd birthday” (Lewis, 2011, p. 474). In the
history of Black anticolonial struggle and discourse, Garvey remains an iconic leader; a font
of inspiration, a symbol of Black unity, resistance and dignity. In assessing. Garvey’s
contributions, Asante (1998) presents him as the godfather of Afrocentricity, a figure of
towering strength and accomplishment who represents the essence of Black resistance as well
as a leader who provided oppressed Africans with “the most perfect [and] consistent . . .
ideology of [Black] liberation in the first half of the 20th century” (Asante, 1998, p. 16). A
visionary, Garvey “saw clearly the relationship [between] Africans on the continent and
[those] in the Diaspora as [one of] variations of one people . . . (Asante, 1998, p. 18).
Understanding the challenges confronting Black freedom, “Garvey sought to produce a new
Black man, mold him . . . and develop him. . . . [He sought to create a] “new people,
organized in character . . . and [committed to] building nations for the future. His vision
foreshadowed the Afrocentric road to self-respect and dignity” (Asante, 1998, p. 18). He was,
according to Asante, a “genius . . . [at] a moment of crisis” (Asante, 1998, p. 19).

For his critics, Marcus Garvey’s name, is synonymous with controversy; for his
supporters, he remains a larger-than-life Black leader, an anticolonial figure whose ideas
fostered Trans-Atlantic unity and galvanized Black resistance movements across the globe
against colonial domination. He would also inspire some of Africa’s leading anticolonial
leaders, e.g., “Kwame Nkrumah [Ghana’s first prime minister and president], Nnamdi
Azikiwe of Nigeria and Jomo Kenyatta of Kenya, among others” (Lewis, 2011, p. 481).
Garvey’s political stance on colonial oppression crystallized during the course of his travels
in South America, England, the US, and other countries (Lewis, (2011). The insights into the
phenomenon of oppression gained during this period would later coalesce into a “global
perspective on the future of Africa and people of African descent, [one that he would draw
on] to build an organization that embodied the aspirations of millions of Africans for self-
determination, justice and freedom” (Lewis, 2011, p. 474). In “A Talk with Afro-West
Indians,” Garvey reflects on the status of the Black man:

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 For the last ten years I have given my time to the study of the condition of the
Negro, here, there, and everywhere, and I have come to realise that he is still
the object of degradation and pity the world over, in the sense that he has no
status socially, nationally, or commercially. (as cited in Lewis, 2011, pp. 474-
475)

In Costa Rica, where he worked as a “timekeeper on a banana plantation” (Edwards,

1967, p. 7), Garvey was dismayed at the appalling conditions under which Black labourers
toiled, and particularly the contract workers from Jamaica (Lewis, 2011). He soon left this
job to begin “lecturing [Black] workers [to be proud of] their race and to improve their
conditions” (Edwards, 1967, p. 7). On a visit to England in 1912, Garvey again witnessed
racism and human exploitation on an appalling scale. Britain’s efforts in 1914 to
commission Black West Indians as officers in the British army marked the beginning of his
political activism.

Garvey’s interest in Africa lay in its “colonial plunder and exploitation” (as cited in
Edwards, 1967, p. 8) and the failure of its many and disparate peoples to achieve their
respective goals, despite their undoubted ingenuity and capabilities. Asks Garvey:

Where is the Black man’s government? Where is his king and his kingdom?
Where is his President, his country, and his ambassadors, his army, his navy,
his men of big affairs? . . . I s[ee] before me . . . a new world of Black men,
not peons, serfs, dogs, and slaves, but a nation of sturdy men making their
impress upon civilization and causing a new light to dawn upon the human
race. (p. 9)

While Garvey’s view of Africa sometimes bordered on the romantic and idealistic,
for Blacks in the diaspora, it represented a lofty vision inspiring them to unite and mobilize
in search of a better future. For those in both Africa and the diaspora, it marked the beginning
of an awakening to the possibility of liberation. In establishing the Universal Negro
Improvement Association (UNIA) in “over 40 countries . . . in Africa, the Caribbean, [and]
Latin America, [as well as in] Australia and the US, . . . [including] the apartheid southern
states” (Lewis, 2011, p. 479), Garvey demonstrated an undying commitment to Black
liberation and unity.

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 While passionately committed to the African cause, Garvey often failed to take into
account the inherent complexity of a vast continent filled with disparate races, tribes, classes,
cultures and religions of whom some—and this is especially true of an indigenous
bourgeoisie—who preferred the status quo and were prepared to resist any political program
that would jeopardize their relationship with their colonial masters and the benefits accruing
from it. Moreover, by appointing himself president of UNIA, Garvey left himself open to
charges of despotism.

During the UNIA’s formative years, Garvey proved himself to be among the very few
effective leaders in Black America; the rest he described as “opportunists who were living off
their so-called leadership while the poor people were groping in the dark” (Garvey as cited in
Edwards, 1967, p. 11). Of crucial importance, Garvey arrived in the US at a time when Black
hopes were at their nadir; it was “a period when White-sheeted knights of the tragicomic Ku
Klux Klan [KKK] reigned supreme in the Southern States, burning and lynching Negroes;
when, to the White American, the Negro was still a fraction of a human being. . . .”
(Edwards, 1967, p. 11).

At the first UNIA convention held at Madison Square Gardens in 1920, which drew
Black delegates from across the diaspora, Garvey spoke of the Black plight. Addressing the
conference, he said:

We are the descendants of a suffering people; we are the descendants of a

people determined to suffer no longer. . . .We shall organize the 400,000,000
Negroes of the world into a vast organi[z]ation to plant the banner of freedom
on the great continent of Africa . . . If Europe is for the Europeans, then Africa
is for the Black peoples of the world. (as cited in Edwards, 1967, p. 15)

A populist leader, Garvey sought to rally the mass of Black people by conjuring up
exotic African titles: “Knight of the Nile, Earl of the Congo, Viscount of Niger [and] Baron
Zambe[z]i;” pompous titles at odds with the spirit of anti-colonialism. He was “elected [the]
Provisional President of Africa and President General and Administrator of the UNIA—with
the official title, ‘His Highness the Potentate’” (Edwards, 1967, p. 15). In a communiqué
directed at Black America, the UNIA delineated its opposition to Black oppression and called

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for “equality, complete racial self-determination and a free Africa, under a Negro
Government” (p. 15).

Though Garvey’s critics dismissed the Madison Square Gardens convention as yet
another exercise in wishful thinking, it did provide an impetus for one anticolonial African
leader, by the name of Kwame Nkrumah, who envisioned liberating Africa through the
political mobilization of the oppressed. Nkrumah, who was to succeed brilliantly in his native
Ghana as well as on the world stage, was inspired by Garvey’s ‘Africa for Africans’ mantra,
which would later help to spark liberation movements in the Congo, South West Africa
(present-day Namibia), Rhodesia (Zimbabwe). Nkrumah summed up his views on Garvey
thus:

I read Hegel, Karl Marx, Engels, Lenin and Mazzini. The writings of these
men did much to influence me in my revolutionary ideas and activities, and
Karl Marx and Lenin in particularly impressed me as I felt sure that their
philosophy was capable of solving these problems. But I think that of all the
literature I studied, the book that did more than any other to fire my
enthusiasm was Philosophy and Opinions of Marcus Garvey. (as cited in
Edwards, 1967, p. 39)

In a later tribute to his mentor, Nkrumah, speaking at an All-African Peoples

Conference held in Accra, Ghana in 1958, the year following Ghanaian independence,
remarked: “Long before many of us were even conscious of our own degradation, Marcus
Garvey fought for African national and racial equality” (Jacques-Garvey as cited in Lewis,
2011, p. 481).

An astute leader and “propagandist” (Fein, 1964, p. 448), Garvey understood the
importance of the media in the fight for social justice. To disseminate his views more
effectively, Garvey founded The Negro World, which would become his bully pulpit for
reviling colonialism and preaching the gospel of respect for Black culture and aspirations.
The Negro World listed no less than eight UNIA objectives: (i) “to champion a Negro
nationhood by [the] redemption of Africa;” (ii) To make the Negro race conscious;” (iii) “To
breathe ideas of manhood and womanhood into every Negro; “ (iv) To advocate racial self-

75
determination;” (v) To make the Negro world-conscious;” (vi) To point to all the news that
will be interesting and instructive to the Negro;” (vii) To instill racial self-help;” (viii) “To
inspire racial self-love and respect” (Fein, 1964, p. 448). In French Dahomey, present-day
Benin, the paper was banned and violators punished. In the editorial section, Garvey
surveyed “the past glories of the Negro race” (Edwards, 1967, p. 13), a tactic, the Black
Panther and Afrocentric Movements, in addition to popular culture, e.g., James Brown’s Say
it Loud, I am Black and I am proud, would, I argue, reprise in the 1960s. Throughout the
1950s and 1960s, particularly in the US, Garvey’s vision of reclaiming what was rightly
Black and human inspired leaders such as Marcus X, Martin Luther King and hundreds of
their followers, many of “whose parents were [or had been] themselves active . . .
Garvey[ites]” (Lewis, 2011, p. 481). One especially prominent adherent of Garvey’s Pan-
African Movement was Malcolm Nurse (George Padmore), who would later become one of
Nkrumah’s closest advisors.

A clever tactician, Garvey used symbolism to promote Pan-African unity. Thus, for
example, though his Black Star Shipping Line (BSSL), which he established in 1919 and
which was owned exclusively by Blacks (Carter, 2002), would never dispatch a single vessel
to the Negro homeland, the mere promise of “carry[ing] passengers and freight between
America, Africa and the West Indies” (Carter, 2000, p. 3) held for Garveyites7 great symbolic
value. BSSL also signified Garvey’s ingenuity in adopting a “capitalistic approach” (Carter,
2002, p. 1) to fostering Black economic emancipation. It also demonstrated that, even in
racist America, Black leaders could tap into African mass movements for financial capital
with which to promote Black “economic interests” (Carter, 2002, p. 2). Even though BSSL
was poorly managed and would cease to exist in 1922, it represents “the first large scale
business venture financed and managed by [people of African descent [and] . . . still remains
one of the largest Africa-American owned companies in US history” (Carter, 2002, p. 3),

7
Garveyites are adherents of Garveyism, “a political ideology and socioeconomic philosophy associated with
the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) and its founder, Marcus Mosiah Garvey (1887–1940).
Considered to be a critical post–World War I response to the development of other movements centered upon
the self-determination of people of African descent (the New Negro movement, the African Black
Brotherhood, Black internationalism, Pan-Africanism, the Harlem Renaissance, trade unionism, Communism,
socialism)” (Oxford Encyclopedia of the Modern World, 2008).

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which is in and of itself a significant feat considering the political and economic climate of
the time. BSSL would later be absorbed by Ghana’s national shipping line following that
country’s independence in 1957, and the Black Star incorporated into the Ghanaian national
flag.

Despite BSSL’s demise, Garvey did not abandon his dream to make Africa the
homeland of all people of African descent. In 1920 and again in 1924, he dispatched a
delegation to Liberia to sound out the country’s leadership regarding a plan to resettle
Africans of the Diaspora there. Despite the Liberian President’s promise to Garvey “that the
government would be glad to have his Association occupy certain settlements in Liberia”
(Edwards, 1967, p. 23), the plan had to be scuttled in 1925 owing to Garvey’s criticism of the
Firestone Rubber Company, a major investor in the country. The failure of the resettlement
plan evinced the extensive power Western nations and their corporate allies could exercise
over African nations and called into question Garvey’s supposition that Africa had the
wherewithal to liberate itself and become a powerhouse in world affairs. For Garvey, true
freedom and emancipation could be won only through “self-achievement and progress, . . .
[Thus] the Negro will have to build his own government, industry, art, science, literature and
culture, before the world will stop to consider him. Until then, [Africans will remain] . . .
wards of the superior race and civilization, and the outcasts of a standard social system”
(Jacques-Garvey as cited in Lewis, 2011, p. 480).

Garvey’s worst fears of what Africa and Africans would become if they failed to
unite and harness the continent’s vast resources have been realized today, notwithstanding a
few isolated success stories. After years of independence, African countries continue to
struggle under the aegis of neocolonial institutions, e.g., the World Bank and International
Monetary Fund and their stringent conditionalities attached to loans. The continent’s
development is encumbered by neoliberal prescriptions that require cuts to social programs
and education among much else. To survive, African countries have been compelled to
incorporate foreign prescriptions into domestic policies.

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3.6. Kwame Nkrumah and Pan-Africanism

Kwame Nkrumah’s Pan-African concept pertaining to restoring the humanity and

innate capabilities of Africans, including those in the diaspora, had a major influence on
Afrocentric thought. This is not to say that Afrocentricity was the brainchild of Nkrumah; it
was not. Rather, the point to be made here is that even though the theory of Afrocentricity
emerged after Nkrumah’s death in 1972, its core imperative, i.e., the building of an African
intellectual autonomy capable of speaking to Black oppression and the typecasting of
Africans, was one that was intrinsic to his thought. Like present-day Afrocentric scholars,
Nkrumah believed that Africans’ servile relationship to Europe sustained their oppression
and underwrote the exploitation of the continent’s resources. Like Du Bois, Nkrumah
believed that an African identity was in no way predicated on place of birth. From
Nkrumah’s Pan-Africanist perspective, an African, included all Blacks in the diaspora who
could trace their origins to Africa (Nkrumah, 1962). By extending the concept of Pan-African
identity thus, Nkrumah fostered an assurance among Blacks across the globe that Africa was
their ancestral Homeland and that the African struggle was a struggle of Blacks
“everywhere” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. xvii). To simplify Nkrumah’s Pan-Africanist logic, Blacks
in the US were Africans and their struggle a continuum of the African struggle against
colonial oppression. It was the latter that would come to dominate Nkrumah’s thought while
a student in the US in the early 1940s:

I was revolted by the ruthless colonial exploitation and political oppression of

the people of Africa [such] that I knew no peace. The matter exercised my
mind to such a degree that I decided to put down my thoughts in writing and
to dilate on the results of some of my research concerning the subject of
colonialism and imperialism. (Nkrumah, 1962, p. ix)

One of Nkrumah’s most enduring legacies was his uncompromising faith in the
ability and determination of Africans to confront colonial oppression, in whatever guise,
steadfastly and courageously, to raise Black consciousness, and to muster sufficient will to
dislodge Africa from the colonial orbit. As a student and a political activist, he well

78
understood the magnitude of the task facing Africans, an understanding that would inform his
political work.

Nkrumah rejected the proposition that because colonialism had laid down the
foundation for a modern economy, established law and order and educated the colonized, it
was therefore benign. For Nkrumah, imperialism and colonialism were predicated on the
principle of divide and rule, of pitting Africans against one another, thus precluding any
possibility of them uniting in opposition to White supremacy. Colonial ideologies and aims,
Nkrumah argued, were at variance with Africa’s interests. Embedded in the colonial ideology
lies the imperative to deny Africans’ their dignity and crush any hope of liberation or
national development. Thus, for Nkrumah, the argument, that colonialism was somewhat
benevolent appeared farfetched (Nkrumah, 1962).

According to Nkrumah, colonialism perpetuates itself in many disparate ways: by

sowing discontent among rival ethnic groups, racial or religious groups; by co-opting those
among the indigenous populations who can bring influence to bear on the masses, e.g., by
offering them employment in the colonial administration or providing them economic
incentives in return for their co-operation; by holding forth the promise of a better future to
be realized by adopting European culture, technology and administrative methods. The
promise of a brighter tomorrow, Nkrumah asserts, has its origin in White paternalism and its
corollary: the incurable habit of infantilizing Africans, of relegating them to the status of
children to be placated with promises that would never be honored for lack of political will
and moral fortitude on the part of the colonial powers. For Nkrumah, Africa’s problems
would never be solved by colonial exploitation and domination; only Africans could take on
such a task (Nkrumah, 1962). He also rejected categorically the Eurocentric view of
colonialism as a missionary undertaking aimed at uplifting the benighted native, recognizing
it as the subterfuge it was.

According to Nkrumah, colonialism is synonymous with “deception, hypocrisy,

oppression and exploitation” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. xvi). It marginalized and subordinated
Africans, thus depriving them of true liberty and independence while concealing its real aims

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under the cover of empty phrases, such as “colonial charter,” “trusteeship,” “partnership,”
guardianship” . . . “constitutional reforms” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. xvi), which, while meaning
little to the masses of subjugated Blacks, helped preserve the illusion that colonialism
represented a benign force acting in the world. Dispelling that illusion would require raising
the political consciousness of Africans to the level where the bankruptcy and vacuity of the
colonial system would at last be revealed, a sine qua non for mobilizing resistance.

To draw attention to the nefarious goals of colonialism, Nkrumah cited three

particularly damning sentences from a speech by Albert Sarraut, France’s colonial secretary,
delivered at the Ecole Coloniale in 1923: “What is the use of painting the truth? . . .
Colonialism was not an act of civilization; [it] was not a desire to civilize. It was an act of
force motivated by interests” (Sarraut as cited in Nkrumah, 1962, p. 3). These words reflect
precisely the Afrocentrist view of European education. What I glean from Sarraut’s statement
is that colonialism aims not at uplifting Africans but exploiting them for material gain. And
what better way to serve this purpose than by ‘miseducating’ them so they might be more
easily manipulated. What passed for education in a colonial context aimed at reproducing
European dominance, not at producing intellectuals and leaders on a par with those of
Europe. According to Nkrumah, colonial education fell short of providing Africans with the
savoir faire required to win “political and economic independence” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. 2).

Nkrumah was not sparing in his criticism of African educated elites who echoed calls
by colonial authorities for a gradual transition to self-government, along with the
maintenance of strong ties to the mother country in perpetuity—in other words,
neocolonialism. Here was a recipe for national development that combined what for
Nkrumah were antithetical concepts: democracy and colonialism. While the former promoted
freedom, independence, human dignity, and the building of institutions that fostered equality,
the latter was predicated on a “policy by which the ‘Mother Country,’ . . . binds her colonies
to herself by political ties with the primary objective of promoting her own economic
advantage. Such a system [Nkrumah argued] depends on the opportunities offered by the
natural resources of the colonies and uses for them suggested by the dominant economic
objectives of the colonial power” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. 2).

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 Nkrumah was also of the view that Africans needed no tutelage from the colonial
powers on how to govern themselves, given that prior to colonialism they had succeeded
reasonably well in this respect. “Wasn’t the African now considered ‘unprepared’ to govern
himself . . . by himself before the advent of Europeans [,] [he asked]?” Indeed, in his view,
the “African way of living even today is more democratic than the much vaunted
‘democratic’ manner of life and government of the ‘West’” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. 3), a view
wholeheartedly endorsed by Afrocentrists. European prescriptions for African governance,
he asserted, were hypocritical; while offering the promise of respecting the political right of
Africans to chart their own destiny, at least in principle, they did not aim at abrogating “the
legislative power [vested] . . . [in] the [British] Parliament . . . [with a view to ceding colonies
their independence] . . . Such an administrative system [is] not only the embodiment of
colonial chaos and political confusion, [it] . . . nullif[ies] the idea[l]s of true democracy”
(Nkrumah, 1962, p. 25).

According to Nkrumah, the solution to colonial domination lay in “political

independence” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. xv) achieved through African unity. The latter, Nkrumah
asserted, was a precondition for mobilizing the continent’s collective strength, which would
compel the colonial centre to grant independence. It was only through unity combined with
action that Africa would be positioned to (re)gain her independence from the “minute
minorities of alien stock” (Nkrumah, 1958, p. 47). This unity must, he warned, shun ethnic
and other narrow interests and coalesce around a “national entity” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. 33).
Above all else, unity, according to Nkrumah, required an “eager and earnest collaboration
[among Africans]” (Nkrumah, 1962, p. xvi). Africa’s independence can only be achieved by
Africans at a place and time of their own choosing, Nkrumah argued (Nkrumah, 1962; 1968).
No White nation, he opined, could free Africa, a thesis that later came to inform, I would
argue, liberation struggles in Algeria, Rhodesia, South West Africa, and South Africa as well
as those of Blacks in the United States. Writes Nkrumah:

The idea that Britain, France or any other colonial power is holding colonies
under ‘trusteeship’ until, in their opinion, the colonies become ‘capable’ of
self-government is erroneous and misconceived. . . . To imagine that these
colonial powers will hand freedom and independence to their colonies on a

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 silver platter without compulsion is the height of folly. (Nkrumah, 1962, pp.
xvi-xvii)

According to Nkrumah, Black freedom cannot be realized through the auspices or

good graces of the colonial powers; no number of conferences or round-table discussions
aimed at charting the destiny of colonial peoples could have any purchase in this regard.
Thus, he cautioned against accepting “gifts” “charity,” [and] “grants” (Nkrumah, 1962, p.
xvii) bestowed upon Africans as tokens of White benevolence.

Despite grave doubts concerning the merits of some African leaders, Nkrumah argued
that Africa’s fate lay with its anticolonial intellectuals and leadership. The continent’s long-
term interests could be advanced, he believed, only by elected public officials who
understood the hypocritical and oppressive ethos of colonialism and were committed, albeit
at a cost, to fighting it. To wage this battle, he claimed, would require a strong sense of
agency on the part of Africans. Nkrumah also believed that Africa’s transformation could be
achieved through an intellectual revolution, aimed at, among other things, formulating an
educational model informed by a pride in Africa, in its disparate peoples and in their
contributions to world civilization. Once independence had been won, the challenges
confronting the newly-independent African nations would, he theorized, undermine, their
independence unless anticolonial intellectuals and leaders formed a bulwark against
neocolonialism, a variant of colonialism, using soft power and operating under the aegis of
corrupt indigenous leaders. Only African intellectuals and leaders, Nkrumah argued, were
capable of uniting the continent in opposition to the colonial metropolis bent upon exploiting
the continent’s natural resources and low-wage labour. Abandoning their anticolonial
position, Nkrumah believed, would amount to “welcom[ing] with open arms the very
[enemy] which [Africans have] sought to destroy at [a] cost of terrible suffering” (Nkrumah,
1964, p. 103). Nkrumah presentiment, of what might befall Africa if she failed to draw upon
her indigenous strengths and exercise ownership of her resources has sadly been vindicated;
the continent remains divided, destitute and entirely dependent on Europe and China for
investment.

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3.7. Afrocentric Theory:
The Civil Rights and Post-Civil Rights Period

Afrocentricity, which is based on Afrocentric Theory (AT) draws its inspiration from
the struggle against Black oppression, the latter a phenomenon that, while global in scope,
was most deeply entrenched in the US. AT rose to prominence in the US at the time of the
Civil Rights and Black Panther movements, i.e., during the 1960s. The sources of its
inspiration were threefold: the African independence movement, which emerged following
World War II; the decolonization of Africa and Asia beginning in the late 1940s with the
withdrawal of Britain from the Indian subcontinent; and the writings of some of Africa's
most prominent anti-colonial leaders, including Kwame Nkrumah, Sekou Toure, and Julius
Nyerere, all of whom rejected European “myths of African inferiority” (Lynn, 2004, pp. 157-
158) and called for Black unity and liberation across the Atlantic.

Asante (2003) defines Afrocentricity as:

A mode of thought and action in which the centrality of African interests,

values, and perspectives predominate. . . . [It] is the centerpiece of [African]
regeneration. It challenges and takes to task the perpetuation of White racial
supremacist ideas in the imagination of the African world. . . . It has become
revolutionary, [a]ttacking the falsification of truth and attitudes of self-hatred
that have oppressed a great many [Africans]. Thus, Afrocentricity is
purposeful, giving a true sense of identity [to Africans] based upon the facts of
[their] history and experience. Afrocentricity is . . . associated with the
discovery . . . of African agency within the context of history and culture. (pp.
2-3).

According to Asante (1998), Afrocentricity challenges and subverts dominant

formulations, suppositions and typecasts that refute and/or falsify “African classical thought
[and] . . . classical past . . . essentially [leaving Africans] with a discontinuous history and
uncertain future” (Asante, 1998, p. 11). Afrocentricity seeks to salvage and promote African
history and contributions to humankind by “reestablish[ing] the centrality of the ancient
Kemetic (Egyptian) civilization and the Nile Valley cultural complex as points of reference
for an African perspective in much the same way that Greece and Rome serve as reference
points for the European world” (Asante, 1998, p. 11). Afrocentricity is a model of thought

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that, though routinely accused by its many critics of being blinkered, welcomes diversity of
thought.

According to Mazama (2001), Afrocentricity is a theory of humanity in all of its

aspects and conditions. It is therefore a theory of the oppressed, delineating the “disturbing
conditions of African people [and prescribing a] remedy” (Mazama, 2001, p. 387). And it is
also a theory of resistance that contests the validity of Eurocentric histories as well as the
privileging of those histories in public education. As a pluralist theory, it rejects dominant
narratives that celebrate Whites as the principal contributors to civilization, while
“relegate[ing] [African knowledge systems] to . . . the margins” (Mazama, 2001, p. 387).
One of the central tenets of Afrocentricity, Mazama argues, is that in the context of public
education and schooling, Africans students are subordinated to Whites, by means of either
compulsion or socialization. Addressing this inequity, Mazama argues, requires critiquing
European models of thought and substituting in their place Afrocentric knowledge, which
alone is capable of meeting the needs and advancing the interests of these students.
According Mazama (2001), Africans can achieve their potential by interrogating what passes
for universal knowledge and internalizing ways of thinking that reflect an African cultural
ethos:

How many of us have really paused to seriously examine and challenge such
ideas as development, planning, progress, the need for democracy, and the
nation-state as the best form of political and social organization, to name only
a few? Our failure to recognize the roots of such ideas in the European
cultural ethos has led us, willingly or unwillingly, to agree to [our] footnote
status in the White man’s book. . . . We do not exist on our own terms but on
borrowed, European ones. We are dislocated, and having lost sight of
ourselves in the midst of European decadence and madness . . . Our liberation
. . . rests upon our ability to systematically displace European ways of
thinking, being, feeling, being, . . . and replac[ing] them with ways that are
germane to our African cultural experience. (pp. 387-388)

Afrocentric theorists believe that Black liberation across the globe is possible only if
those of African descent can break free of the neo-colonial and racist ideas that demean them
and naturalize their oppression and begin to affirm their freedom and autonomy. They also

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held that achieving Black freedom could be accelerated by building a Pan-African alliance
aimed at resisting racial oppression, promoting Black freedom, and showcasing Africa’s
contributions to civilization (Austin, 2006; Diop, 1974; Ginwright, 2004; Keto, 2001)—
something the continent and its people had been denied by the architects of colonial
education and knowledge systems.

As an oppositional paradigm, AT rejects European racist perceptions of Black people;

it also rejects White supremacy and the Eurocentric scholarship underwriting it. According to
Asante, Black freedom is attainable if Blacks can only free themselves from an “intellectual
plantation” that valorizes European thought as universal (Asante, 2007, p. 7). According to
Asante (2007), intellectual autonomy is possible only if Africans eschew Eurocentric
constructs in favour of African-oriented paradigms that offer them the sense of agency and
empowerment requisite for assuming control over their destiny.

The dominance of Eurocentric values in education and other areas, Asante and other
Afrocentrists argue, stems from the resilience and adaptability of Eurocentric knowledge
systems and their power to instill in the minds of people of African descent the belief that
their future and that of Africa is contingent upon internalizing White values and worldviews
(Asante, 2007; Keto, 2001). For its proponents, AT represents a milestone in the intellectual
growth of Black people and in their opposition to dominant epistemologies that for the
longest time have defined them as subjects to be worked upon and continue to do so today
with little resistance. AT creates a space, proponents argue, wherein African knowledge
systems are not only respected and legitimized and their producers acknowledged, but also
perceived to possess analytical frameworks capable of explicating African history and culture
from the standpoint of people of African descent—analytical frameworks on a par with their
dominant counterparts in terms of theoretical value. Underlying AT is the view that Africans
everywhere can and must take ownership of their destiny rather than allow themselves to
become a footnote to European history (Asante, 2003; Keto, 2001). In sum, AT promotes a
thought process that enables people of African descent to see for themselves, hear for
themselves, think for themselves, and make decisions for themselves without second-
guessing themselves or turning to colonial orthodoxies (Asante, 1993; Keto, 2001).

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 As a prerequisite for winning their freedom, Africans, Asante contends, must reject
ideas that work to reproduce European domination, e.g., the proposition, taken from the
playbook of biological determinism and colonial anthropology, and aimed at sowing
divisions among the colonized, that the lighter the skin tone, the higher the position on the
evolutionary ladder. Afrocentricity, Asante contends, equips Africans with the critical
faculties to penetrate the veil of ideologies and practices that serve to perpetuate White
domination. One particularly insidious practice indulged in by American slave owners
involved bestowing Christian names upon Black slaves, thus undermining their African
identity. Notes Asante (2003):

Defined collectively by Whites as “Negroes” and identified individually by

White names, we are bodies without spirit [and] people without dignity . . .
How we perceive ourselves influences how others perceive us. . . . A Muslim
takes an Arabic name, a Christian takes a Christian name; [Africans] take
African names . . . The ideology of liberation must find its existence in
ourselves; it cannot be external to us, and it cannot be imposed by those other
than ourselves; it must be derived from our particular historical and cultural
experience. (p. 41)

According to Asante (2003), Afrocentricity provides Africans with the critical

faculties to “uncover all falsehoods, expose fake issues, [and] demonstrate the overpowering
effect of a committed will [to] chang[e] behaviors” (p. 111). Changing behaviours, however,
requires first regaining a sense of the legitimacy of African culture and of an African
worldview predicated upon it. Writes Asante (1998):

If we have lost anything [as Africans], it is our cultural centeredness; that is,
we have been moved off our own platforms. This means that we cannot truly
be ourselves or know our potential since we exist in a borrowed space. . . .
Our existential relationship to be the culture that we have borrowed defines
what and who we are at a given moment. By regaining our own cultural
spaces, and believing that our ways of viewing the universe are just as valid as
any, we will achieve the kind of transformation that we need to participate
fully in a multicultural society. . . . Without this kind of centeredness, we
bring nothing to the multicultural table, but a darker version of Whiteness. (p.
8)

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 Afrocentricity, according to Asante, functions as an earthwork, behind which African
knowledge production can proceed relatively unimpeded by European knowledge systems. It
denies Eurocentrists the freedom to define their “European line [of thinking] as “universal
[thus further] hinder[ing the] cultural understanding [of Africans] and demean[ing their]
humanity” (Asante, 1998, p. 11).

Abarry posits that AT is a philosophical proposition based on the assumption that

“anything meaningful and authentic [with respect to] peoples of African descent must begin
and proceed with Africa as the center, not [the] periphery” (as cited in Schiele, 1994, p. 152).
An African-centred theory gives Africans due credit as repositories of African knowledge, a
view shared by Bekerie. According to the latter, Afrocentricity interjects into modern-day
scholarship a model of thought that examines “African cultures and history from [African]
centres and locations . . . [with a view to] validat[ing], regenerat[ing] creat[ing], and
perpetuat[ing] African life and living—whole and unhindered, [with an] . . . African . . .
outlook” (Bekerie, 1994, p. 131). Bekerie defines Afrocentricity as a body of philosophical
thought like no other. Sometimes described as a theory of confrontation, Afrocentricity
challenges ignorance, particularly among dominant scholars, essayists, and pundits whose
understanding of African history is informed by colonial anthropology and racist constructs
(Bekerie, 1994).

3.8. Afrocentric Theory:

The Criticisms

AT is not without its critics whose positions range from the antagonistic (Cobb, 1997;
Dick, 1995) to the moderate (Gates, 1991) to the constructive (Walcott, 1997; Collins, 2006),
depending on their respective views on African identity and history and their respective
worldviews. These contestations foreground the notion that the African identity is not
seamless or monolithic as rightwing Afrocentric scholars argue; rather, it is variable and thus
determined by factors beyond skin colour or affiliation, real or imagined, with the African
Homeland.

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 Prominent among these critics is Myers, who in “Changing Attitudes about Race”
asserts:

Afrocentrism defies a single definition. Like pornography or obscenity, we

know it when we see it. Sometimes I wish that Afrocentrism were a four-letter
word and that we could just dispense with it as such. Afrocentrism, in my
view is all three—fake, primitive, and anti-intellectual. I believe for scholars
to get not just upset at Afrocentrism, but angry. Scholars will have to take on
their fellow academicians—not just in academic journals and in their
publications, but on their own campuses and on the campuses where
Afrocentrists have their strongholds. We need to recognize that the
marketplace of ideas requires not only debate, but debaters. We need to get
busy. (Myers as cited in Bekerie, 1994, p. 140)

According to Verharen (2003), the brand of Afrocentricity espoused by Asante and

like-minded Afrocentric scholars is premised on two fundamental tenets: “true self-
knowledge must be grounded in one’s own historical context; and self-knowledge properly
pursued yields personal agency moving toward a global community that preserves cultural
differences” (pp. 73-74). Verharen argues that critics of Afrocentricity very often confuse the
Afrocentric “movement with Afrocentrism” (p. 74):

[While] some proponents of Afrocentrism deserve criticism for their

undocumented and contentious claims . . . Afrocentricity must be singled out
as a unique version of Afrocentrism with a distinctive methodology . . . In its
most neutral guise, [Afrocentricity] is simply a research methodology. (p. 74)

Verharen (2003) identifies three variants of Afrocentrism, which critics, he contends,

often conflate, thereby failing to recognize Asante’s brand for what it really is: a
philosophical body of thought as well as a methodological approach to studying people of
African descent:

[The first variant of Afrocentrism] sympathize[s] with Africans on the African

continent or in the diaspora. Proponents of this form of Afrocentrism see the
world through Africana eyes and reinterpret world history by filtering it
through the viewpoint of Africana experience. . . . The second kind of
Afrocentrism expresses a philosophy of vindicationism that challenges the
European tradition of denying the humanity of Africans. A popular variants of
vindicationism called the “Nile Valley Afrocentrism” claims that the ancient

88
 Egyptians were Black and that their traditions formed the basis of European
civilization. . . . A third kind of Afrocentrism goes beyond vindicationism to a
philosophy (perhaps an ideology) of Black supremacy. Citing environmental,
cultural, or genetic reasons for Africana superiority, proponents of this form
of Afrocentrism argue that not only were Africans the first civilized peoples
but they have also proven themselves to be far more civilized than barbaric
Europeans could ever hope to be. (pp. 74-75)

Verharen simplifies Afrocentricity with a view to reducing the confusion that has so
confounded critics. The “Afro” in ‘Afrocentricity’ [Verharen points out] reflects a
commitment to the idea that all humans are Africans in origin, the ‘centricity’ a commitment
to the idea that people must center themselves in their own cultural experience” (Verharen,
2003, p. 79). According to Verharen, Afrocentricity is by no means exclusionary; indeed, it
welcomes non-Blacks to imbibe the African “way of cultural self-knowledge” (Verharen,
2003, p. 75).

According to Verharen (2003), far from promoting racial superiority, Afrocentricity is

premised on respect for all races, ethnicities, cultures and ways of knowing. What
Afrocentricity contests is the passing off of Eurocentric knowledge as universal to the
detriment of alternative knowledge systems. According to its principal luminaries,
Afrocentricity embodies inclusivity, tolerance and harmony:

While all of Afrocentricity’s founders support close study of Africa’s

tradition, none of them deny the importance of European cultures—for Whites
and Blacks and other humans. In fact, most of them were strongly influenced
by their exposure to European traditions in Europe itself. Du Bois’s ideas
about global unity through cultural complementarity were current at the
University of Berlin, where he was a student during the 1890s. Locke’s
cosmopolitanism was nourished in the company of fellow Rhodes scholars
from around the world at Oxford in the early 1900s. Though he was born and
raised in the Caribbean, Fanon’s French education familiarized him with
philosophers from Hegel to Sartre. While Diop was born and raised in West
Africa, his explicit references to European classicists and Egyptologists who
believed in the African origins of European civilization reflects his many
years at the Sorbonne. (p. 78)

According to Verharen (2003), “no theory covers all possible experiences for all
times and places” (p. 85), a view shared by Mazama (2001). Mazama states: “[t]he

89
Afrocentric Idea . . . means viewing the European voice as just one among many and not
necessarily the wisest one” (p. 388). To underscore Afrocentricity’s inclusivity, Verharen
(2003) cites the “Out of Africa” hypothesis that holds that regardless of race, there is more
that unites than divides us. This hypothesis, Afrocentrists argue, entreats us to move beyond
the artificial construct of race and find ways to live together in harmony, notwithstanding our
differences. Asserts Verharen:

[Afrocentricity] offers a philosophy that brings all people together. Describing

humanity’s African origins as an accident of geography, [Afrocentricity] does
not privilege Africans over any other group of people. Rather, [it] suggests
that we maintain our individual cultural differences yet use our common
origins as a foundation for a new global civilization that can stand against
[oppression]. In this new world community, [Afrocentricity] can enhance
cross-cultural intimacy to unite the world. (p. 78)

From an Afrocentric perspective, peaceful coexistence is possible provided the dominant

order accepts and respects African-based knowledge systems, history, cultures, and practices
that Africans deem essential to their survival (Verharen, 2003).

Cobb (1997) dismisses Afrocentric scholarship as “cut-and-paste soundbites of . . . a

hyperblack mosaic of ideas, rites, and pratices” (p. 123) and AT as “chauvinist
demagoguery” (p. 123). He has this to say about Asante:

Asante’s Afrocentricity (1980) [emphasis in original] became the text that

reincarnated the movement. Though Asante jacked his predecessors for their
ideas and his book is a mosaic of concepts espoused by other thinkers, it
pushed Asante and the ill-defined “ism” into the forefront of the intellectual
warfare of the 80s. (p. 128)

Cobb’s criticism of Afrocentricity is personal. He disregards a normative injunction that

applies to all critical scholarship: focus on ideas and steer clear of ad hominem attacks. His
indictment of Afrocentricity denies his audience the opportunity to form their own views.
His critique of AT, moreover, lends credence to the claim made by proponents that White
supremacists and their Black allies find its propositions pertaining to Black intellectual
emancipation to be disconcerting, and for this reason, they seek to discredit it, along with its

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principal supporters. In a critique of Collins’ Black Power and Hip Hop: Racism
Nationalism and Feminism (2006), Asante characterizes the author’s understanding of
Afrocentric thought as pedestrian and the author herself as a “vulgar careerist whose plan is
to distance [herself] from African agency” (Asante, 2007 p. 18).

According to Dick (1995), AT promotes epistemic violence (Dick, 1995). He sees the
theory as a “reactive” project aimed at subverting “Eurocentric values” and “hegemony” and
Afrocentrists as a “coterie of Black scholars driven by a single goal: to discredit Eurocentric
thought with a view to promoting the “self-affirmation . . . [of an] oppressed and
marginalized peoples” (Dick, 1995, p. 196). Offering no supporting evidence of any
substantive kind, he dismisses Afrocentrists as implacable revisionists keen to Africanize
Black history by marshaling evidence purporting to show that, for example, ancient Egypt,
not Greece, was the font of Western civilization. Afrocentricity has also been criticized for
denigrating Black gay men (Austin, 2006; Cobb, 1997). Afrocentric psychologist Wade
Noble, for instance, describes homosexuality as a “self-destructive disorder” (Austin, 2006,
p. 159), a label that works to normalize violence directed against this already vulnerable
minority. The danger here is that such views could be exploited by AT proponents to justify
policing every moral space in the Black community and excluding those whose actions and
practices they consider to be abnormal and unacceptable.

In a Newsweek article titled “Beware of the New Pharaoh”, Gates (1991) dismisses
Afrocentricity as little more than polemics while questioning its methodological rigor. He
goes on to describe the theory as an ideology that internalizes conformity and fosters a
contempt for alternative theoretical frameworks, particularly those viewed as mainstream and
or in opposition to African-centred constructs and/or narratives. According to Gates, the aim
of African-American Studies should be to inquire into the complexities of being of African
descent, rather than promoting an ethnic fundamentalism that eschews critical inquiry.
Argues Gates:

We need to explore the hyphen in African-American on both sides of the

Atlantic. We must chart the porous relations between an "American" culture
that officially pretends that Anglo-American regional [emphasis in original]

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 culture is the true, universal culture and the Black cultures it so long
stigmatized. We must also document both the continuities and discontinuities
between African and African American cultures, rather than to reduce the
astonishing diversity of African cultures to a few simple-minded shibboleths.
(p. 47)

Gates (1991) dismisses the suggestion that Afrocentricity is, and ought to remain, an
exclusive area of expertise for Black scholars. The aims of Afrocentric scholarship, he
declares, are best served by promoting cross-racial, ethnic, gender, and cultural contributions.
Gates further declares that ideas should be judged on their merits, not the race of their
proponents. Spurning alternative ideas, he warns, is analogous to barring Black scholars
from disciplines thought too mainstream or female scholars from writing on issues deemed
outside their province simply because they are women. Writes Gates:

In short, [Afrocentricity] is not just for Blacks; [the] subject [should be]
open[ed] to all—to study or teach. The fundamental premise of the academy is
that all things ultimately are knowable; all are therefore teachable. . . . We do
nothing to help our discipline by attempting to make of it a closed shop, where
only Blacks need apply. . . . Nobody comes into the world as a "Black" person
or a "White" person: these identities are conferred on us by a complex history,
by patterns of social acculturation that are both surprisingly labile and
persistent. Social identities are never as rigid as we like to pretend: they are
constantly being contested and negotiated. For a scholar, "Afrocentrism"
should mean more than wearing Kente cloth and celebrating Kwanza instead
of Christmas. . . . [or supporting] bogus theories of "sun" and "ice" people and
the invidious scapegoating of other ethnic groups . . . —which too many of the
pharaohs of "Afrocentrism" have accepted without realizing. We must not . . .
resurrect our own version of the thought police, who would determine who,
and what, is “Black". (p. 47)

In situating Africa’s greatness within the context of ancient Egyptian civilization,

moreover, AT has laid itself open to charges of myth making; there exists not a shred of
evidence to connect the history and culture of the entire African continent with that of
ancient Egypt (Lefkowitz, 1996). Such a position, critics argue, can only encourage those
already disposed to fantasizing about their cultural roots; it can offer no basis for a serious
historical investigation of any facet of Black culture. Apart from forging spurious links
between ancient Egypt and Black Africa, AT tends to focus on a past dominated by the

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exploits of Kings and Queens, leaving it open to charges of sentimentalizing African history;
there is, too, a fascination with the subjugation of Africa by the great European powers,
which has the effect of signifying the continent as a victim of European avarice and
barbarity, while at the same time attributing its underdevelopment solely to the imperatives
of colonial metropolises, in the process denying Africa an independent place in history in the
process formulating for Africa a history of dependency (Schreiber, 2000).

Lefkowitz views the Afrocentric project as part historical revisionism, part polemic
and part anodyne. Lefkowitz dismisses the claim made by Afrocentric scholars that the great
philosophers of classical Greece were heavily indebted to the ancient Egyptians. Moreover,
she describes Afrocentric scholars as “living in sealed-off intellectual ghettoes, impervious to
information from the outside and paying no attention to the truth of their propositions; . . .
[as] concerned purely with the ‘feel good’ factor and with boosting the low self-esteem of
African Americans” (Lefkowitz as cited in Bernal, 1996, p. 86). The debates between
Afrocentrists and Eurocentrists too often degenerate into name-calling. Whereas for
Afrocentric scholars the prime objective lies in creating a space for African-centered
knowledge systems, Eurocentric scholars are preoccupied with asserting White intellectual
dominance.

Critics of Afrocentricity argue that in rejecting Western paradigms on the grounds

that they are ill-equipped to speak to the Black experience, Afrocentricity is guilty of
essentialism as well as a breach of “paradigmatic pluralism” (Schreiber, 2000, p. 656).
Moreover, in labeling Western philosophical thought as Eurocentric without taking into
consideration its many variations, Afrocentricity loses sight of “intellectual traditions [that
arose] in response to hegemony and oppression” (Schreiber, 2000, p. 659) and whose
principal advocates are White, e.g., Feminist Theory and Critical Theory.

Collins criticizes Afrocentric scholars for failing to give the experience of Black
women the prominence it deserves. Collins argues that AT and Afrocentrists relegate Black
women to the role of secondary actors, which is hardly surprising given that “neither
Afrocentric intellectual production . . . nor Afrocentrism in the academy has shown a

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sustained interest in gender” (Collins, 2006, p. 98). It is a mindset that views Black women’s
experience as undeserving of intellectual exploration (Collins, 2006). In failing Black women
in this regard, AT is partly responsible, Collins suggests, for their oppression. At the same
time, in its emphasis on traditional gender roles in the African-American family,
Afrocentricity naturalizes the role of Black women as “wives” and “mothers” (Collins, 2006,
p. 107) and that of Black men as breadwinners. This kind of signification, she argues,
restricts Black women to the private sphere of the family, limiting their role to child rearing
and homemaking and thus severely limiting opportunities for employment outside the
home—an arrangement whereby Black women remain financially dependent on Black men,
a principal cause of poverty, or so it is argued, among Black families.

Afrocentricity, Collins asserts, imposes and enforces patriarchal canons that hinder
Black women from exercising autonomy while investing Black men with unwarranted power
in the sphere of gender relations. For their part, Black women, and particularly Black female
scholars, who reject patriarchy are either ignored or condemned as “traitors to the [Black]
race, too ‘White,’ or lesbians” (Collins, 2006, p. 111). She further asserts that a patriarchal
mindset suffuses the views on gender relations held by some Afrocentrists, citing as an
example a statement issued by Imamu Amiri Baraka, a prominent Black cultural nationalist:
“We [Black men] don’t believe in the equality of men and women. . . . We could never be
equals” (Collins, 2006, p. 107).

Even though crediting Asante for encouraging Afrocentric scholars to acknowledge

the contributions made by Black women to Black history, Collins dismisses his overtures as
nothing more than platitudes. By focusing primarily on race, she contends, AT ignores the
intersectionality of race, class, gender and sexuality and its impact on Black women. Overall,
the Afrocentric approach to gender relations fails to capture in all of their richness and
fullness the experiences and struggles of Black women. And apart from publicizing in a very
circumscribed way those experiences and struggles through collaborative work with Black
female scholars, Afrocentric male scholars have done little, Collins asserts, to interrogate the
asymmetrical power relations existing between Black men and women (Collins, 2006). She
further asserts that while Afrocentric scholars have come to recognize the achievements of

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Black women over the years, they have done so in ways that avoid challenging the
patriarchal order.

According to Collins (2006), the experiences and achievements of Black women are
invariably referenced to those of men. In labeling Harriet Tubman the “Moses of Her
People,” (p. 113) for example, Afrocentric scholars come to judge her deeds and
accomplishments by “male standards of military leadership and warfare” (p. 113). Thus, the
greatness of Black women can only be acknowledged in reference to patriarchal values and
standards, their success celebrated only under conditions and terms dictated by Black men.

Despite these many and varied criticisms, Collins recognizes the importance of AT
and the efforts of Afrocentric scholars to promote in Blacks a consciousness of themselves as
a people and an awareness of the challenges that confront them across the globe. It should
also be pointed out, and to the credit of Afrocentric scholars, that some of the issues and
concerns Collins raises, and particularly gender inequality, are today less egregious. To their
credit, Afrocentric scholars have come out publicly against gender inequality (Asante, 2007).
In Afrocentricity: The theory of social change, Asante writes that Afrocentrists are “against
all forms of oppression, including racism, classism, homophobia, patriarchy, child abuse,
pedophilia and White racial domination” (Asante, 2003, p. 2). Despite assurances on the part
of Asante that Afrocentricity is antithetical to all forms of oppression, some Black scholars
remain unconvinced. According to Wright (2000), the uncompromising posturing of
Afrocentrists against “tak[ing] up [European] discourses . . . could lead to extreme insularity,
minute and ineffective communities, self-marginalization and the restriction of the
development of [Afrocentric] discourse” (Wright, 2000, p. 129).

3.9. Afrocentric Education:

What Does It Mean and Why Is It Necessary?

I begin this section with a quote from McWhorter. I do so to with a view to refuting
his argument that we live in a post-racial world where race has no place in social discourse or
education. According to McWhorter, race does not matter very much, notwithstanding the

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stigma attached to those Caucasians so reckless as to criticize immigration policy on grounds
entirely divorced from race, e.g., economic or environmental. McWhorter has this to say of
Black students:

The sad and simple fact is that while there are some excellent Black students
. . . on average, Black students do not try as hard as other students. The
reason they do not try as hard is not because they are inherently lazy, nor is it
because they are stupid . . . these students belong to a culture infected with an
anti-intellectual strain, which subtly but decisively teaches them from birth
not to embrace schoolwork too whole-heartedly. (McWhorter as cited in
Solórzano & Yosso, 2001, p. 2)

McWhorter's remarks which supposedly explain the poor performance of Black

students highlight one thing: it is no longer acceptable to attribute academic failure to race;
rather, if one is to avoid being branded a racist, a tactical shift is required: the “root [cause] of
minority children’s failure” (Philips as cited in Ogbu, 1995a, p. 189) is now to be explained
in terms, not of race, but of Black culture and the Black family—so goes the argument
advanced by those who still believe that Blacks are a lost cause and should be left to their
own devices. Afrocentrists, it goes without saying, reject this view, pinning the blame instead
on colonial education for which there exists, happily, an obvious corrective.

AE is an eclectic concept; it means different things to different people. Differing

definitions and interpretations complicate the effort to formulate a precise definition. For
Henry (1993), AE constitutes "an alternative, oppositional, and liberatory pedagogy for
children of African descent [attending Canadian] schools” (p. 212), a definition that goes
beyond a simplistic perception of it as exclusionary, revisionist, and anti-White. Citing Clark,
Henry (1993) argues that AE is "not only as a pedagogy of Black self-representation, but . . .
a form of "diaspora literacy . . . [and that it provides Black students with the] ability to read
and comprehend the discourses of Africa, Afro-America and the Caribbean from an informed
[and] indigenous perspective" (p. 214). Citing Joseph, Henry (1993) contends: "The
Afrocentric conceptual system is not exclusively Black or exclusively African. It is a journey
toward wholeness that requires seeing the world not [as] Black or White, but in its full
spectrum" (p. 214).

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 From Henry’s definition, one may gather that the goal of a liberatory education, of
which AE is a prime example, can be achieved, so its proponents claim, by making the
school curriculum all-inclusive, by which they mean incorporating a comprehensive history
of Black people. This gamut of ideas and perspectives, situated within and outside AE,
positions this educational model to "challenge the foundations of the Western world and its
legacy of colonialism" (Henry, 1993, p 214), the latter constituting one of the principal
factors responsible for the disaffection and underachievement of Black students.

Dei and Kempf (2011) define Afrocentric education as “pedagogic initiatives, . . .

built on a philosophy of education that integrates teachings of culture, identity and history. . .
used as cornerstones for both social and academic excellence” (para. 10). They further
contend that Afrocentric teachings are “rooted in a worldview that espouses social
responsibility, community belonging, mutual interdependence, respect for self, group and
community, authority and the duties of citizen responsibility" (para. 11).

Gordon (1993) defines AE as an alternative pedagogic framework that incorporates

African-centred perspectives. This approach, she argues, allows Black students to gain the
knowledge requisite for effecting change, to improve the self, and to confront societal
barriers to social justice. In her view AE examines taken-for-granted experiences.
Incorporating African history, achievement and heroes, Gordon claims, builds in Black
students the confidence and knowledge base essential to interrogating topics often avoided in
the public school system for fear of affronting racial sensibilities. AE, she argues, helps
students gain the confidence necessary to deconstruct dominant canons, knowledge,
traditions, and values passed off as natural and universal, the therefore legitimate. Thus,
European knowledge systems presented as such may no longer be seen as applicable to
defining the trajectory of Black history and the African experience (Gordon, 1993; James,
2011; Keto, 2001; King & Wilson, 1994).

Based on Gordon’s definition, I view AE as an educational model possessing a

critical orientation, that of interrogating hegemonic knowledge systems and encouraging
Black students to resist dominant discourses that distort the Black experience. At the core of

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the AE philosophy, moreover, lies a pedagogic imperative: the African reality must be
included as part of the school curriculum if Black students are to reclaim their ‘voice.’ That
is, only by pluralizing ‘truth,’ as opposed to pressing it into the service of advancing
dominant agendas, will Black students be able at last to share their stories without fear of
being judged or of their accounts being dismissed as inconsequential. For many Black
students—and clearly from an Afrocentric educational standpoint, “truth” exists in the
struggle of the oppressed.

In his most forceful indictment of colonial and Eurocentric education, Carruthers

argues that the crisis facing the African intellectual, both young and old, was the result of the
enduring legacy of colonial and Eurocentric education—a legacy that accounts for his/her
rejecting the wisdom and erudition of African scholars in favour of that of their foreign
counterparts (Carruthers, 1994). The primary goal of Afrocentric education, argues
Carruthers, (1994) is to save Africans, especially the young, from the intellectual dislocation
stemming from a European-oriented education. What Afrocentric education does, or seeks to
do, Carruthers asserts, is to turn the African inward so as to appreciate African-oriented
knowledge systems and to be part of an alternative knowledge-based revolution that centres
African achievements and promotes Africa’s interests and Pan-African unity. Thus, it may be
inferred that Afrocentric education represents a sine qua non for the struggle on the part of
Africans to liberate their minds and win freedom from (neo)colonialism (Carruthers, 1994).
Put another way Africanizing the mind is essential to transforming the African self.

Asante’s analysis of Afrocentric education is most instructive. Drawing on Woodson,

Asante (1991) argues that “[Blacks who] have been educated away from their own culture”
(p.170) face cultural dislocation. He contends that Blacks who were and are educated in
European educational systems tend to worship at the altar of European episteme while
rejecting their own culture and knowledge systems. According to Asante, if the traditional
objective of education is to “prepare [students] to become part of a social group,” then it is
not unreasonable to argue that societies founded on White supremacist values are likely to
“develop a White supremacist educational system” (p. 170), promote White superiority and
belittle African history and African capabilities. Taught in an environment that espouses

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White exceptionalism, moreover, White students are more likely to excel vis-à-vis their
Black peers.

According to Asante (1991), Afrocentric education focuses on the authentic

experiences and histories of Africans. In the Afrocentric classroom, students are introduced
to African histories, cultures, “heroes and heroines” (p. 171) from an African perspective free
of White bias, as evinced by, to take but one example, the “commie” label with which some
White Americans branded Dr. Martin Luther King (p. 175). Afrocentric education challenges
this kind of misrepresentation; thus, for example, Dr. King is presented as the liberator of an
oppressed people, wielding the Ghandian principle of non-violence, which remains, a
hallmark of so many democratic revolutions.

Where the standard Eurocentric curriculum routinely portrays Black students as

“objects” of ridicule, Afrocentric education transforms them into inquisitive subjects. It
teaches and empowers Black students to resist the European notion of Africans as passive
adjuncts of a White world, as men and women who were introduced to civilization by
Europeans. Black students learn to see themselves and their forebears as agents whose
contributions to humanity are of equal consequence to those made by Europeans (Asante,
1991). Afrocentric education provides Black students the strength of mind and the voice to
contest the assumption that European knowledge is universal and a true reflection of history.
It cultivates in them a voice with which to speak for themselves and on issues that affect
Africans using an African lens.

hooks’ (1989) examination of the role of the voice in the context of Black education
and liberation is edifying. According to this author, rather than silencing Black students, a
practice frowned upon by Black families, schools should encourage them to speak out.
Teaching Black students to cultivate a voice at an early age, argues hooks, affords them the
opportunity and instills in them the courage to speak as equals to authority. What I gather
from this author is that if encouraged, the oppressed can use their individual and collective
voice to claim ownership of their ideas and project their own reality. If I understand hooks
correctly, for Black students, the voice represents an ally in the battle against regulatory

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frameworks that proscribe Black history, practices and knowledge systems. According to this
author, silencing the voice of the individual or community, constitutes an “act of persecution,
torture—the terrorism that breaks the spirit . . . [and] makes creativity impossible” (pp. 7-8).

Analyzing the political effects of the voice, hooks (1989) writes:

For [the oppressed, the voice] is not solely an expression of creative power; it
is an act of resistance, a political gesture that challenges the politics of
domination that would render [the oppressed] nameless and voiceless. . . . It is
a courageous act [that] represents a threat [to dominant discourses and actors].
To those who wield oppressive power, that which is threatening must . . . be
wiped out, annihilated, [and] silenced [by an avalanche of voices issuing from
the oppressed]. (p. 8)

I gather from the above quotation that for the oppressed in general, and Black
students in particular, voice is weapon of liberation. In the context of the Toronto public
education system, it enables Black students to take a stand in defence of their history, thus
transforming them into something other than passive objects, “defined by others” (hooks,
1989, p. 12). Hearing one’s voice as it challenges Eurocentric distortions, the author
surmises, is liberating.

While Walcott is not an Afrocentrist and his work does not focus on AE specifically,
selected excerpts from his work offer useful insights regarding the situation in which Black
Canadian students find themselves today. Walcott suggests, moreover, that one way to
immortalize Black history and heroes is to restore "discredited" and "subjugated" (Walcott,
1997, p. 73) knowledge systems. According to Walcott, the revival and preservation of Black
history can be achieved by foregrounding the writings of Black scholars, e.g., Franz Fanon,
M. Nourbese Philip, Toni Morrison, Charles Johns and Edward Kamau Brathwaite, authors
whose works chronicle the horrifying “history/memory of the Middle Passage” (Walcott,
1997, p. 73).

What I gather from Walcott’s (1997) work is that the Black past and present in
Canada can be linked through "literatures of reconnection" (p. 73), which are crucial to
understanding the "social and cultural formation of Black diasporic communities and what

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those communities might share [or not share] beyond phenotype" (p. 73). I believe that in
using the term ‘literatures of reconnection’ Walcott is alluding to an alternative approach to
education that would raise Black consciousness and reclaim Black history, beginning with
the arrival in British North America of Black pioneers. Such a project would require the
production of oppositional narratives as a counterpoint to official accounts of Canada as anti-
slavery and as a sanctuary for enslaved Black Africans fleeing White plantations and
repressive slave laws. Reclaiming Black history in this fashion would enable Black students
to see themselves as actors rather than a people acted upon, which is how they are signified
in the colonial educational system.

In a 2006 survey of Black students conducted by the Toronto District School Board,
"72% of [the respondents] said they want to learn about their culture; 69% of them said they
would enjoy school more if they learned about their culture; and 50% said they would feel
better about school if they could learn about their history in the classroom. Moreover, in the
2007 School and Community Safety Advisory Report, it was noted that [Toronto] schools
where an [Afrocentric] curriculum was piloted . . . showed significant signs of increased
students achievement and engagement” (Toronto District School Board, n.d.).

The above reports reveal a very real enthusiasm on the part of Black students for a
culturally relevant education, i.e., another name for AE, as well as a desire to have it
implemented. As both Woodson (1933) and modern-day Afrocentrists (Lee, 1994) have
argued, Black students should learn the fundamentals of the English language by immersing
themselves in African folklore, philosophy and proverbs. They further propose that AE
feature African knowledge systems together with their European counterparts. Nor are
Afrocentric scholars averse to teaching students about the patriotism of White Canadians;
they merely insist that Black patriotism not be discounted, that histories like that of
Victoria’s Pioneer Rifle Company, aka the African Rifles, formed in 1861 (Kilian, 2008) to
defend the British Northwest from an American invasion, to cite but one example, not be
confined to dusty archives. If incorporated in school syllabi, histories of this kind would
apprise Black students of the willingness on the part of Black men to defend the British
Northwest even though they were being treated as second-class citizens; they would also

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provide Black students with a sense of Canada’s colonial history and an appreciation of the
country’s heritage, and particularly of the contribution of Black pioneers to nation building.
Making the curriculum inclusive and reflective of Canada’s true history would, for Black
students, make class discussions more interesting by presenting an alternative perspective
that highlighted the sacrifices made by their forbearers in building the Canadian nation—a
perspective to which they could relate personally and which might motivate them to learn
more.

Several studies have shown that tying learning to the lived experience of students
helps them build self-confidence and participate to a greater degree in class discussions
(Boykin, 1994; Dei et al., 1997; Lomotey & Brookins, 1988). Others (Dei et al., 1997; Dei,
1994) have revealed that presenting positive images of Black historical figures enhances the
self-image of Black students. Thus, for example, Black girls will take pride in the fact that
Maria Gibbs, the most educated woman in colonial Canada was Black; that Clarissa Richard,
one of the foremost advocates of female suffrage and an inveterate opponent of patriarchy,
was also Black; that Annie Norton, whose interracial marriage to John Norton, flew in the
face of convention, at the same time demonstrating that such unions represented an
arrangement between two human beings, not a contract between two unequal parties, that she
too was black (Kilian, 2008). The achievements of these women, and untold others,
exemplify the invaluable contributions of Black Canadians, and particularly women, to
Canadian history.

According to Boykin (1986), Eurocentric education cannot incorporate in the

curriculum historical narratives that challenge White supremacy or that would help address
the chronic problems afflicting Black students, i.e., poor grades, disaffection, and high
dropout rates (Boykin, 1986; Dei et al., 1997). AE, so its proponents claim, is the only way to
deprogram and reprogram Black students such that they are disposed to accepting a model of
knowledge that offers them positive perspectives on their heritage and inherent ability to
succeed if given equal opportunities and resources (Dei, 2008).

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3.10. Afrocentricity and Afrocentric Education in the
Context of Canadian Public Education

As stated in the introduction, Afrocentricity, which had its beginnings in the US, has
been taken up by African-Canadian scholars, among them George Sefa Dei, a professor with
the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, University of Toronto. “As someone who has
been at the forefront of debates and discussions about . . . Afrocentric schooling in the
Canadian context” (Dei, 2013, p. 121), Dei would prove to be a pivotal player in establishing
the Toronto Africentric Alternative School (TAAS), the first of its kind in the city. His
motivation to promote TAAS and AE was driven by the racial inequality he believed to
permeate the Toronto public school.

Of critical concern for Dei (2013), was the high dropout rate among Black students,
which had persisted for decades, despite the “lip service” (p. 119) paid by school authorities
to prioritizing educational reform. According to Dei, the chief barrier confronting Black
students was the absence of anything resembling inclusivity. In his view the sine qua non for
inclusive education was “equity, power, and knowledge. . . . [and a genuine willingness to]
engag[e] [in] multiple knowledge systems . . . to develop a complete understanding of the
history of ideas, events, practices, and experiences that have shaped and continue to shape
our worlds” (p. 119).

A principal source of inequity in the mainstream public education system, Dei argues,
is that it was designed to promote the heritage of a “certain class of people and uphold
particular social class values” (Dei, 2013, p. 120). Thus, not surprisingly, initiatives aimed at
reforming public education would be frustrated by efforts on the part of mainstream Whites
to maintain their supremacy. Moreover, so long as the status quo held, White students would
have a competitive advantage vis-à-vis their Black peers while the latter would become
increasingly alienated. According to Lee-Ferdinand “Eurocentric [education] has been
insidious in its universality, creating a common alienation among [Black students]” (as cited
in Dei, 1996b, p. 178).

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 Dei’s work changed the way some Canadians had traditionally perceived public
schools, i.e., as culturally neutral sites where all students, regardless of race or ethnicity, were
provided an equal opportunity to learn and develop. According to Dei, the public school
system had failed to introduce the reforms required to place Black students on an equal
footing with their White peers—equal representation in the school curriculum and pedagogy,
the hiring of additional Black teachers, and addressing the differential treatment of Black
students. What was required, in his view, was a rethinking of public education, with a view to
creating an alternative educational model “that will assist Black youth particularly to re-
invent their Africannes within a Diasporic context, and to create a way of being and thinking
congruent with positive African traditions and values” (Dei, 1996b, p. 178).

According to Dei (1996b), Afrocentric education affords the Black student a safe
environment in which to learn and think outside the limits imposed by a Eurocentric
education; it allows the student to “see and interpret the world through his or her own eyes,
rather than through those of the ‘other’” (p. 180). In this schema, the student is a co-producer
of knowledge, rather than a tabula rasa, which is currently the case throughout the public
school system. The Afrocentric model of education requires that the opinions and
experiences of Black students, the source of which is the family and community, are
incorporated into the curriculum, thus embedding them in the educational process where they
will help build family-school-community partnerships, whose stakeholders support a
common cause: the education and development of Black students. Once in place, such
partnerships will foster a “pedagogy of the home,” thus making “specific cultural values,
norms, social mores, and conduct in the delivery of education” (Dei, 1996b, p. 179).
Bringing the “home culture” to school is essential to applying the “concepts, explanations,
and interpretations of society that students derive from personal experiences in their homes,
families, and out-of-school communities” (Banks as cited in Dei, 1996b, p. 179) and to
“destabliz[ing] . . . the status quo . . . [and revealing] the contradictions inherent in . . . an
education not appropriately grounded in students’ lived experiences and cultural knowledge”
(Dei, 1996b, p. 179). Thus can the classroom serve as a setting where Black students see
“themselves] . . . as not enslaved, but free; not repulsive, but desirable; not helpless, but

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licensed and powerful; not history-less, but historical; not damned, but innocent; not a blind
accident of evolution, but a progressive fulfillment of destiny” (Morrison as cited in Dei,
1994, p. 4). Rather than constituting a hostile battlefield where the unfit are left to their own
devices, the classroom, under this stakeholder-driven regime, can be transformed into a
marketplace of “fresh ideas . . . [in] search [of] ways to educate a complex, diverse student
population” (Dei, 2013, p. 119). Another important function of TAAS and AE, Dei argues,
lies in rehabilitating and reaffirming the identity of Black students, which is essential to their
“intellectual and social growth” (Dei, 1996b, p. 170). This dual process of rehabilitation and
reaffirmation is predicated on membership to a collective, wherein Black students can learn
and socialize among their own kind, while being supported by the community both inside
and outside the school (Dei, 2008, 2013). Writes Dei (1996b):

Afrocentric [education] and pedagogy encourage student-student, student-

teacher, and student-teacher-parent interactions that lead to mutual learning.
Students teach about their out-of-school cultures, and parents . . . and elders
come to [the] school to teach about respect, authority, and communal
responsibility . . . Students and parents also become part of a team running the
school; they sit on school committees that make major decisions affecting
students’ school lives . . . . (p. 181)

One of Dei’s most important contributions lies in reversing the public perception of
TAAS and AE as a Black version of Eurocentric education (Dei, 1996b). According to Dei,
nothing could be farther from the truth; what TAAS and AE really represent is a “counter-
vision of schooling . . . to promote alternative educational outlets [for marginalized
students]” (Dei, 2013, p. 119). Thus, they aim, firstly, at remapping the public education
system to reduce the preponderance of European narratives and their racist representations of
Black Canadians. Second, they provide “an alternative [setting] . . . to decolonize and reclaim
. . . the myriad identi(ies), knowledge(s) and experience(s)” (Dei, 2013, p. 120). To combat
centuries of colonization and its corollary, the erasure of an African identity, Afrocentric
education, Dei argues, seeks to interrogate and replace a European-based curriculum,
complemented, by a pedagogy aimed at “devaluing and de-privileging [Black] history and
ancestral knowledge in Euro-[Canadian schools]” (Dei, 1996b, p. 171). According to Dei,
only when Black knowledge systems are centered in an Afrocentric educational setting can

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Black students come to appreciate their heritage, perceive themselves to be empowered, and
be adequately equipped to apply what they have learned to the broader social context.

3.11. Criticism of Dei and Afrocentric Education in Canada

In the Canadian context, in “Social Justice and Public Education: A Response to

George J. Sefa Dei,” Lund (1998) argues that AT “create[s] a synthetic universality” (p. 194).
Thus, for example, in its oversimplification of race, AT dismisses the multiplicity of
identities and ethnic categories that fall within the scope of an African-Canadian identity.
Thus, while “individuals [Canadians] continue to form their self-identities throughout their
lives [in multicultural Canada], [they are subject to] an ongoing, complex interweaving of
such intangible social signifiers as culture, colour, ethnicity, language, and religion” (pp.
193-194) that preclude anything like a racial-cultural uniformity that might work to
legitimize a Black authenticity.

Yet another criticism of AT is that it essentializes a Black identity, thus implying that
Black people are indistinguishable from one another, at least in some, if not most, respects,
and that the transgressions of the individual are attributable to the collective—notions that
serve to reinforce deep racial prejudices. Walcott rejects the concept of Black essentialism,
arguing that far from being monolithic, the Black Canadian identity extends beyond fixed
“biological” and ethnic" categories (Walcott, 1997, p. xv).

In posing the question "Can African-Americans represent the locality of Black

Canadian political concerns?" (Walcott, 1997, p. 26), Walcott argues that Black Canadian
identity is an artificial construct. He goes on to problematize the Afrocentric view, usually
only implied, that every Black person has a connection to Africa through slavery by pointing
out that it fails to take into account how identity is invented and reinvented as well as the
processes of hybridization through marriage and cultural appropriation. Thus, while it may be
instrumental to project a racial sameness for political and strategic reasons, this does not

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collapse the differences among Black Canadians however much some may wish to view
themselves as part of a monolithic Black nation.

Wright’s (1994a) criticism of Afrocentric education and Afrocentricity goes to the

heart of and beyond some of the issues raised by some in the Toronto Black community. He
writes:

Educational separation is not the solution [to the achievement gap in the
public education system]. The changes need to be made within the existing
education systems where they can benefit not only Black students but all
Canadians. The solution to the dual problem of racism against Blacks and the
inclusion of Black perspectives, cultures, and history in education is the
construction and application of anti-racist and progressive Black
consciousness approaches. (p. 29)

Wright also questions the caliber of the students TAAS and AE are expected to produce and
whether White instructors should be employed to teach Afrocentric courses, given the
Afrocentric philosophy from which school draws its inspiration (Wright, 1994).

One key reason underlying Wright’s criticism of the school is that it could cultivate
among the student body an Afrocentric zealotry, leading to confrontations between students
and their White teachers, particularly if the views of the latter are perceived to deviate from
Afrocentric teachings. Wright cites an incident in the United States involving “Black
students leveling charges of racism against . . . White [teachers]” (Wright, 1994b, p. 14) as a
warning that TAAS may not be immune to race-related controversy. He also points out that
in Afrocentric schools “Black students [are encouraged] to question everything from the
course content to . . . [the] pedagogy . . . [and] . . . [the] role [of] the teacher [in the] course”
(Wright, 1994, p. 15)—a potential source of disruption. Some in the Afrocentrist camp, e.g.,
Asante, dismiss such fears, arguing that “given the proper orientation, mastery of facts, basic
pedagogical skills, and a willingness to learn from gifted students, any teacher ought to able
to teach any subject” (Asante as cited in Wright 1994b, p. 15); others view such an notion to
be untenable, citing Dei (1993), who argues that “Afrocentrism is an African-centred
discourse open to both Africans and non-Africans” (Dei as cited in Wright, 1994b, p. 15).

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 The debate over what form AE should take and who is qualified to teach Afrocentric
courses, Wright observes, provides ammunition to critics who argue that as a philosophy,
Afrocentricity is eclectic and emergent and needs to sort itself out. The idea that “only
Africans (broadly defined) can teach about and learn about Africa” (Wright, 1994a, p. 30)
reinforces “polarizing binarisms” (Giroux as cited in Wright, 2000, p. 127). According to
Wright (2000), Afrocentrists suffer from “blinkered skepticism” (p. 128), a leeriness of the
views of White academics and teachers. He contends that Afrocentric scholars, hardly, if at
all, “take up the discourses of other (racial) groups” (Wright, 2000, p. 129), exposing them to
charges of narrow-mindedness, which could be (mis)construed as racism.

Wright (2012; 2003) criticizes Afrocentrists for promoting a monolithic African

identity. In an essay, “Is this an African I see before me?: Black/African identity and the
politics of (Western, academic) knowledge” and in an editorial, “Editorial: Whose diaspora is
this anyway? Continental Africans trying on and troubling diasporic identity,” he challenges
its singularity. In his view, it is both a hybrid and acquired through cultural appropriation. It
is this hybridity and multiplicity, Wright agues, that problematizes the Afrocentrist notion of
a solid, unified, and unadulterated African identity. Referencing his Sierra Leonean identity
and a life lived mostly in the West (Canada) where he currently teaches, he posits that
identity evolves and is, shaped by life’s journeys. Calling oneself an African, without
acknowledging one’s multiple identities “conceals the ambiguity and messiness [of identity]”
(Wright, 2003, p. 6).

According to Wright (2003), an African identity is purely fictional, providing

claimants a “singular and fixed identity,” one that conceals the “torrent of hybridity and
multiplicity that drowns certainty and sweeps [the] ‘African’ up through the multiple,
shifting, hybrid, and contested (re)conceptualisations into a floating signifier” (p. 7). The act
of constructing an African identity creates tension: on the one hand, there are continental
Africans and émigrés, who perceive themselves as (true) Africans by birth, on the other, the
Pan-Africanist family that derives its African identity through slavery. The latter, Wright
argues, citing Muteshi, constructs its identity by the “imagining of Africa” as a homeland
(Muteshi as cited in Wright, 2003, p. 5), as a “resource, as place of origin, as history and

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roots” (Wright, 2003, p. 9). As a way of connecting with the homeland, these Africans
occupy themselves in acquiring African “artefacts and clothes . . . from the sidewalks of
Harlem” (Wright, 2003, p. 9). They romanticize Africa as “an ancestral home to which one
can return,” thus keeping alive the Afrocentric narrative of “diasporic Africans descend[ing]
from kings and queens of ancient African civilisations” (Wright, 2003, p. 9).

According Levine-Rasky (2014), White fear of Afrocentricity has everything to do

with race and the resurgence of a Black consciousness and aspirations to escape White
oppression by any means possible, including African-centred education. White fear, Levine-
Rasky argues, takes on a particular hue in the context of the controversy surrounding the
Toronto Africentric Alternative School (TAAS). It is the fear of Blackness, not as an
abstraction, but as a particularity, namely the spectre of an educated and politicized Black
subject, imagined to have suddenly gained insight into racism and acquired the political
power to oppose it. Thus there looms before Whites the prospect of African-Canadian
children and youth acquiring dangerous knowledge of their contributions to society and of
how those contributions have been denied by a European historiography. The White public
imagines a revolutionary Blackness, such as that so vividly evoked by Fanon, emancipated
from its oppressors. Writes Levine-Rasky:

It fears the possible outcome of an education sufficiently radical to produce a

self-determining, Afrocentric subjectivity. White fear is immanent in the
knowledge that who one is and what one has are not results of deserts or
natural merit. Conversely, others did not underachieve for reasons of their
lack of such qualities . . . Achievement and opportunity arise from systemic
and cultural inequities. White fear parallels the anticipated retribution for the
historical and ongoing forms of racism directed against racialized peoples.
(p. 214)

3.12. The Toronto Africentric Alternative School:

An Overview

The Toronto Africentric Alternative School (TAAS) is located in the North York
region of the Greater Toronto Area (GTA). The school was established against a backdrop of

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“poor educational achievement” on the part of African-Canadian students (James, 2011, p.
198). Other reasons cited for establishing the school include the high “dropout rate, . . .
truancy rate, . . . failure rate, [and] basic streaming rate” among Black students (Working
Group as cited in James, 2011, p. 198). Appointed by the Ontario provincial government to
investigate the educational needs of the province’s students and provide recommendations
aimed at “prepar[ing] [students] . . . for the challenges of the 21st century,” the Royal
Commission on Learning (RCOL as cited in James, 2011, p. 199) submitted a report that
included the following problem statement:

. . . They [we]re concerned about the future of young Blacks who, without a
secondary school diploma (let alone a college diploma or university degree),
face limited job prospects, social marginalization and personal defeat. [The
Commission also] argued forcefully that the educational system is failing
Black students, and that there is an educational crisis in [the Black]
community. (p. 199)

In addition, the RCOL warned that the Ontario education system needed “innovative
strategies” and “special programmes” to improve “the academic performance of Black
students” (as cited in James, 2011, p. 199). At a Town-Hall meeting in February 2005,
dubbed “Making the grade: Are we failing our Black youth?” (James, 2011, p. 199), the
panelists and audience members agreed that the public education system was not serving the
educational needs of Black students. At the meeting, a leading African-Canadian antiracist
scholar, George Dei, argued that “an alternative school for Black students . . . [was] the only
way to prevent them from being pushed out of the system” (as cited in James, 2011, p. 200).
Working in partnership with the Black community and stakeholders, TDSB acknowledged
that the achievement gap and high dropout rates among “students of African descent” were
serious concerns that needed to be addressed (Toronto District School Board). At the
forefront of the struggle for educational reform were African-Canadian mothers—the pillars
of Black activism. In 2008, the Board of Trustees accepted the report’s recommendations,
listed under the rubric “Improving Success for Black Students.” In September 2009, TAAS
officially opened its doors.

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3.13. The Afrocentric Curriculum:
An Overview

In contrast to the mainstream public school system curriculum, which is

preponderantly European-based, the TAAS curriculum is Afrocentric or African-centred. Its
Afrocentricity is derived from the seven principles of Nguzo Saba: Umoja, Kujichagulia,
Ujima, Ujamaa, Nia, Kuumba and Imani.

Umoja means unity: To strive and maintain unity in [the Black] family and
community. Kujichagulia means “self-determination: To define oneself; peak
for oneself and to create for oneself. Ujima means collective work and
responsibility. Ujamaa means cooperative economics: To cooperatively build
and maintain business. Nia means purpose: To develop community for
purpose; Kuumba means creativity: To do as much as we can to leave our
community more beautiful than when we inherited it. Imani means faith: To
believe in our parents, teachers, leaders, and ourselves. (Toronto District
School Board, n.d., p. 1)

The integration of Nguzo Saba into the TAAS curriculum is instructive in a number
ways: First, it helps Afrocentric students to build a sense of community as well as personal
independence. Second, it instills in them an unlikely combination of entrepreneurial skills
and spirituality. The latter teaches students to look beyond “Christian values and prayers”
(Dei, 1996b, p. 181) and interrogate the kind of ecclesiastical indoctrination that works to
internalize the view that only one race, the White race, is favoured by the Creator and that the
only means to salvation lies in adopting Christianity. In addition to core subjects, which are
reviewed and approved by TDSB, TAAS offers African-centred drama, experiential
pedagogy, and drumming and dancing (Africentric Alternative School, n.d.; Toronto District
School Board, n.d.). The students are also taught Swahili, French Creole and Twi. The
“Boys to Men” program, designed to facilitate the rite of passage to adulthood to full
membership in the community, is geared towards helping male students improve their
“interpersonal communication, teamwork and problem-solving” skills (Africentric
Alternative School, n.d.). The “Boys and Girls [program],” allows students to participate in a
“variety of recreational activities, games and group challenges” (Africentric Alternative
School, n.d.).

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 The TAAS “Boys to Men” program and the lack of any counterpart for female
students raises serious gender issues. The very title suggests that Black male students are
more prone to behavioural problems, e.g., truancy, and thus more likely to drop out, or be
pushed out, of school. The remedy lies in the form of “strong” Black male teachers capable
of guiding them into manhood. This gender-based program carries with it the implication that
Black female teachers contribute less to the development of students and that Black male
students are more important vis-à-vis their female counterparts, which bodes ill for their
future relations with women. There is also the perception, particularly among the Black male
student population, that Black male teachers are more capable than their female colleagues.
In denying girls a similar program, TAAS, it can be argued, is failing to address the needs of
students.

Cognizant of the difficulties some Black families face vis-à-vis their children’s
education, e.g., with respect to supervising and/or helping with homework, TAAS offers
parent workshops where basic pedagogic skills can be learned (Africentric Alternative
School, n.d.). Herein lies a concerted effort to address a fundamental obstacle to educating
Black children: the lack of support provided by parents, especially those with English as a
Second Language (ESL). In striking contrast to the indifference shown by the mainstream
schools, TAAS has demonstrated a willingness to support parents in their efforts to
participate in all facets of school life, something that is essential if students are to achieve
positive learning outcomes.

3.14. The Toronto Africentric Alternative School:

Staff and Governance

Established against the backdrop of an achievement gap in the public education

system and parental concerns, TAAS has lived up to its promise of creating a safe and
democratic learning environment where teachers, parents and stakeholders can work together
to ensure that students will succeed. TAAS teachers are employees of TDSB, hired based on
their commitment to enhance the learning experience of Black students and foster academic

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excellence (Africentric Alternative School, n.d.). TAAS is administered by a principal, vice-
principal, superintendent, and trustee, all employees of TDSB. A Parent Council Executive
(PCE) ensures that parents remain abreast of all school matters of relevance; it also advises
the school principal on all matters pertaining to the running of the school. Below are listed
key PCE functions:

1. . . . To provide essential updates on developments at the [T]AAS;

2. Share information with [the] Africentric education community about the
upcoming press conference to release critical data on 3 years of research
on the [T]AAS (2011-2014);
3. To seek vital parent [and] community input on challenges at the [T]AAS;
4. To seek vital AAS parent and community input on strategic planning for
the future of the [T]AAS to realize the original vision of achieving a
stand-alone-JK-grade 12 school, among other things.
(Africentric Alternative School, n.d.)

3.15. Conclusion

Although the theory of Afrocentricity entered the popular imagination following the
Civil Rights era, its origins lie in the ideas of Du Bois, Garvey and Nkrumah, Black leaders
who understood the African experience, forged in both the homeland and in the diaspora, and
who worked tirelessly to promote Black unity, freedom, and the will to uphold African
values. Following in the footsteps of these luminaries, Afrocentrists challenge White
supremacy and oppression. In the context of public education, Afrocentric scholars have
created a space for Black students in which to interrogate how knowledge is produced and
disseminated.

Proposing a new way of seeing and interpreting the world through the prism of
education, Afrocentrists have inserted into the broader public debate on education a Black
discourse, at the heart of which lie two propositions: Blacks exist and their history and ways
of knowing are equally important in the domain of education and for this reason, should be
respected as are Eurocentric knowledge systems. The latter has been rejected by mainstream
scholars who view Afrocentricity and its advocates as divisive and as obsessed with

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reenacting a history that has been buried. Now that the Toronto Africentric Alternative
School is up and running, educators, indeed the public at large, are beginning to ponder the
implications of an Afrocentric education. The following chapter describes the research
methodology used in this study.

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Chapter 4.

Research Methodology

In the previous chapter, I discussed the historiography of Afrocentrism, which would

inspire Afrocentric scholars to examine, through an Afrocentric lens, the social, political,
moral and cultural lives of Africans, and in particular educational reforms. Also discussed
were various arguments presented by both proponents and critics of Afrocentric theory, the
Toronto Africentric Alternative School and Afrocentric education. Lastly, I outlined the
Afrocentric curriculum and the management of the school.

In this chapter, I discuss the research paradigms upon which this enquiry is based,
along with their epistemic assumptions. I also discuss the research strategies and methods,
along with the approaches to data collection and analysis. In addition, the backgrounds of the
research participants are described. Lastly, I touch upon the dilemmas that confronted me
during the course of conducting research. My aim here is to provide readers with a
comprehensive understanding of how this study was conducted and the challenge
encountered.

4.1. Research Paradigm:

An Overview

As complexes of philosophical assumptions, paradigms play a critical role in

informing the research process. Akin to roadmaps, paradigms delineate the researcher’s
position on the subject under study. Bateson (1972) defines a paradigm as a set of “abstract
principles” [that guide research], . . . shap[ing] how the qualitative researcher sees the world
and acts in it” (as cited in Denzin & Lincoln, 2000, p. 19). For Guba (1990), a paradigm is a
“basic set of beliefs that guide action (as cited in Denzin & Lincoln, 2000, p. 19). According
to Richards (1980), it is simply “the way in which a people make sense of their surroundings;
make sense of life and the universe” (as cited in Dillard, 2006, p. 61). I lean more towards

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Richards’ definition on account of the emphasis placed on how people ascribe meaning to
their environments. As with all research paradigms, the one employed here is directed at
revealing and understanding how Black parents view their social world and how that world
shapes their lived experience. Three elements constitute a paradigm: ontology, which is
concerned with the nature or essence of being/reality; epistemology, which deals with the
grounds for and validity of knowledge; and axiology, which is concerned with the values the
researcher brings to the research project.

4.2. The Researcher’s Paradigm

This research is predicated on both an Afrocentric and a critical paradigm, and on the
grounds that (a) the oppressed are worthy of study; (b) their oppression can be explicated by
understanding their history and location on the power spectrum; and (c) their condition can
be ameliorated by developing a knowledge of their history, interrogating oppressive power
structures, fostering self-consciousness, and working to achieve agency—all essential steps
to realizing their full human potential (Kershaw, 1992).

The choice of both an Afrocentric and a critical paradigm is intended to tap into an
“epistemological diversity outside . . . [the] consensus model” (Lather, 2006, p. 36). These
paradigms offer both the rigor and perspective essential to conducting research on a people
that have been marginalized and subordinated and had their history relegated to the status of
a footnote in Western historiography. Stepping outside the dominant paradigms and adopting
both an Afrocentric and critical paradigm frees one from the diktats of a “resurgent
positivism and [its] . . . impositions . . . as the gold standard in research” (Lather, 2006, 35);
no longer need one be subject to the tyranny of an “imperial science . . . [and]
methodological fundamentali[sm]” (Lather, 2006, pp. 35-36). According to Mazama (2001),
“much of what passes for African-American studies is nothing but European studies of
Africa” (p. 395). To accept Western paradigms as, in Lather’s words, “the gold standard in
research” (Lather, 2006, p. 35) is to be complicit in the practice of “apprehend[ing] [the
African] reality through [the European] centre” (Mazama, 2001, p. 398).

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 I begin my discussion of the research paradigms informing this enquiry by
referencing Seidman’s critique of the universal validity of foundational paradigms, which is
particularly relevant here given the enormous gulf existing between Western and African
civilizations and their respective peoples. Writes Seidman (2005):

How can a knowing subject , who has particular interests and prejudices by
virtue of living in a specific society at a particular historical juncture and
occupying a specific social position defined by his or her class, gender, race,
sexual orientation, and ethnic and religious status, produce concepts,
explanations, and standards of validity that are universally valid? How can we
both assert that humans are constituted by their particular socio-historical
circumstances and also claim that they can escape their embeddedness by
creating nonlocal, universally valid concepts and standards? How can we
escape the suspicion that every move by culturally bound agents to generalize
their conceptual strategy is not simply an effort to impose particular, local
prejudices on others? (p. 269)

Thus, research aiming to investigate any matter pertaining to Africa or Africans in their
relation to dominant, i.e., colonial paradigms is to be viewed as highly problematic.

Regarding my ontological position, I hold reality to be relative. That “there are

multiple realities” (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000, p. 21), of which one is the African reality, I
have no doubt. I would also argue that given the unique history, culture and Weltanschauung
of Africans, the African reality can be understood only within the context of Africa’s
multiple worldviews that eschew the positivist benchmark of “rationality, [and] objectivity
(Asante, 1998, p. 179). From an Afrocentric ontological standpoint, the physical and the
supernatural worlds are inseparable; thus, humans are in no way independent actors devoid of
spiritual influence and/or lacking obligations. They are a part of the cosmology. Our
membership in the physical and spiritual worlds, therefore, carries with it a “social [and a
spiritual] responsibility” (Dei, 1996b, p. 180). As an Afrocentric researcher, I believe that
“we are all spirit, connected by the Creator’s energy of breath. [That] as spirit, we are
engage[d] in a human journey for as long as we have the energy of breath: When it is no
longer ours, the human journey ends” (Dillard, 2006, p. 68). One’s place and success in the
world depends not on personal attributes, e.g., talent, intelligence, physical strength, but on

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the collective, i.e., the African community, and the Supreme Being. By virtue of membership
in the community, one takes on the “social responsibility” (Dei, 1996b, p. 180) to conduct
oneself in ways that promote the collective wellbeing of all humans and abstain from
behaviours that could “destroy [any] one component of the web of cosmic elements [thereby]
destroy[ing] the entire universe—even the creator” (Schiele, 1994, p. 152).

An African ontology could, I argue, play a key role in educating Black students. First,
it would serve to broaden their intellectual horizons by virtue of viewing the world through
an African lens. Second, it would facilitate an understanding of the world in which they live
as well as an appreciation of the fact that there is more that binds than divides them, in
particular their connection as humans to one another and to the Supreme Being.
Incorporating spirituality into Afrocentric education would help Black students understand
and appreciate the connection between “spirit, . . . mind, . . . soul, and . . . body” (Dei, 2013,
p. 123). Spiritual practices, such as prayer, libations, drumming, singing and dancing, which
Afrocentric education promotes, would cultivate in them a “sense of morality and justice”
(Dei, 2013, p. 123). Incorporating an Afrocentric ontology into the research methodology,
which consists exclusively of one-on-one and group interviews, infuses the interviewer, in
this case me, with a sense of humility. From an Afrocentric ontological standpoint,
knowledge can be expressed in various ways, including African spirituality, all of which are
capable of articulating the African experience.

For epistemology, the central question has to do with the “the relationship between
the inquirer and the known [i.e., knowledge]” (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000, p. 19). I argue that
knowledge of an African reality can be derived through dialogue stripped of the kind of
“language [that] has historically served and continues to serve as a powerful tool in the
mental, spiritual, and intellectual colonization of African[s]” (Dillard, 2006, p.70). By
sharing their stories through dialogue, not only do the researcher and participants arrive at the
‘truth,’ however situated, they inspire and strengthen each other (Asante, 2003). If
knowledge is situated and embedded in meanings, which the African knowledge system and
culture are, then it is safe to assume that we can arrive at it by engaging in dialogue with
community members of standing “who[se] [views] we perceive as legitimate and powerful

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. . .” (Dillard, 2006, p. 63). Stripping African languages of their colonial legacy, the African
can articulate his or her views without fear if they are being judged illegitimate or unworthy
of attention on the basis of a European benchmark. Central to an Afrocentric epistemology
are the emotions and feelings of researchers, which are crucial to determining reality.

During the interviews, I used dialogue to help “free [the] consciousness [of
participants] from its dependence on hypostatized powers” (Habermas as cited in Talburt,
2004, p. 83). The participants were willing, even eager, to answer the interview questions to
the best of their ability. By establishing an atmosphere of collegiality and demonstrating
sensitivity to the participant’s situation, I succeeded in gaining their trust, which allowed for
the co-creation of knowledge. It helped that I was willing to share my own experiences. As
Dillard points out, “it seems almost inhumane to just sit and listen [to participants] without
sharing [your] own experiences in dealing with similar issues” (Dillard, 2006, p. 66). When
required, I inserted myself into the discussion, taking great care as always to privilege the
voices of the participants.

Ladson-Billings (2003) argues that a key role for Critical and Afrocentric research
lies in “challeng[ing] hegemonic symbols that keep injustice and inequality in place” (p.
421). According to Lincoln and Denzin (1994), critical “research or scholarship cannot be
considered complete if it fails to capture the perspectives and “misery” of oppressed people
vis-à-vis “dominant . . . interest[s]” (p. 581). As a proponent of social justice, I believe it is
possible to conduct this study in ways that encourage participants to take an activist stance
and to articulate their experience to the best of their ability, thus circumventing a problem
that plagues academic research: the tendency of ‘distant experts’ to appropriate the voices of
the subordinated and marginalized and stamp their imprimatur on their experiences and on
what they hold to be true (Reviere, 2001).

Turning interviews into a "transformative intellectual [project]" (Giroux as cited in

Guba & Lincoln, 1994, p. 110) and demonstrating to participants that they can control their
destiny, I have found emboldens them to interrogate historical and contemporary injustices
and propose community initiatives aimed at helping those members of the Black community

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who are disadvantaged. Assigning participants the role played by the "transformative
intellectual" (Giroux as cited in Guba & Lincoln, 1994, p. 115) may stir within them
sufficient passion to challenge dominant discourses on Black Canadians and their place in
Canada; this would be the first step to nurturing in participants a "critical empowerment"
(Kincheloe & McLaren, 1994, p. 139).

Like all researchers do, whether they acknowledge it or not, I bring to my work a set
of personal values. As a visible minority, I value diversity in the field of research, which
translates into foregrounding disparate views, voices and representations that would
otherwise remain out of sight and out of mind. This in turn can serve to heighten public
awareness of the lived-experience of the marginalized and oppressed, of their trials and
tribulations. Diversifying research can, I believe, help to mitigate White oppression, reduce
racial tensions, publicize the plight of the marginalized, and create a climate wherein non-
mainstream voices, experiences and histories are respected. I also value diversity in the area
of public education, believing it to be essential to realizing the full potential of all students,
and particularly the marginalized. Thus, for example, AE promotes knowledge of the Black
historical experience and cultural heritage, which in turn fosters in Black students self-
respect and a willingness to learn. Moreover, the experience-based knowledge AE provides
can be applied to understanding the root causes of oppression, the first step along the path
leading to liberation.

4.3. Qualitative Methodologies:

An Overview

Qualitative research are to be found in a number of research traditions, including, but

not limited to, ethnography, phenomenology, case studies, discourse analysis, and grounded
theory (Bradley 1993; Creswell, 2007; Glesne, 2006; Pollio, Henley & Thompson, 1997).
Denzin and Lincoln (2000) define qualitative research as:

a situated activity that locates the observer in the world. It consists of

interpretive, material practices that make the world visible. . . . They turn the

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 world into a series of representations, including field notes, conversations,
photographs, recordings, and memos to the self. At this level, qualitative
research involves interpretive, naturalistic approach to the world. This means
that qualitative researcher study things in their natural settings, attempting to
make sense of, or to interpret, phenomena in terms of the meanings people
bring to them. (p. 3)

Framed around the life world of people, qualitative research "allows the researcher
. . . to record accurately his/her own observations while uncovering the meaning their
subjects bring to their life experiences. This meaning relies on the subjective, verbal, and
written expressions of meaning given by the individuals studied as windows into the inner
lives of the persons" (Denzin & Lincoln, 2003, p. 30). According to Merriam (1995),
“qualitative research assumes that reality is constructed, multidimensional, and ever-
changing; there is no such thing as a single, immutable reality waiting to be observed or
measured. Thus, there are interpretations of reality; in a sense the researcher offers his or her
interpretation of someone else’s interpretation of reality” (p. 54). According to Denzin and
Lincoln, (2000), qualitative research allows the researcher to capture the views of the
research participants as opposed to turning them into an “object of [the] ethnograph[ic] gaze”
(p. 2).

A qualitative methodology was chosen for this study because it allows me to probe
the subject’s perceptions and sense of reality, thereby revealing what Black parents really
think about TAAS and AE and their children’s underachievement. This methodological
approach also allows for close researcher-participant interaction, thus fostering open and
honest dialogue. Through the interview process, I was able not only to record the
participants’ views on a range of subjects—TAAS, AE, the experience of Black students,
etc.—but also to observe them as they spoke. A qualitative research methodology provided
the interpretive protocols and techniques, e.g., rephrasing questions, required to “secure an
in-depth understanding” of Black parents’ views and perceptions, thus “add[ing] rigor,
breadth, complexity, richness, and depth” to the study (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000, p. 5).

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4.4. Critical Ethnography:
An Overview

This study employs two principal ethnographic methods: in-depth interviews and
document collection and analysis. Critical ethnography is an offshoot of traditional
ethnography. According to Anderson (1989), it was born out “of dissatisfaction with social
accounts of “structures” like class, patriarchy, and racism in which real human actors never
appear” and social opposition to “cultural accounts of human actors in which structural
constraints like class, patriarchy, and racism never appear” (p. 249). At the same time,
critical ethnographers were coming to view the silence embedded in traditional ethnography
as antithetical to the moral imperative on the part of the critical researcher to contribute to
building a just and equitable society. Thus, in failing to provide an in-depth interrogation of
behaviour and social structures, traditional ethnography fell short of challenging the status
quo. In contrast, critical ethnographic work, e.g., Willis’ (1977) much acclaimed Learning to
Labour: How working class kids get working class jobs, highlights the impact of social
structures, e.g., public schooling, the constraints they impose on the working poor, and the
need to interrogate in great depth the structures of oppression.

While the following discussion may convey the impression that critical ethnography
differs from its forebear in essential ways, both share the same goals, methods and
foundational assumptions. According to Anderson (1989), both seek knowledge, and an
understating of that knowledge, by drawing on the perceptions of the subject under study
whose account of reality is assumed to be constructed. Thus, the subject’s version of reality
is viewed as a personal construct of what he/she considers to be reality.

4.5. Critical Ethnographic Research:

Problematizing Power and Oppression

Conducting a study informed by the imperative of ‘speaking truth to power” requires

interrogating the structures of power and oppression and how they impact individuals and
communities. Critical ethnography is well-suited to this kind of project owing to its

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investigative orientation, analytical rigor and commitment to “overcoming social injustices”
(Madison, 2005, p. 512). It obliged me to take “on the ethical responsibility to address
processes of unfairness or injustice . . . [and to] challenge institutions, regimes of knowledge,
and social practices that limit choices, constrain meaning, and denigrate identities and
communities” (p. 5). Madison contends that the critical ethnographer must “produce
knowledge which guides and equips [society] to identify, name, question, and to act against
the unjust; consequently [to] unsettle another layer of complicity” (p. 6).

Extending Madison’s conception of critical ethnography, Simon and Dippo, (1986)

argue that “critical ethnographic work is not only “political” (p. 196), i.e., in that it
interrogates structures of power and oppression; it also has a pedagogical dimension: the
“assessment of . . . society as inequitably structured and dominated by a hegemonic culture
that suppresses a consideration and understanding of why things are the way they are and
what must be done for things to be otherwise” (p. 196). With a view to educating the public
the researcher must identify the social, political, economic and cultural constraints upon
communities, in this case the Black community, and propose ways and means to relieve
them—all based on research framed around the activist and political articulations of Black
students and parents (Simon & Dippo, 1986).

According to Loutzenheiser (2007), “speaking to [Black parents] is only one piece of

researching marginalized [communities]; listening to [them] requires an additional step of
acknowledging that they have something to say and are able to build theories about their
lives” (p. 112). The critical ethnographic approach to conducting research enabled the
participants to articulate their perceptions of TAAS and AE and what they see as the way
forward. Their views were crucial to raising social consciousness regarding Black education
and addressing public ignorance and misperceptions of TAAS and AE.

At this juncture, the question arises as to why phenomenology was not used as a
research method for this study. The answer is simple: like traditional ethnography, it
foreclosures critical commentary and/or analysis (Holstein & Gubrium, 1994), eliminating
the emancipatory fervor critical ethnography provides by, for example, allowing me to

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condemn subordination and marginalization, to rework the participants’ statements into a
“text of resistance” (Giroux as cited in Kincheloe & McLaren, 1994) and to lobby for the
implementation of radical policy initiatives that would undermine the status quo
(Carspecken, 1996). Like foundational paradigms, phenomenology and traditional
ethnography verge on the “atheoretical”, “neutral”, “ahistorical” and “apolitical” (Anderson,
1989, p. 249), and, as such, obstruct rather than promote meaningful change. It fails to
awaken passion or to stir and steer a collective commitment for change (Anderson, 1989); it
shies away from demarcating a clear line between oppressor and oppressed, and pulls back
from a frontal confrontation with social injustice.

4.6. Research Methods

4.6.1. Data Collection

In-depth interviews, focus groups, and document analysis were used to generate data.
In-depth interviews carry the risk that participants may express their views inaccurately or
imprecisely unless the interviewer were to interrogate the data. Two pilot interviews were
also conducted (Codjoe, 2006) to provide the feedback essential to modifying the individual
interview protocol (Appendix A). Thus, for example, in response to the feedback the term
“Afrocentric School" was substituted for “Africentric School," "ethnicity" for "ethno-
nationality.” Between July and November of 2013, 12 parents, three men and nine women,
were interviewed. Two formal interviews, i.e., one individual and one focus group interview
(see Appendices A and B), were conducted; the former requiring 45 minutes (average) to
complete, the latter 1 hour and 26 minutes. Prior to the first interview, the participants were
asked to choose a pseudonym.

The focus group met for the first time on 16 November 2013, in the Team Room of
the North York Library. Four participants, Abena, Mary, Kombozi and Ouzy, attended this
session. The reason for convening it was to allow the participants to exchange views and
build on and/or challenge those expressed by individual participants. Because the second

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focus group interview, held on 23 November 2013, was attended by only one participant, it
was cancelled. All the interviews were audiotaped with the participants’ consent, transcribed
and then emailed to the participants so that they might be reviewed, which eliminated the
need for follow-up interviews that would have conflicted with tight work schedules and
personal commitments. During the interviews, I inconspicuously took notes, expanding upon
them afterwards. This proved crucial to aiding my memory and preparing me mentally for
the next interview.

Over the course of a 5-month period, beginning in late January and extending to the
middle of May, I reviewed a total of 53 newspaper and magazine articles related to TAAS or
AE, appearing in two major newspapers, The National Post and The Toronto Star, and
Maclean’s Magazine. I also reviewed 21 articles published in Pride and Share, two of
Toronto’s most widely read African-Canadian newspapers. The articles were selected based
on the depth of their analysis and diversity of their views. For the most part, I relied on The
National Post, The Toronto Star and Maclean’s as their coverage was extensive, balanced
and cut across class, racial and gender lines, albeit with a few exceptions that were racist and
emotive. The data from the interviews and newspaper and magazine articles were
supplemented with documents obtained from TDBS and TAAS websites.

4.6.2. Participant Recruitment and Selection

What began in November 2012 as a study of Black students and parental perceptions
of TAAS and AE had to be changed after the Toronto District School Board (TDSB) rejected
my application requesting access to public documents. The Board cited the following reasons
for its decision: The study:

overlapped with an ongoing multi-year study already being conducted in

partnership with York University, [and] there have been several recent
requests for the participation of TAAS in external studies, and the Principal is
unable to support or facilitate all of them. (S. Erling, Chair, External
Research Review Committee, TDSB, personal communication, December 20,
2012)

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 Denied access to the school, i.e., to parents, students, and documentation, I had no
choice but to refocus the study. I recruited Black parents with or without children attending
the school. Even though the focus of the study had shifted, in-depth interviews and document
collection and analysis remained the principal methods for data collection. I submitted an
application to the Behavioural Research and Ethics Board (BREB), University of British
Columbia. The application was approved in April 2013, and that same month recruitment
began. Recruitment advertisements were posted at a community centre that was host to a
Black student-parents’ mentorship program, in shopping malls patronized by Black parents,
and in bus shelters and grocery stores (Appendix C).

In addition, posters describing the study were emailed to African-Canadian

community centres, professional groups, Black churches, teachers and community leaders,
and a community newspaper, seeking assistance in recruiting Black parents. Participants
who expressed interest were emailed an Initial Contact Letter (Appendix D) and a Subject
Consent Form (Appendix E). To facilitate the recruitment process, snowball sampling was
used to recruit Black parents with “direct knowledge relevant to the [study]” (Fossey,
Harvey, McDermott & Davidson, 2002, p. 726). 12 participants, three men and nine women,
agreed to participate in the study and were later interviewed. Although a gender balance
would have been preferred, the data generated was, nonetheless, rich and “gave sufficient
depth of information . . . [to] fully describ[e] the phenomenon [under examination]” (Fossey
et al., 2002, p. 726). The participants were given the choice of venues for the initial
interview: one interview took place in a participant’s home located in Northwest Toronto and
another in the downtown Toronto office.

The remaining interviews were held in a library and a coffee shop where a modicum
of privacy was to be had. Conducting the interviews in these mutually agreed upon settings
put the participants at ease, or so I assumed, and disposed them to respond to my questions at
greater length. To minimize the sense of uneasiness that so often attends interview sessions, I
arrived at the venue ahead of time to chat informally with the participants and address any
concerns they might have about the study; I also took this opportunity to walk them through
the Subject Consent Form and survey. The participants came from backgrounds that varied

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across nationality, demography, class, gender, education and political orientation. Their ages
ranged from 31 to 60.

Early on in the recruitment process, it became evident that some candidates distrusted
my intentions—and in my view justifiably so. One emailed this comment:

Hi, Patrick. Who are you, and why should I accept $20.00 [as an honorarium]
from you to further your own cause? Chances are you will get your PhD, and
no one will hear from you and your research again. It will be shelved as all
your predecessors. This again is all part of the exploitation, and a waste of
our valuable resources. Black education is essential to our survival.
Unfortunately, too many of us use our Black eyes to see the White point of
view, in the end. (Prospective participant, personal communication, August
19, 2013)

The above missive speaks to the frustration Black parents experience with research
studies that in their view give little or nothing back to the community and with researchers
bent on exploiting it. To give back to the community, I emailed the participants a copy of my
dissertation. I presented my findings to them on July 23, 2016, at Toronto’s Bloor-Gladstone
public library. The reasons for presenting my findings in this fashion are manifold: to ensure
transparency; allow the participants to question my interpretation of the data; obtain their
permission to include the data in future publications; restore the confidence of the Black
community, and particularly Black parents, in researchers perceived to be exploiting
community-related problems to further their careers, in academe, never to be heard from
again.

4.7. In-Depth/Semi-Structured Interview

For Gillham (2000), "the overpoweringly positive feature of . . . the [semi-structured]

interview is the richness and vividness of the material it turns up” (p. 10). This format
encouraged participants to share their views freely and allowed me to ask follow-up
questions, the aim being to capture more fully the participants’ views while keeping my
preconceptions at bay (Foley & Valenzuela, 2005). During focus group meetings, whenever

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conversation grew disjointed, the semi-structure interview format provided participants with
the opportunity to clarify or qualify “vague assertions” and interrogate each other’s views,
occasionally, prompting more “detailed elicitations” than had occurred during the course of
individual interviews (Morgan, 1996, p. 139). Despite the occasional digression, the focus
group members were able to engage in an open and honest exchange of views. In total, the
study generated 13.6 hours of audio-recorded interviews and 187 pages of single-spaced
transcripts, in addition to 132 pages of newspaper articles not including documents obtained
from the Toronto District School Boards and the Afrocentric School websites, of all which
were analyzed.

The participants have much in common, particularly their self-identity as African-

Canadians with ties to Africa that are, if nothing else, historical (Table 4.1). All, moreover,
are parents with a vested interest in the education of their children and African-Canadian
students, and as such harbour decided views about the Toronto public school system, TAAS
and AE, and the benefits, or lack thereof, of all three for African-Canadian students. Some of
their children attended TAAS, while others did not. While they come from different
backgrounds, all view themselves as persons of African descent. Moreover, all share the
same concern: the underperformance of Black students in the public school system.

While all the participants self-identify as Africans, how they perceive their African
identity is informed by their respective worldviews. Those participants—Abena, Amma,
Goddess and Titina Silla—who use the term “Afrikan” to indicate their ethno-nationality,
tend to take a hyper-critical view of Canadian society, and particularly of the public school
system; they also dismiss Eurocentric and colonial narratives on Africa as both racist and
uniformed. Regarding her African-Caribbean identity and heritage, Ananse is both proud and
reticent, owing, I suspect, to a reluctance to be pigeonholed. A Canadian by birth, Jennifer
self-identifies as Black. Canadian born and of Jamaican heritage, Kombozi describes himself
as African and Black, whereas Mary, Ouzy and Shaka identify their nationality by
referencing their country of origin, respectively, Trinidad, Mali and Jamaica, as opposed to
Canada. Though born in Canada, Rolonda describes herself as Canadian-Jamaican, a
hyphenated identity she claims signifies a deep affinity for the cultural heritage of her

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forebears. In contrast, Zindzi, who calls herself a Canadian-Ghanaian, feels at home in
Canada and is more circumspect about privileging one identity over the other.

Table 4.1. Profiles of Participants

Name of Ethno- Child(ren)
Gender Education Occupation
participants nationality at TAAS
Abena St. Lucian- Female Secondary Project Manager 0
Afrikan
Amma Canadian Female Some university Creative artist- 0
Afrikan educator
Ananse N/A Female University (BA) Food justice 0
manager
Goddess Afrikan Female University (MA) Educator 1
Jennifer Black Female University Teacher-curriculum 1
consultant
Kombozi African (Black) Male University Mortgage broker 1
Mary Trinidadian Female Post-secondary- Social Worker 0
University
Ouzy Mali Male MBA Senior manager– 0
banker
Rolonda Jamaican- Female College Social services 0
Canadian worker
Shaka Jamaican Male College Office manager 0
Titina Silla Afrikan Female MA Lawyer-student 2
Zindzi Ghanaian/AfricanFemale BA Nurse 1

The discrepancies noted suggest that national identity is something that is fluid and
that can be contested. While Zindzi and Mary, albeit to a lesser degree, subscribe to
multiculturalism, Canada’s unofficial state religion/ ideology, for those participants who self-
identify as “Afrikans,” national identity signifies their individuality as well as their politics,
which are directed at creating an African identity with which to resist White oppression. For
them, such an identity stirs the emotions, providing a counterweight to the racism and

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injustice they see permeating Canadian society at all levels and in all spheres, and in
particular public education.

4.8. The Participants

4.8.1. Abena (Project Manager)

The interview, held on 22 August 2013, took place in the program room of a public
library located in downtown Toronto. Adjacent to this room is the children’s section of the
library, which can be viewed through large plate-glass windows. Although the interview was
scheduled for 11:00 a.m., I arrived at 9:52 a.m. Abena, who has no children currently
enrolled at TAAS, arrived at the appointed time, sporting a green batik dress, sandals, and
sunglasses. Her views on TAAS and AE were entirely positive: both have made a significant
difference in the day-to-day lives of Black students by connecting them to their African
heritage and Pan-African family and are responsible for improving academic performance as
evinced by the above-average scores obtained by TAAS students on provincial exams; AE is
a corrective to a neocolonial education system because it presents positive images of
Africans and teaches students about the achievements of African Empires and Kingdoms; AE
offers Black students the courage to challenge racism. By contrast, Eurocentric education
does not help Black students build a positive self-image. When it does it focus on African
history, it employs racist typecasts. Throughout the interview, Abena was thoughtful and
self-possessed and appeared comfortable with the interview questions; she maintained good
eye contact and often smiled. And though none of her children are currently enrolled in
TAAS, she was generous with her time; indeed, following the interview she passed a full 30
minutes sharing her views on life in general.

4.8.2. Amma (Creative Artist–Educator)

The interview, held on 13th August 2013, took place at the respondent’s home, a
townhouse located in North-West Toronto. Though a passionate supporter of TAAS and AE,

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Amma is also a constructive critic. Though a passionate supporter and constructive critic of
both TAAS and AE, Amma has no children currently enrolled in the school. Her knowledge
of TAAS, AE, and Afrocentricity and their place in the struggle of the Pan-African family is
remarkable. While responding to questions, she would often interject comments and stories
pertaining to the Black experience in Canada. Amma views TAAS as the key to liberating
Black students and AE as crucial to restoring to Black communities a sense of communalism
and group solidarity, along with an understanding and appreciation for Black history,
esthetics and art—the carriers of Black values. She rejects both the public perception of
TAAS as a segregated school and a Eurocentric neoliberal education system based on White
supremacist values—a system that may prepare students for entry into the workforce but at
the cost of impairing their moral, intellectual, and spiritual development. Amma believes
that incorporating Black history into the curriculum will help immunize Black students
against racism by providing a deeper understanding of both who they are and the
contributions Black people have made to Canada and the rest of the world. Despite her
unalloyed support for TAAS and AE, she is aware, nonetheless, of the challenges awaiting
graduates— in particular, the perception that all are angry young men and women unable or
unwilling to accept the status quo or adopt mainstream perspectives.

4.8.3. Ananse (Food Justice Manager)

The interview, held on 5 September 2013, took place in a public library located in
midtown Toronto, a middle-class neigbourhood where a small homeless population resides.
The interview was held in the library’s program room, which is spacious and well-lit and
features large glass-paned doors and windows. The noise level was minimal, and there was
no human traffic. Following the exchange of pleasantries, Ananse, who has no children
currently attending TAAS, scrutinized and signed the consent form. She assured me she was
comfortable with audiotaping the interview, and the process started. As one would expect of
an Afrocentric educator, Ananse viewed AE as critically important to educating African-
Canadian students, even though she remained coy when asked thrice to voice an opinion
regarding TAAS. She also believes AE has played a crucial role in raising awareness of the

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Pan-African family, notwithstanding its commodification and the misconceptions that have
arisen, resulting from the various interpretations to which it has been subject. AE has,
according to Ananse, contributed significantly to restoring a sense of pride in Africa and in
an African heritage and identity, particularly in the younger generations, many of whose
members possess only a middling understanding of who they are. It is these Black Canadians,
more than any other, that need AE to ground them in an African identity and overcome the
barriers extant in the classroom and elsewhere. For her, AE is also crucial to combatting the
cult of an irresponsible individualism to which so many African-Canadian students have
succumbed, and to cultivating in its place a sense of how the individual is tied to the destiny
of the collective. Equally important, AE instills in Black students a pride in who they are, a
sine qua non for presenting themselves in ways that are worthy of emulation and that reflect
positively on the African-Canadian community. Ananse also contends that the "it takes a
village to raise a child" model of education, upon which AE is predicated, brings to the
classroom a humanistic element.

4.8.4. Goddess (Educator)

The interview, held on 5 September 2013, was conducted in a North York coffee
shop. An African and a mother, Goddess, who has a 9-year-old son currently attending
TAAS, is active within Toronto’s African-Canadian community and TAAS as well as the
school. The most striking feature of her attire was an African headscarf of brilliant colours.
Goddess is a strong proponent of TAAS, where her son is enrolled. In her view, AE plays a
crucial role in educating Black children and in preparing them in other ways to live useful
and productive lives. In addition to instilling self-confidence and providing an environment
conducive to excelling academically, TAAS and AE provide Black students with a sense of
solidarity and an appreciation of their African heritage, while impressing upon them the need
to give something back to the community. Goddess’ views on society in general and injustice
in particular are highly politicized; moreover, she spoke passionately regarding the inequities
in the public school system and the challenges confronting Toronto’s Black youth.

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4.8.5. Jennifer (Teacher–Curriculum Consultant)

The interview, held on 6 August 2013, took place at a public library located in
Toronto's West-End. Jennifer, an educator, historian, author, and independent curriculum
consultant who has published books on African-Canadian history and conducted public
workshops on the subject, spoke in support of TAAS and AE. Jennifer views TAAS, where
her daughter is currently enrolled, as instrumental in addressing the harm colonial education
has inflicted on African-Canadian students. For her, AE is both liberating and empowering
in that it fosters self-awareness and confidence in Black students by, among other things,
revealing who they are and what their place is in history—a history often taken out of context
and reframed from the standpoint of the colonizer. Jennifer’s views on TAAS and AE are
informed by her heritage and personal experience as a member of a racialized minority as
well as her interaction with African-Canadian students.

4.8.6. Kombozi (Mortgage Broker)

The interview, held on 8 August 2013, took place at an up-scale coffee shop/eatery,
replete with wooden mocha floor, leather seats, chic lighting, and soft music droning in the
background. The relatively quiet ambiance was punctuated by the occasional whir of a
blending machine. Kombozi is a devoted supporter of TAAS and AE. This support is born of
an in-depth and firsthand knowledge of what it means to be a Black student in a White-
dominated public education system. He spoke passionately and at length about how race
mediates the lives of Black students and the role of social stereotypes in fostering student
disaffection—something that often leads to high dropout rates and even incarceration.
Kombozi, whose son was about to enter Grade 1 at TAAS, views AE as a lifeline for Black
students who would otherwise likely drop out of school and lead aimless lives. Kombozi
believes Black parents must serve as role models for their children—a belief he lives by, and
to which I can attest, having witnessed him, his partner, and his son participating in a Black
student-parent mentorship program. Kombozi’s views are highly politicized, his analysis of
social justice issues rigorous.

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4.8.7. Mary (Social Worker)

The interview, held on 31 July 2013, took place in an office of a public library located
in Toronto's West-End. The interview room was furnished with a table and two chairs.
Across from it was the library’s main reading area where young children occupied
themselves with video games. Adjacent them, a group of preschoolers were seated on the
floor listening as a librarian read aloud from a children’s book. Mary, who has no children
currently attending TAAS, arrived 15 minutes late due to heavy traffic and the difficulty of
finding the venue. Prior the interview, we exchanged greetings and chatted briefly. A
Canadian of Trinidadian descent, Mary is a firm supporter of TAAS and AE. She sees
TAAS as doing what the mainstream public school has failed to do, that is, provide Black
students with an African-centred perspective. Mary believes that TAAS and AE offer Black
parents who are dissatisfied with the status quo an alternative, namely a school that meets
their educational goals—something to which every child and parent has a right. Yet, she still
supports ME and has serious doubts as to whether race should play so important a role in
educating children. She contends the mainstream public schools and TDSB must do more,
particularly with regard to reforming the curriculum with a view to opening up space for
alternative knowledge systems and histories. Mary believes that TAAS’ popularity among
students and parents is predicated upon its success in instilling hope and courage in Black
students and an acceptance of their African heritage. And while fearing TAAS graduates are
at risk of being stigmatized, she is convinced such a fate pales in comparison to the harm
inflicted upon Black students by the status quo.

4.8.8. Ouzy (Senior Manager–Banker)

The interview, held on 27 September 2013, took place in a conference room of a

financial institution located in downtown Toronto. A banker by profession, Ouzy, who has no
children currently attending TAAS, supports neither the school nor AE; indeed, he views the
former to be unnecessary. For him, the responsibility for Black student underperformance
lies principally with the Black family, specifically absentee fathers and a Black culture that
rewards laziness. While acknowledging the mainstream public school system and

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Eurocentric education to be partly at fault, he believes that Black families have failed Black
children. Although Ouzy admits to having limited knowledge of TAAS and AE, he contends
that the school cannot possibly prepare students to succeed in a labour market where success
depends on specialized knowledge and skill sets rather than awareness of one’s heritage.
And while TAAS may boost student confidence, it cannot address the problem of student
disaffection or gang membership. He dismisses TAAS as a segregated school that should be
ineligible for government funding. In his view TAAS is doing what Black parents should be
doing at home. Nor does he believe TAAS and AE provide an objective view of African
history; African-Canadians have a habit of romanticizing the continent’s history, seldom, if
ever, acknowledging the fact that Africa is the cause of its problems, all of which are man-
made. Ouzy contends that TAAS is no place to educate Black students, especially if the goal
is to produce skilled workers, professionals and community leaders. Ouzy holds strong views
about the Black community, and particularly its youth. He believes that, however imperfect
the education system, the problem lies not with its imperfections but with a culture that
disposes Blacks to criticize the system rather than take advantage of it.

4.8.9. Rolonda (Social Services Worker)

The interview, held on 27 August 2013, took place in a Toronto West-End coffee
shop. An unequivocal an ardent supporter of TAAS and AE, Rolonda, who has no children
currently enrolled in the school, believes the former to be long overdue. Her support for
TAAS and AE is informed by her personal experience as a student in the public school
system. For her, the TAAS curriculum stands as a corrective to the habitual
misrepresentations of the Black contribution to civilization. AE is crucial, she believes, to
rolling back the mental slavery that continues to oppress Black Canadians, revealing itself in
the habit of rejecting or belittling oneself and accepting as natural the racist projections that
are a staple feature of school curricula and corporate media. AE teaches Black students to
stand up for themselves. In highlighting Africa’s humanity, moreover, it provides Black
students with the knowledge, awareness and strength to resist racial stereotypes.

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Incorporating race in education as TAAS has done, is one way, Rolonda believes, to situate
Africa as one of civilization’s great architects.

4.8.10. Shaka (Office Manager)

The interview, held on 20 August 2013, took place in a coffee shop located in
midtown Toronto. Shaka, who has no children currently attending TAAS, appeared on the
scene resplendent in African batik garb. Owing to the large, vociferous crowd milling about
the coffee shop, we relocated to a nearby pizzeria that was relatively quiet. Well-known as an
activist in the Black community, Shaka is a strong supporter of both TAAS and AE, which,
he believes, provide a space wherein students can learn about the Pan-African family and
Africa's contribution to civilization. He dismisses the claim that AE is a substitute for a
Eurocentric education. Rather, in his view its principal objectives lie in correcting
misrepresentations regarding both the place of Africa in the domain of knowledge production
and the potential and abilities of its people, and in drawing attention to the implications of
European colonial atrocities for modern-day Africa and the African Diaspora. By predicating
its pedagogy on the proposition that ‘it takes a village to raise a child,” TAAS, Shaka
believes, has succeeded in developing a system of learning wherein the success of Black
children is regarded as a collective investment. He further believes that ultimately TAAS’
survival depends on securing the goodwill of the public—something that should be made a
top priority. The knowledge and passion Shaka brings to the defense of Africa is remarkable.
His responses to questions focused mainly on Black Canada often referenced colonial and
postcolonial African struggles and how they tie in to the current plight of Black Canadians
and the Pan-African family. Shaka believes that embedding Africa in the consciousness of
every Black person is crucial to reclaiming its greatness.

4.8.11. Titina Silla (Lawyer–Student)

The interview, held on 5 September 2013, took place in a North York coffee shop. A
tall Black cheerful woman exuding friendliness, Titina Silla traces her activism to her
family’s involvement in Africa's anti-colonial movement. As a strong supporter of TAAS and

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AE, and mother of two, all of whom attended the school until June 2014, she dismisses the
public perception that either is intended to rival Eurocentric education. Titina Silla believes
the core aim of AE lies in reclaiming Africa's collective identity and its rightful place in
history while providing Black students with revolutionary knowledge systems capable of
contesting the colonial epistemic construction of Africa. Thus, AE is all about incorporating
an alternative knowledge system, a learning and pedagogic approach both to raising
awareness on the part of Black students regarding their collective identity and to helping
them resist the ongoing war being waged on the Black mind, the purpose of which is to
naturalize Black subordination and marginalization. Titina Silla believes that TAAS provides
Black students with a safe space in which to nurture African-oriented ideas. Titina Silla’s
worldview is highly politicized, though tempered by a profound sense of humility.
Moreover, prior to responding to each question, she paused to think before answering,
resulting in responses that were rich and exhaustive. She also proved to be highly
knowledgeable about all facets of Afrocentricity and virtually anything related to it.

4.8.12. Zindzi (Nurse)

The interview, held on 26 August 2013, took place at a university where Zindzi was
enrolled. She arrived at the appointed time. Her mood was upbeat and she was well-dressed
for the occasion, wearing Black pants, a tank-top and trendy leather jacket. Using her
contacts at the school, Zindzi had secured a private room for the interview, which though
small proved to be quiet and cozy—ideal for an interview. Zindzi, whose son is enrolled in
TAAS, supports the school, albeit with reservations. While recognizing its contribution to
educating Black students, particularly with regard to their heritage, she subscribes to the
notion that curriculum reform throughout the public school system represents a better
alternative. And while she believes that Black students should learn about their history and
heritage, she is unsure as how TAAS can avoid being perceived by the public as a race-based
school. She also worries that in giving race such prominence, TAAS might be inadvertently
fostering racism. Zindzi recommends TAAS look beyond race and incorporate educational

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models where the emphasis is on acquiring the knowledge and skill sets required to secure
employment in those areas of the economy currently dominated by Whites.

4.9. Researcher’s Assessment of Interviews and

His Experience with Participants

Overall, the interviews proved to be positive experiences. All the participants were
prepared to be interviewed, and at no time did I feel awkward or sense any awkwardness on
the part of the participants. For the most part, the latter were generous with their time. Some
stayed on after the interview to discuss general issues at length and/or clarify their views. It
was readily apparent they were acutely aware of the problems facing Black youth; they were
also prepared to participate in discussion groups or programs aimed at addressing the
challenges confronting Black students.

I was also humbled by the participants’ generosity. Some enquired whether additional
participants were required and expressed a readiness to help if this were the case. I interpret
this overture as a sign that Black parents are, notwithstanding the public perception to the
contrary, genuinely interested in the education of their children and wish to have their voices
heard. What the participants really wanted, in my view, were new policies directed at
changing the status quo by, among other things, creating in schools a student-and-parent-
friendly atmosphere, partly in recognition of the role Black parents play in educating their
children. The informal, post-interview discussions helped establish a rapport with the
participants that facilitated an understanding of their views on my part.

4.10. Data Analysis and Interpretation

Having no prescribed standard with which to analyze data, ethnographic researchers

must rely, for the most, on “analytical procedures” (Fossey et al., 2002, p. 728; see also
Anfara, Brown, & Mangione, 2002; Merriam, 1995) to convert data into coherent texts
capable of providing an accurate account of the phenomenon under study. Data analysis

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began following the first interview and continued until all the fieldwork had been completed.
Possessing extensive background knowledge of the subject matter allowed some of the
answers to the research questions to be anticipated, which did affect the data analysis, albeit
minimally. Following each interview, field notes were taken for the purpose of recording my
experience, my views regarding the interviews, and my impressions of the participant, i.e., of
his/her personality and views. Themes believed to be relevant to the study were recorded.
Memos describing difficulties and challenges encountered in the field, along with ways and
means of resolving or circumventing them, were also recorded.

The interviews were manually transcribed. While transcribing 12 interviews by hand

proved time consuming and overwhelming, it has the advantage of bringing the researcher
closer to the data, something not possible with software, which “does not, and cannot,
analyze qualitative data for the researcher” (Fossey et al., 2002, p. 729). The data was
analyzed by repeatedly reviewing what the participants said, noting their tone of voice and
taking into account context (Barbour, 2008; Bradley, 1993; Creswell, 2007; Grbich, 2007;
LeCompte & Schensul, 2010; Weis & Fine, 2000). Listening to the tapes and reading the
transcripts repeatedly made it possible to reduce the amount of data to a manageable size,
i.e., for in-depth analysis, by eliminating whatever was superfluous, e.g., redundant
descriptors and digressions. This process was undertaken with great care so as not to alter in
any substantive way the import of what the participants said. Coding was used to identify
common patterns, themes, similarities and dissimilarities and to select quotes and salient
themes for comparative and thematic analysis (Anfara et al., 2002; Barbour, 2008; Basit,
2003; Creswell, 2007; LeCompte & Schensul, 2010; O’Reilly, 2009; Richards & Richards,
1994; Sipe & Ghiso, 2004; Weis & Fine, 2000). During the initial stage of the analysis, codes
were developed which were subsequently sorted, organized and grouped into “meaningful
unit[s]” (Bradley, 1993, p. 445). As a result of sorting and organizing the codes, I was able to
develop broad themes. I then compared these emerging themes with a view to lending
meaning and depth to the participants’ perceptions of TAAS and AE (Bradley, 1993).

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4.11. Research Trustworthiness, Validity and Reliability

While the terms ‘validity’ and ‘reliability,’ which are most often associated with the
discovery of ‘truth’, have their origins in positivism, they are nonetheless useful in signifying
the credibility of research, and particularly that of “[in-depth] interpretations of findings”
(Anfara et al., 2002, p. 33). They are routinely used by qualitative researchers to fend off
accusations that their work amounts to nothing more than “story telling” (Anderson, 1989, p.
252).

As a critical theorist, I draw on what in qualitative research is understood to be the

truth. The latter, indeed one’s notion of what constitutes reality, is shaped by one’s subjective
interpretation of his/her lived experience, a view that is at variance with the positivist notion
of truth as absolute and unchanging. By engaging the participants in discussing their stories,
however situated, I created a space where, together, they and I arrived at the truth as both
they and I saw it. Treating their stories as credible, and humanizing their experiences outside
the constraints of positivist prescriptions, I succeeded in capturing their perceptions of TAAS
and AE (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000; Dillard, 2006).

According to Walcott (1990), finding certainty in the area of qualitative research is

problematic. The principal goal of the qualitative researcher is to “understand [the] social
world [he or she] is . . . constructing” (Walcott as cited Talburt, 2004, p. 80). Walcott
presupposes that human phenomena cannot be understood on the basis of “a predetermined
level of verifiable facts (as cited in Talburt, 2004, p. 80), a view shared by Merriam (1995),
who asserts that “[in conducting research,] qualitative researchers are not seeking to establish
“laws” with respect to which reliability of observations and measurements is essential; rather,
[they] seek to understand the world from the perspectives of those in it” (p. 56). The
trustworthiness of the research was addressed by triangulating the data, a process that
involves cross-verifying and comparing interviews and using newspaper articles to “identify
corroborating and dissenting accounts” (Fossey et al., 2002, p. 728). This method helped to
minimize the bias inherent in using a single data source (Anfara et al., 2002; Fossey et al.,
2002; Talburt, 2004).

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 Transcripts were edited to provide greater clarity and precision and copies emailed to
the participants for “clarification, explanation or extension of . . . ideas” (Talburt, 2004, p.
88) prior to analyzing and interpreting the data, the rationale being that the “respondents
were in a better position to interpret the data and correct any oversights, misinterpretations or
misrepresentations (Lincoln & Guba as cited in Talburt, 2004, p. 87). Member check was
utilized in the sense that all participants were invited to provide input on the accuracy of
transcripts. Ten of the 12 participants took up the opportunity and edited the transcripts and
returned them via email. It does not follow from this approach that my authorial authority
was in any way compromised or that “the knowledge and expertise of participants [was
privileged] over [my] ability to analyze and interpret [the data]” (Hoskin & Stoltz, 2005, p.
97); rather, it was more a case of working in partnership with a view to ensuring that the
participants’ authentic voices were heard (Talburt, 2004). While the data was being collected,
the participants were able to contact me at any time. One participant took the opportunity to
invite me to attend a workshop, entitled “Parent Forum and Workshop: Building Parent Unity
to Empower our School and Community.”

Thick description was used to provide an extensive account of my experience

(Brantlinger, Jimenez, Klingner & Pugach, 2005). Multiple statements, replete with
dissenting views, were obtained from the participants, the purpose being to “reflect their
reality” (Talburt, 2004, p. 95). Embedded in these statements were their “views, experiences,
and emotions” (Talburt, 2004, p. 95). Descriptors deemed offensive, e.g., those that
stereotype Black women, and thus likely to hinder fruitful discussion by shifting the focus
away from the principal objective of the study were deleted. Below is one of the few
generalizations made regarding the question of Black parental responsibility:

Ouzy (Senior manager–banker): I am a Black man, and I am a father. If my wife [and I]

do not get along, I am not going to abandon my kids . . . [to] join gangs. Bad things
start with Black parents like myself. . . . [Absentee-fathers] are responsible for more
than half of our problems. . . . If you look at the shootings happening in Toronto, 99%
of the time, it is the woman who comes on TV to cry. Where are the fathers? . . . Let’s
start with [taking responsibility for our actions] instead of creating an Afrocentric
School. [Now], let’s talk about Black moms, wear condoms . . . Why . . . bring
somebody [into the world] when [you] need help [yourself]? . . . Don’t start having
kids when you know you cannot afford [them] . . . This is what I mean [by] we need

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 to be accountable for our own actions before blaming the system. We are our own
problem; we create these problems to start with.

4.12. The Emic/Etic Split

The emic/etic split poses a challenge in research. Proponents of the former position
contend that transformative, people-centered, and “responsive” research is only possible
provided the researchers are “cultural insiders” (Bishop, 2005, p. 111). This view stems from
the belief that only the researcher who is at one with the subject by virtue of his/her race,
ethnicity, gender, sex, class, etc., can have “easy access, the ability to ask meaningful
questions and read non-verbal cues and most importantly be able to project a more truthful
understanding of the culture under study” (Merriam et al., as cited in Bishop, 2005, p. 111).
Conversely, notwithstanding their qualifications, training, and interest, outsiders, who
necessarily lack all or most of these attributes, face insurmountable obstacles to conducting
research in cultural settings outside their race and culture. As a counterpoint to this view,
Tillman (2002) asserts that a researcher’s eligibility to conduct studies should not be judged
primarily on the grounds of race but rather on “whether the researcher has the cultural
knowledge to accurately interpret and validate the experiences of the [subjects] within the
context of the phenomenon under study” (as cited in Bishop, 2005, p. 113).

Taking into account the ethnographic maxim that ethnographers “make the strange
familiar and the familiar strange” I need to assert that even though my race provided me with
situated knowledge and the knack for asking probative research questions, it also limited my
ability to problematize the familiar (Banks, 1998; Brayboy & Deyhle, 2000; Glesne, 2006;
Loutzenheiser, 2007; Kaomea, 2003).

As a privileged graduate student, I live a life far removed from the daily experiences
of the research participants who are mostly members of the working class and reside in
working-class communities. From my privileged location, I can only claim to understand
what Black parents are willing and able to reveal regarding TAAS and AE. To claim,
moreover, that being educated, I am better situated to speak for the participants would be

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false as well as presumptuous. I can only speak on the basis of what they tell me, always
cognizant of the fact that despite my affinity for the Black community and our common
struggle—a struggle of which I am less a part given my social location—I will always remain
an outsider within (Banks, 1998; Lawless, 1992; Loutzenheiser, 2007; McCorkel & Myers,
2003).

Regarding this point, Alcoff (1991) argues that a researcher’s race, ethnicity, gender,
class, or culture do not confer on him/her the authority to speak for the research participants
or for the population they presumably represent; nor does the researcher's race eliminate
barriers in the field. My personal experience attests to the existence of such barriers; despite
the commonality of race, I sometimes found myself kept at arms-length by the Black parents
of TAAS students. I can only assume they were skeptical, and justifiably so, about the aims
of the study, perceiving it to be just another self-serving exercise on the part of a student
desperate to compete a doctorate degree and largely indifferent, if not oblivious, to its
negative implications, such as tarnishing the image of a school which the Black community
had fought so long and hard to establish and which is viewed as a corrective to Black
students’ underachievement in the mainstream public school system. While in the field, I was
made very much aware by parents who chose to spurn my invitation to participate in the
study that race was not a free pass for conducting research in their community. Rather than
viewing the insider-outsider duality as an obstacle, however, I used it to my advantage: I
entered the field both as an ‘insider,’ possessing knowledge of the phenomenon under study,
and as an ‘outsider’ with an outsider’s perspective, which alone rendered the “familiar . . .
strange” (Kaomea, 2003, p. 4).

According to Hammersley and Atkinson, a good ethnographer “needs to be

intellectually poised between familiarity and strangeness” (as cited in Brayboy & Deyhle,
2000, p. 165). While I conducted this study in a community of which I am a part and could
lay claim to being better situated to understand the issues at stake, I cannot claim
‘objectivity’ on the basis of race. To do so could very well hamper my efforts to understand
these issues, distort my conversations with participants, and pose ethical problems, e.g.,
reporting findings not supported by the data (Brayboy & Deyhle, 2000; Banks, 1998).

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 After acknowledging my biases and subjecting them to reflexive and recursive
analysis, I came to realize that my research methodology and questions were value-laden,
that my knowledge of the subject under study was ‘coloured’ by my history, ideology and
idiosyncrasies as well as by my relation to the Toronto Black community (Simon & Dippo,
1986). I also became aware that using Afrocentric Theory as an interpretive lens precluded
other theoretical frameworks, e.g., Critical Race Theory and Conflict Theory, that are equally
capable of elucidating the power structures that reproduce oppression in all of its myriad
forms.

To ensure that I understood the participants’ responses to the interview questions, I

conducted a member check. I emailed them the interview transcripts with minor edits and
requested that they either affirm or modify those statements that did not reflect their views.
(Lawless,1992). I also emailed them the study’s preliminary findings. In conferring upon
them ownership of the data in the best traditions of a “reciprocal ethnography” (Lawless,
1992, p. 311), an iterative dialogue was established between the participant and researcher.
Subjecting my interpretations to reinterpretation contributed to reducing the influence my
biases would likely have on the findings. What I hope has emerged from this study, is an
objective and balanced view of parental perception of TAAS and AE. It should be admitted,
however, that despite all these efforts, my values have, as is the case with all research,
informed this study.

4.13. Researcher Reflexivity

According to Anderson, “the most pressing issue facing critical ethnographers today
with respect to the validity or trustworthiness of their accounts is . . . reflexivity, that is, self-
reflective processes that keep their critical framework from becoming a container into which
the data is poured” (Anderson, 1989, p. 254). The preoccupation with reflexivity is evinced
in the attention it commands, as Britzman has pointed out, “in almost every qualitative
research book or article . . . and … [its general acceptance] as a method qualitative

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researchers [use to confer] . . . ethnographic authority [on research]” (as cited in Pillow,
2003, p. 176).

As stated earlier, research is a political act, and for this reason susceptible to bias. As
an African-Canadian and former educator with close ties to Toronto’s Black community, I
bring to the study personal biases that I hope to address by reflecting upon them repeatedly.
While my personal views on TAAS and AE clearly inform this study, they are far eclipsed in
this regard by those of the participants.

Reflexivity, as I understand it, involves subjecting my preconceptions of the

phenomenon under study to “self-scrutiny” (Strater as cited in Pillow, 2003, p. 177). This is
very different from the positivist notion of “bracketing” (Williams & Morrow, 2009, p. 579),
that carries the implication that the researcher must in no way impinge upon the phenomenon
under study, an imperative I must, owing to my race, culture, affinity with the Black
community and ‘situatedness’ in the study, categorically reject.

I succeeded in creating a reflexive account of the phenomenon under study by

routinely ruminating upon how my race, class, ethnicity, nationality, social experience, etc.,
contributed to informing the analysis. To maintain reflexivity, I discussed the data and the
study, on a few occasions, with a colleague; I also kept a personal journal. This awareness,
borne constantly in mind, made it possible to keep my biases at arms-length and resist those
impulses that would have jeopardized the accuracy and rigor of the above account. In
addition, by repeatedly reviewing transcripts and field notes, I was able to capture the voices
of the participants, thus “let[ting] them speak for themselves” (Trinh as cited in Pillow, 2003,
p. 184).

4.14. Conclusion

This chapter has delineated how a qualitative research methodology allowed the
participants in this study to speak to the reality of their lived experience. Drawing upon
Afrocentric and critical paradigms, I have shown that research should not be viewed as a

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neutral undertaking; rather it constitutes a political activity with activist undercurrents and
nuances and revolutionary objectives, in which the researcher and participants collaborate in
interrogating social phenomena—in this case inequities in the public education system and
society at large—and in ‘speaking truth to power,’ thus problematizing the structures of
power and domination and the culture and ethos that work to sustain them. The following
chapter discusses the research findings.

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Chapter 5.

Afrocentric Education, Racism, Afrocentricity and Identity:

The Contestations

5.1. Black Parents and Afrocentric Education

In the chapter on methodology, I discussed the various means and/or methods, all
drawn from critical ethnography, used to recruit participants, gather, data and collect and
analyze documents. This chapter reports on the findings from the study, namely Black
parents’ experience of mainstream education and its effects on their children; their
understanding of Afrocentricity, TAAS and AE; the experiences and factors that have
contributed to shaping their personal identity; their own educational experiences; and their
views on issues concerning race and education. It should be noted that the interviews ranged
far and wide, touching on, among other things, the formation of a Black identity and the part
race plays in this process and the role of Black parents in home education. A total of 12
participants were interviewed, nine women and three men, all belonging to Toronto’s Black
community. The findings and themes that emerged reflected those in the literature.

5.2. The Perennial Presence of Racism in the

Educational System

Not only does experience of a phenomenon guide human actions; it contributes to

shaping them. To convey an understanding of African-Canadian parents’ perceptions of
TAAS and AE, and what informs those perceptions, the participants shared their experience
of racism gained while attending Toronto primary and/or secondary schools. In revealing
what they think of the public school system, the narratives provide insight regarding their
reasons for supporting or rejecting TAAS and AE. From the accounts presented below, one
gathers that racism, rather than changing to any significant extent, has instead mutated while
continuing to be denied (Raby, 2004), claims of reform notwithstanding. Those narratives

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covering the participants’ experiences as students reveal the pervasiveness of racism
throughout the education system.

Amma (Creative artist-educator): I know what it's like to go to schools with White
teachers . . . I remember going to school . . . I was in Grade 1, and came Christmas,
we had to make pictures of the Nativity. The teacher had given us pictures . . . and we
had to colour them . . . My grandfather, a Christian Minister, had told me that in the
area where the stories in the Bible took place, . . . there were no White people. So,
you're talking about Black people . . . Over the years, different people moved in and
out of the region and populations shifted around . . . When it came time to draw a
picture of Mary, Jesus, and Joseph, I made them Black. My teacher went berserk. She
lost her mind . . . This was all a new experience [to me]. This is what happens when
you're a kid and you encounter things you’ve never encountered before. . . . In . . .
Grade 1, I had no idea what was normal and what was not. I drew a picture of Mary,
Jesus, and Joseph. I made them Black. The teacher went crazy. She took my picture
and tore it up. As she tore it up, she said 'you made them dirty, you made them dirty,
how dare you!' . . . She slammed down another blank picture on the table and said,
“Do it again.” This time, I carefully made sure I coloured [the picture] within the
lines. I made sure that my hands were clean so I didn't smudge anything. [Again] I
made them Black. The teacher lost her mind again. This went on and each time she
kept saying you made them dirty, you made them filthy, and finally she said, “You
made them Black!” And I said, “Aren't they?” [laughter]. It still didn't click that she
was talking about race and that she was talking about Black people in a negative way.
Of course, they're Black. I knew this because in my house, we didn't have pictures of
the effeminate Jesus with the long limp, blond hair. . . . I only knew that they [Joseph,
Mary and Jesus] were Black. She lost her mind . . . I don't know if you are familiar
with the book Little Black Sambo. She used to . . . put me on a stool in front of the
class. This happened about once every week. She’d pull out Little Black Sambo. The
book had really negative stereotypical pictures of a Black child. Some of the pictures
had Sambo's lips so swollen; they looked grotesque, inhuman. [His] hair
. . . had bones in them and bits of flotsam and jetsam . . . She would walk across the
classroom reading the book with me sitting at the front [of the class] on the stool. She
would come back to the stool once awhile . . . and she would show the class the
pictures and would say, “You see the hair in this picture? That is what her hair [looks]
like.” . . . She it said in a tone, which made clear that something was bad about Little
Black Sambo’s hair, and my hair. I did not understand what was going on because I
would look at the picture she pointed to and it didn't look anything like me. My hair
was always neatly braided . . . I did not [understand] what she was doing. She would
then go on to highlight every single physical feature of Little Black Sambo. . . . She
would point to the pictures and tell the kids that, “ . . . Make sure you stay away from
that skin colour because it's dirty.”. . . I stopped liking school . . . because of this
incident. I didn't still really understand what was going on. For the longest time, I
thought that it hadn't impacted on me. . . . Because I did not fully understand what
was going on at the time, it did not have any impact on me. In Grade 5, I ran into

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 overt racism again. My stomach started to knot up on a constant basis; I started
having some physical symptoms similar to the same feelings I had always felt when I
was in Grade 1, which I didn't understand. But, as I said earlier, my grandfather had
immunized me to a great extent against racism so that I didn't lose my mind entirely,
which I actually should have, considering some of the things that I experienced in
school.

Amma's account reveals that a Eurocentric educational system is unable to

accommodate alternative knowledge systems; moreover, in its zeal to preserve White
supremacy, it punishes Black students whose attitudes it finds quarrelsome and subversive of
institutional authority. It does so and often by shaming them, e.g., by caricaturizing them
and/or their heritage. Amma’s story also points to the stressful relations between White
teachers and Black students, the former viewed by the latter as insensitive to their cultural
and educational needs. She also draws attention to the conflict between home and public
education and the latter’s project of assimilating Black students into Euro-Canadian culture.
Amma’s recollection of the way her teacher repeatedly used her as a model to illustrate a
particularly grotesque Black caricature helps us understand the ways in which schools foster
a sense of White superiority by demeaning Black students in often not-so-subtle ways.
Clearly, there exists no space in public education for oppositional constructions of beauty, for
facial features and hairstyles that signify “counter-hegemonic creation . . . and creativity”
(Patton, 2006, p. 40). Moreover, what this particular teacher—and for that matter, many of
their White counterparts—fail to understand is that Black hair represents, for some Black
parents, the very essence of a Black identity, culture and spirituality (Patton, 2006).

Ananse (Food justice manager): I was born in Canada. I attended a French Immersion
School for the first 8 years of my life . . . I remember going swimming for the first
time . . . I jumped in the pool and my hair shrunk into an 'afro' [laughter]. My teachers
were the most critical of me. They asked: 'what happened to your hair?' They weren't
sensitive. They did not take into consideration how their response did affect me as a
child. Also, they had no understanding of my genetic makeup; what happens to Black
children’s hair when they go into a pool [laughter]. Whereas this may sound like a
very little thing, it's a huge thing to a child. When you look at this incident from a
child's eye, they start to hate themselves. . . . It's important that we create safe spaces
where children [can] benefit from having people who look like them, who understand
them culturally and who won't [disrespect them because] they're different.

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 While Ananse's experience in the swimming pool may appear trivial to dominant
Canadians, the impact on her confidence and self-esteem cannot be easily dismissed. Even
though the teachers' response to the state of her hair was in no way intended to be
disparaging, it underscores, nonetheless, how cross-cultural misunderstandings can demean
students. And while there is no way of knowing for certain how a Black teacher would have
reacted in the same situation, it is not unreasonable to assume that by virtue of his/her race,
culture, and knowledge of Black students, he or she would have avoided embarrassing young
Ananse.

Abena (Project manager): I received my elementary and secondary education in North

America. Everything I learned about Africa was negative. . . . African history was
presented as a history of the savages. Africa was measured against North American
standards. I quit university because I found it too Eurocentric. The North American
Eurocentric culture literally drove me mad; I tried to commit suicide. I went through
culture shock. I did not see representations of my people in anything, not even
religion.

Abena's experience highlights the way in which public education homogenizes

Africa's many cultures, while signifying Africans as 'savages' and 'primitives,' labels that can
traumatize African-Canadian students emotionally and spiritually, compelling some to drop
out of school, a factor linked to rising poverty rates in African-Canadian communities and
increasing violence among African-Canadian youth. Abena’s brush with “suicide” focuses
attention on the ultimate cost racism imposes on some Black students. With their heritage
devalued by a dominant educational establishment working assiduously to promote “Anglo-
conformity” (Fleras & Elliott, 1992, p. 42), and with little hope of redress, Black students,
such as Abena, often contemplate suicide as a means to end their internalized oppression. A
sense of her experience with the public education system is captured by Asante (1991):

[Colonial and Eurocentric education] was truly a living death. While [its]
ontological onslaught caused some Africans to opt for suicide, the most
widespread results were dislocation, disorientation, and misorientation—all of
which were the consequences of the African person being actively de-
centered. (pp. 176-177)

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 It is apparent from the above narratives that the participants’ experience of the public
school system played a significant role in forming their perceptions of what passes for
mainstream education. They also challenge the liberal notion that the public school is a
neutral site where students of all races, ethnicities, genders, and classes can learn about
themselves and others with a view to building the kind of interracial and intercultural
understanding so essential to living in harmony in, and contributing to, a multicultural
society. The participants’ accounts of their experience constitute narratives of
institutionalized racism, self-doubt, erasure and distortion of African-Canadian heritage and
internalized oppression; they also reveal a feeling of powerlessness on the part of Black
students in particular, and Black parents in general, to remedy racist attitudes endemic in the
school system. Thus, though created to impart knowledge as part of a collective project
aimed at building a society founded on the principles of equality and social justice, one
where race, class, ethnicity and gender do not determine life opportunities, the school system
works to perpetuate White privilege. The above narratives help us understand the Black
community’s dissatisfaction with the educational status quo and why it invests so much hope
in an alternative form of education as the only means of addressing racism and academic
underperformance.

While the relationship between Black students and their White teachers is often
dysfunctional, or at best poses major challenges, there are exceptions; most notably, those
White teachers who are Afrocentric in their outlook and understand the intersectionality of
oppression are dependable allies of, and resources for, Black students. To take but one
example, Angela Wilson, a Jamaican immigrant to Canada, praises her “‘very white’ …
principal at Lord Roberts Public School in London [Ontario]” (as cited in Diebel, 2008, para.
9). Wilson attributes her courage and determination to challenge racism to her principal,
Douglas McAndles, “the former president of the Ontario Teachers’ Federation” (para. 10).
Wilson writes: “‘He’s a wonderful man, [and he was] very Afrocentric.’. . . ‘He has a love
for education and such a great spirit. He’s a part of my village’” (para. 10-11).

According to Wilson, McAndles cultivated in her a love of reading, which would lead
her to discover John Howard Griffin’s Black Like Me, an:

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 autobiography of a White Texan who [dyed] his skin Black and travelled
through the American South for six months in the ugly days of segregation in
order to understand what it was like to walk in the shoes of a Black man.
(Wilson as cited in Diebel, 2008, para. 13)

Wilson’s account challenges the posturing of Afrocentrists like Leonard Jeffries and Carol
Barnes, who, in their quest to educate Black students, ignore or marginalize all that is
European, including Western knowledge systems (Cobb, 1997; Barnes, 2001; Gates, 1991;
Ortiz de Montellano, 1993; Schlesinger, 1992). Her experience challenges the notion that
race can function as the foundation of Afrocentric education, e.g., as the chief criterion for
hiring teachers. According to Wright (1994), such a supposition, however popular, would
only work to constrain the intellectual growth and outlook of Black students (Wright, 1994b).

5.3. Afrocentricity:
Conceptual Interpretations

To be able to speak on an issue, Codjoe (2001) argues, one must demonstrate

knowledge of it and be able to "articulate th[e] feelings, experiences and thoughts" (p. 346).
of those most affected. I began each interview by asking the participants to explain what
Afrocentrism was and what they thought of it.

Patrick: Have you heard of Afrocentrism? What do you understand it to mean, and what
do you think of it?
Amma (Creative artist-educator): Afrocentrism is a . . . belief system . . . that positions
Africa and what is in the best interest of Africans at the centre of whatever people
activity is taking place . . . It is actually normative for people to be raised in a culture
that looks after what is best for them. . . . People who have congruence between
themselves and the culture . . . don't even think twice about it. But for those of us who
have had other cultures imposed on us . . . there is constant conflict. . . . I think the
concept is absolutely crucial to our true liberation. . . . As we went from being
Afrocentric to being somewhat Eurocentric, some more than others, there’s been a
shift in our thinking that we actually put other people first [before us]; we don't do
things that are in our best interest. We continue to do things from a servile
perspective. . . . I think it is necessary for us to go through these stages to be become
fully self-determined again. This is absolutely crucial.

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 Amma describes Afrocentricity as a constellation of African-centred ideas aimed at
raising awareness regarding Africa and Africans as numbering among the principal architects
of civilization. She presents Afrocentricity as an oppositional theory that challenges racist
perceptions of Africa, Africans and the Pan-African family. As a theory, Afrocentricity seeks
to undermine Africa and its peoples’ servile relationship with Europe and European systems
of thought, which are antithetical to the interests of both, and to chart a new destiny, one free
of the blight that is neocolonialism.

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): Afrocentricity is the way of life of African people; people
who are reclaiming their collective African identity, their history, their cultural
values, and their dignity in a White supremacist world that has constantly devalued
their history, their culture, and their values. . . . It is reclamation of the essence of the
African personality, the African identity, and our dignity as a people. Afrocentricity
is, in essence, centering people of African descent within the history of Africa . . . It is
a way of life that helps us to navigate the daily challenges of living in a very racist
society like Canada. Also, it empowers us to teach our children about the history,
culture, spiritual systems, and other contributions of people from the African
continent. I think Afrocentrism is an essential part of the daily living of people of
African descent because it helps us to stay grounded in terms of who we are,
mentally, physically, and spiritually. . . . It nourishes our minds, our bodies, and our
spirits to know who we are as African people, to understand that being African is
something to be extremely proud of, to be valued, and to be loved. It helps us to deal
with the daily challenges of living in a White supremacist society.

For Titina Silla, Afrocentricity serves the vital function of promoting both the
collective self-awareness of Africans and Pan-African solidarity through the rediscovery and
preservation of African culture, traditions, and practices that have sustained its peoples.
Afrocentricity seeks to authenticate what is genuinely African, and deemed African by
Africans, vis-à-vis foreign typecasts often used to deny Africans ownership of their own
destiny. Thus, it is only through self-knowledge that Africa's unity and resurgence can be
realized and guaranteed.

Ananse (Food justice manager): Afrocentrism is the daily cultivation and integration of
African culture into your day-to-day routine, be it education, work, your family or
home life. I feel that as Africans living in the diaspora, it’s important for us to
maintain our identity and connect our [inaudible] the future generations . . . I don’t
think Afrocentricity is specifically for the Afrocentric community but for indigenous
cultures trying to connect with their heritage . . . It’s critical that we have this
framework through which Black people can identify themselves.

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 Ananse describes Afrocentricity as the assimilation or internalization of African
values and their expression in everyday life. She views knowledge of Afrocentric theory as
critical to valorizing and realizing Pan-African unity. For her, it is a theory of consciousness
aimed at motivating Africans to ‘live’ African values. And while acknowledging that it is
open to a wide range of interpretations and is far from seamless, she recognizes its utility as a
philosophy of empowerment.

The participants’ interpretations of Afrocentricity, despite definitional variations, are

remarkably similar. All view Afrocentricity as a system of thought that works to promote
Black consciousness, heritage and culture, Pan-African unity and intellectually autonomy.
All perceive the theory to be conducive to grounding Africans in African values and fostering
in them the courage to challenge Eurocentric constructions of what Africa is, who Africans
are, and what each may become. Though none of the participants were authorities on
Afrocentric education, their responses were nonetheless eloquent, i.e., highly descriptive,
definitive and reflective of an assured familiarity. The participants’ definitions of
Afrocentricity demonstrate one thing: people, their education notwithstanding, are more
likely to adopt a theory that speaks to their history, struggles and desire for physical and
intellectual liberation.

5.4. Afrocentric Education:

A Contested Concept

An embryonic educational initiative charting a course littered with obstacles, AE

remains the object of intense scrutiny and debate. For its proponents, it constitutes a vehicle
for empowering Blacks and raising Black consciousness in a White-dominated Canada;
critics view AE as reminiscent of the "bad old days," i.e., as a segregationist project with
grave implications for Toronto's African-Canadian community as well as a threat to
Canadian multiculturalism. The view of TAAS as a segregationist project has its historical
roots in colonial Canada’s education system. In Upper Canada, for example, race was the
principal criterion for admission into the public school system. The Separate School Act of

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1850 was used to deny Black students equal educational opportunities (Winks, 1997).
Writing on TAAS, James (2011) rejects the argument that TAAS represents a return to a
racialized educational system:

The call to reject “[TAAS] by “skin colour” is rooted in a multicultural

discourse which advocates color-blindness, promotes integration of “cultural
groups,” and understands “difference”—in terms of identity and/or culture—
to be reflective of “foreignness,” which is seen as something schools should
not validate, for to do so would be to undermine the national cultural
integration project. As socializing institutions, schools, as they exist, are
thought to be well able to accommodate the differences among their racially
and ethnically diverse students population, and in so doing facilitate
exchanges among them in order for them [to] live and contribute to Canadian
society. (pp. 202-203)

The divisiveness surrounding TAAS is reflected in the lack of consensus regarding an

appropriate name for this educational model—Afrocentric education and African-centred
education have been suggested. Further division exists with regard to what AE means to
Black parents. Views on the Afrocentric educational model range from categorical support to
unconditional rejection.

Patrick: What is your understanding of AE, and what do you think of it?
Amma (Creative artist-educator): Afrocentric education is an educational model that
[helps] Black children [rise above an education system] . . . marked [by] pass and fail.
[It fosters] an atmosphere where they are tuned toward their community and feel a
connection and a responsibility in terms of what is best for their group . . . I think
Black students should be conversant with some fundamentals; . . . I think Afrocentric
education is crucial. Black parents need to make sure that it is deeply as Afrocentric
as it needs to be. It can't be just simply a fluff and superficial. Some people are under
the mistaken idea that Afrocentric education means you're going to pull out the names
of famous heroes and 'sheroes' and that's sufficient. . . Afrocentric education has to be
more than just talking about Viola Desmond, Harriet Tubman, and Nanny of the
Maroons. We need to get certainly into our history. [However] we have to deal with
all different aspects of people activity, e.g., art, culture, economics, education,
entertainment, labour, law, health, historical perspective, sex, politics, religion, war. .
. We need to not just simply copy what the mainstream society is doing or substitute
all the White children for Black ones and all the White teachers for Black ones. We
need to fundamentally change what goes on in the schools, as well as the general
approach to education. In addition, the entire community should be more involved.
Of course, the parents absolutely need to be active, but the general community should
be involved as well. . . . Lastly, there should be a certain, not necessarily religious,

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 but, certainly, a spiritual component in Afrocentric education because essentially, we
are a spiritual people. [A brief silence].

Amma's concept of AE is clearly in opposition to a Eurocentric model of education

that measures student success on the basis of individual academic standing, i.e., by rewarding
the individual for standing out from the rest, with no consideration given the contribution to
that success made by the collective— 'the village effect.' For Amma, there is, or should be,
more to AE than committing to memory the names of Black heroes. AE seeks, or ought to
seek, to inculcate in African-Canadian students an appreciation of their membership in the
African-Canadian community and inspire them to reach out to those who follow in their
footsteps, for only thus can African values be preserved.

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): Afrocentric education is designed . . . to help Black

children, parents and the community learn more about the historical and current
contributions of African people . . . to world civilization. [The aim of] Afrocentric
education is to help Black people transform their thinking from one which is
Eurocentric to one that is centred on our own experience, value systems and
worldviews. It has a healing component to it; it has helped me to look back at what I
was taught in school and to understand that I was taught lies about Black . . . history.
It has brought truth to my life by teaching me about Black contribution; it has taught
me that because the African value system is a communal, I have a responsibility to
the Black community; to educate my two children within an African-centred context
so that they can grow up to be great African leaders to continue the process of
liberation. It has also taught me that the individual, in the context of the collective,
can only reached his or her highest potential with the support of the collective. Thus,
if their goals are nurtured by the collective, the individual has a reciprocal
responsibility to give back to the collective . . . Another important aspect of
Afrocentric education is the sense of community it provides parents of the children
who go to the [Toronto Africentric Alternative] school, many of whom like myself,
who were not taught positive things about Black people, are now learning through
the school and their children and can see the change in their children’s level of
confidence . . . Afrocentric education nourishes our minds, our bodies and, most
importantly, our spirits as African people.

Titina Silla's comments underscore AE’s role as a vehicle for holistic education. AE
inculcates in students a love of community and a responsibility to give back to the
community; moreover, they come to see themselves as its representatives. Thus, do they
begin to perceive themselves, not as individual actors, but as part of a collective, i.e., the
African-Canadian community, to which they are duty-bound to act in ways that foster a

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positive image of that community. Titina Silla’s comments also foreground the cascading
effect of AE; not only does it educate Blacks students, it also educates Black parents and the
community at large. Returning home with knowledge acquired in the classroom, Afrocentric
students are in a position to instruct the African family, and beyond the domestic sphere the
proverbial ‘African village,’ in the process renewing the Black community’s interest in an
alternative form of education, based on an Afrocentric curriculum and pedagogy.
Afrocentric students thus help Black families and the Black community to interrogate
colonial assumptions about Africans and their heritage, and in so doing provide a corrective
to colonial miseducation.

Ananse (Food justice manager): My personal understanding of Afrocentric education is

. . . developing from an early educational age knowledge of the self, a love of the self
. . . and a love the collective self. The collective self is very important, because in the
regular school system most of the academic materials Black children are exposed to
do not reflect them . . . . As a part of the educational experience, it’s very important
that children identify with characters in books. Afrocentric education creates an
environment where Black children are nurtured to understand who they are, their
place in the universe, and to understand their history . . . and learn step-by-step
African traditions, which, unfortunately, for the Black community is slowly
disintegrating. We’re an oral community; we share traditions through storytelling,
through poetry. Unfortunately, we live in a society that doesn't nurture that oral
tradition enough let alone value it. So a lot of our African traditions have [been lost] .
. . An African-centred learning space provides that which has been lost. . . [Also, it]
optimizes the potential of [Black] child[ren].

Ananse’s comments foreground the importance of the African community to the

individual African who, sees him/herself as an extension of the collective and whose welfare
depends on the support of the community of which he or she is a member. In the context of
AE, Ananse seems to imply that Black students learn better among their own kind because
they can relate better to those who look like them, i.e., their co-racialists, whether their fellow
students or the Black heroes and ‘sheroes’ in their textbooks. Ananse credits AE for
cultivating pride in African-Canadian children during their most formative year through the
use of educational materials to which they can relate, e.g., those that present positive images
of Black people and narratives celebrating African heroes. Ananse's comments underscore
the importance of self-awareness in children, something that can translate into positive
learning outcomes. Her view of AE is in agreement with Amma's; both believe AE must

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oppose Eurocentric education and cultivate in African-Canadian students an appreciation of
and respect for the African-centred values at its core. From what I can gather from Ananse’s
comments, including orature, i.e., storytelling, as part of the curriculum, as prescribed by AE,
would allow Black students, especially those who have difficulty expressing their thoughts in
writing, to share their experiences and reclaim a part of their history that has “been lost,” a
view shared by hooks (1989).

The participants repeatedly emphasized the importance of membership in a

community, not only for Black students but for all those of African descent. In the case of the
individual African, achievement is contingent upon community effort and investment; it
follows then that for communities to be sustainable the individual must reciprocate. Nyerere
(1968) argues that for education to be meaningful, the successful, educated Africans must
give back to the community by, for example, working within it to help solve its problems.
Given Africa’s dismal condition, it is imperative, he contends that educated Africans help
identify problems within their communities and propose solutions that are relevant to an
African context, rather than rely on foreigners or adopt foreign models and prescriptions,
which, for the most part, tend to be at odds with Africa’s problems.

The view of the participants that AE is central to the education of the younger
generation of African-Canadians is shared by Gary Pieters. A member of the Toronto Star
Editorial Board as well as the vice-principal of a TDSB school and former principal of a
summer Afrocentric school, Pieters (2011) has nothing but praise for his school’s Afrocentric
program and AE in general. He states:

As the summer school principal, I interacted with the students and witnessed
its positive impact. Students told me they liked school better and were eager to
come to class, were more interested in learning about their cultural roots and
excited to share what they learned with others.

Staff, parents and the community also were enthusiastic and engaged.
With all the activities and events, the school looked like a community centre,
[replete with] parent engagement workshops, a parent information evening, a
parent breakfast, a bi-weekly newsletter to the community, professional

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 development workshops for staff, a community potluck luncheon and a
closing celebration for the community.

Plus there was real academic progress. Students in the D-minus-to-C-plus

range improved by one level, while students in the B-minus-to-A range
maintained their levels of achievement in literacy and numeracy. (para. 4-6)

In his testimonial Pieters (2011) focuses as much on the sense of community fostered
among the stakeholders as on the AE curriculum and academic achievement. As well as
catering to the educational needs of Black students, the Afrocentric summer programs caught
the interest of African-Canadian parents who proved eager to participate in school functions,
events and workshops. And while the events he chronicles occurred in 2005, 4 years prior to
the official opening of TAAS, the high provincial test scores obtained by TAAS students
would appear to confirm his reports of academic progress achieved by incorporating
culturally-relevant materials in the curriculum. It would appear that this kind of approach
offers the best hope for "reducing the racial achievement/opportunity gap for Blacks and
other racialized student populations" (para. 10). Notes Pieters:

In the 2009-10 academic year, 81% of Grade 3 students performed at or above

the provincial average in mathematics, compared with 71 per cent for the
TDSB at large, according to the Education Quality and Accountability Office.
Similarly, 81 per cent scored at or above the TDSB average in writing and 69
per cent scored above the TDSB average in reading. (para. 14)

As stated earlier, AE is not without its critics. One participant went so far as to
question its utility.

Ouzy (Senior manager-banker): My understanding of Afrocentric education is that . . .

the public education system was not serving Black students very well . . . [The goal
of] Afrocentric education . . . is to close the achievement gap . . . I don’t support the
Afrocentric School. I think . . . it segregates our children. I believe that when you see
a problem in the school system, you don’t create an alternative school . . . , but rather
you work within the system to fix the problem. I do not think creating an alternative
school will fix the [achievement gap] . . . , integrated education would.

Ouzy's position on AE conflicts with that of the other participants; yet, he is not alone
among members of the Toronto African-Canadian community who believe AE places Black
students at a disadvantage by narrowing the scope of their knowledge and skills, thereby

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limiting their career options. He contends that the best way to address the achievement gap in
schools lies in reforming the educational system, and particularly in adopting an inclusive
curriculum—something African-Canadian parents have lobbied the TDSB to do for many
years without success. More importantly, his view that all children, regardless of race, class,
ethnicity, etc., should "receive the same education . . . [and] grow up in the same culture"
(Ouzy, 27/09/2013) implies assimilating African-Canadian students into a White Canadian
culture, which the proponents of AE equate with giving up their African-Canadian identity—
everything that makes them African.

The participants' positions on AE are informed largely by their views on racism in the
public education system, whether predicated on personal experience, as in the case of Amma,
and Ananse or on what they perceive to be a distortion of African history and the valorization
of everything European, as in the case of Titina Silla. That AE is understood in different
ways by the participants and that they differ in their views on the form it should take going
forward—e.g., some argue the case for a strictly academic focus, others favour combining
academic with community education—shows that AE is an emerging model, at least in
Canada, and for this very reason, is much in need of public debate that would include those
outside the African-Canadian community.

What my analysis of the participants’ comments reveals is that their acceptance or

rejection of AE is a function of their place of birth, culture, perception of society and
experience with racism in Canada. While the participants whose birthplace was outside
Africa (all but Ouzy) supported AE, albeit with serious reservations, those of African birth
(Ouzy) rejected this educational model. Africans (Ouzy) who immigrated to Canada with the
hope of improving their "economic well-being" and accessing "better . . . opportunities
and/or greater . . . freedom" (Ogbu, 1990, p. 46) reject AE. Their perception of what
constitutes a better life is derived, I would argue, from a colonial, i.e., Eurocentric, education,
rendering them less mindful of the impact of racism vis-à-vis their counterparts of the
African Diaspora. Secure in their traditional African values, African-born Canadians view
AE as unimportant. For them, teaching African children African values is the responsibility

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of the African family, not the school system; the purpose of the latter is viewed to lie solely
providing young Africans with the requisite learning and skills to gain employment.

The perception of African-born Canadians as the guardians of African values in

relation to their Pan-African siblings is crudely conveyed in a provocative op-ed piece
entitled "Black Children need better parents, not schools" by Ike Agwu (2014). The author
blames the underperformance of Black students on “the collapse of the Black family within a
segment of the Black community (mostly concentrated amongst the descendants of slaves)”
(para. 7). He singles out single-parent households as the principal cause of poor academic
performance and a blighted future, ignoring altogether the oppressive and racist culture
fostered within in the public education system and the broader public in general. Asserts
Agwu (2014):

The real solution [to the Black problem] lies in telling our children the truth—that the
best way to ensure their children succeed is to ensure they are raised by two parents in
a committed relationship—in other words, two people who are married. Single
parenthood has been a disaster for [the Black]. . . . No parent can be a father and a
mother. The very notion that a single mother can be a mother and a father (a vacuous
idea I hear often) is as obtuse as it is demeaning to the role of father in the lives of
their children. [With] many black children are . . . raised in these homes, no amount
of 'specialty schools' will save them. (para. 9). . . . Let's take a long, hard and honest
look at that 'school' before blaming teachers, society, prattling on about specialty
ones. (para. 10)

Agwu’s ad hominem censure of African-Canadian families highlights the new ways in which
coloniality, a relic of colonialism and colonial narratives, operates in public discourses and
within social structures. While the primary goal of colonialism was to destroy the African
capacity for independent thought and undermine Africa’s place in the world, colonality, in its
current guise, affords African elites the luxury of examining the African experience in White
settler societies through a European lens, thereby ignoring altogether its complexity.

The true insidiousness of coloniality lies in its ability to pre-empt calls for the
spectrum liberation of the African mind. Entranced by its depreciatory language and self-
assurance in slandering the African family, and especially Black mothers, educated Africans
have assumed the role of a fifth column surreptitiously advancing the neocolonial project

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from within their own communities. They facilitate the oppression of Africans by absolving
the colonizer from moral responsibility, enabling the latter to shift blame onto African-
Canadians for their plight, citing the work of fellow Africans (Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2013).

Africans of the diaspora, on the other hand, support AE primarily because they view
Canada in a way fundamentally different vis-à-vis their African-born counterparts.
According to Ogbu (1990), they "interpret the social, political, and economic barriers erected
against them as undeserved oppression. . . . while believ[ing] improved economic well-being,
better . . . opportunities, and political freedom will result only through collective struggle
against the dominant group" (p. 47). Africans of the diaspora lay claim to an African identity
discovered during the course of a journey of self-discovery, which they then pass on to their
children, a luxury afforded their continental siblings by virtue of their birth in the homeland.

I further attribute African-Canadian support for TAAS and AE to firsthand

experience with racism in Canada, combined with a healthy skepticism regarding the gospel
of “[equality] warmth, friendliness and [compassion]” preached by the dominant order and
celebrated by White multiculturalists (Delpit, 1988, p. 296). Obversely, those (Ouzy) who
migrated to Canada as adults see nothing wrong with colonial education, to which they owe
their success, a stance that Fanon (1967) contests. In his view, European education has
stripped African elites of their African identity and alienated them from the collective life
that distinguishes the common African from his European counterpart. In their quest to rise
above their fellow Africans, many among the continent’s elites have elected to throw in their
lot with the former colonizers, even going so far as to deny European complicity in the
underdevelopment of Africa—all with a view to securing preferment.

Judging by newspaper articles, there appears to be little in the way of consensus

among Black parents as to what AE is. Even for advocates, it remains a nebulous concept,
which explains the debates that swirl around it, the majority centering on questions regarding
its existential nature: What exactly is AE? What does it look like? What constitutes the best
pedagogical approach? And while some parents argue that the curriculum should be weighted
heavily in favour of Africa’s distant past, others believe it should focus on the continent’s

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colonial and post-colonial history, thus preempting criticism that AE dwells far too much on
a romantic past that likely never was, in effect relegating Africa to the status of a Black
homeland stuck in time and space and consigning its disparate peoples to the bottom rung of
civilization. It is unlikely these issues will be resolved any time soon.

In Brown’s 2010 article that appeared in the Toronto Star, parents like Rebeckah
Price reject the idea of framing AE around Africa’s ancient past if this means ignoring its
more recent achievements:

Some parents want the kids to be learning Kiswahili and doing libations every
day. They want to talk about living in huts and eating with your hands—yet in
some parts of Africa, like Ghana, people live in beautiful homes like you'd see
here in the suburbs. Everyone's understanding of Africa is different. (Price as
cited in Brown, 2010, para. 5)

Afua Marcus, whose son attends TAAS, attributes the lack of consensus among parents “to
every parent having a different definition" (cited in Brown, 2010). Yet, one thing is beyond
doubt: in the absence of a unified and coherent vision of what AE is, it will prove impossible
to formulate policies that move the school forward, i.e., that advance the interests of students.
Meanwhile, within the walls of academe, debates on AE often degenerate into wars of
scholarly attrition (Dei, 1998; Lund, 1998). What is unique about them is the passion
Afrocentricity arouses, particularly when the focus shifts to educational reform.

5.5. The Toronto Alternative Afrocentric School as

Viewed by Critics and Supporters

Since its inception and establishment, TAAS has generated public controversy and
doubtless will continue to do so (Johnson, 2013; Levine-Rasky, 2014). This section
examines what African-Canadian parents think of the school. The participants' evident
passion for TAAS is clearly articulated in their respective assessments of the school. And
where the latter are critical, the reason lies, not with any lack of support for the school per se,
but with the conviction that it is departing from some its founding principles and goals.

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Those supporting the school fall into three camps: ardent proponents, the mildly discontented
albeit still hopeful, and the wait-and-see pragmatists.

Patrick: What do you think of TAAS?

Amma (Creative artist-educator): [A brief silence and a sigh]. If you had asked me this
question a couple of years ago, I would have given a different answer. I think that the
school is departing from its high standards; it’s waning and to a certain extent losing
itself. . . . I felt the school was on the ascendency a couple of years ago. That they
were working toward a strong future; that year-by-year, they would produce students
who were grounded in Afrocentric approach to education and were driven to achieve
academically and are connected to the community. . . . I saw kids . . . blossom at
different events. I saw kids come to the school broken from the anti-African abuse in
the regular school system who I almost couldn't recognize by the end of the year. . . .
I watched kids who wouldn’t speak at one point become . . . self-possessed and
articulate. The students were definitely on the ascendency and I could see that. Not
anymore. I am concerned about the school . . . because if it becomes diluted in terms
of the things it used to do, which were crucial to being an Afrocentric school. . . . It's
not honouring its original promise. For many of us who have longed for an
Afrocentric school, it was never about simply producing academically sound
Eurocentric Black students. The promise of the TAAS was to produce children of
character . . . who are deeply knowledgeable about their collective cultural heritage;
children who are comfortable around their elders and are protective of their young
ones. The school was established to produce students who are cognizant of the global
African family and are guided by sound moral values and not just physical and
intellectual maturity. The aim of the school was to produce students who would be
curious, confident and who are eager to stay connected to the Black community after
their education was completed. . . . If the TAAS didn’t reach those soaring heights, it
still would be of value because I know what it's like to go to a school where you're
not in the majority. . . . Nonetheless, it would be far removed from its potential . . . , it
could become diluted in its orientation; a desire to try and make it more like the other
school. And the high school program, and this has to be stressed, it's a program. . . . I
am concerned because it's possible it wouldn't last. It's under attack. People who
were opposed to the school being militantly Black are under the bamboozlement of
integration. They don't understand that integration only works if we . . . give up all
things that are essential to us; being able to do what we do and I am not for that.

Reflecting upon TAAS and AE, Amma gives voice to the fear that TAAS is
regressing into a White-oriented school with a Black face. Thus, while at present the school
offers parents a sense of hope, uncertainty remains as to its future, assuming there is one. As
with so many ardent supporters of TAAS, she would like to see it preserve its original goal of
making the Black community part of the educational process. Her fear is that the school is

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slowly and ineluctably falling within the orbit of the very mainstream education that
Afrocentric parents fault for having failed their children. Amma believes that any tinkering
with TAAS aimed at conforming to the educational status quo will mean giving up some of
the fundamental values that make Black Canadians unique.

Amma’s comments also represent a critique of integrated education. For her,

integration means Black parents relinquish control of their children to the neocolonial
educational establishment, thus reinforcing the status quo, i.e., of an educational system that
downplays the historical legacy of White oppression, marginalizes Black heritage, and
reproduces White supremacy. Her critique of integration accords with that of Du Bois
(1935). In his writings on segregated education, Du Bois rejected the view that integrated
education was essential if Black students were to excel academically. According to Du Bois
(1935), separate education was the better option as it would preclude Black students being
treated as second-class citizens and their heritage marginalized. Alternative education, i.e.,
segregated schools, would, he believed, bring Black students the peace of mind afforded by
the absence of the judgmental gaze. Only then would they be positioned to learn about and
value their heritage.

Recent studies conducted in the US show that integrated education remains very
much a one-way street (Colby, 2014) in that its implementation requires Black communities
to submit to the demands of Whites, e.g., busing Black students to schools located in White
communities rather than the converse. In an era of budget cutbacks, one can argue that this
model is unsustainable. According to Colby (2014), integrated education does not go far
enough. Part of the problem lies with a penchant for “statistical proof of significant progress”
(p. 8), with little consideration given unrestricted access to public schools, something that
zoning laws and the use of area codes to determine eligibility, to take but two examples,
precludes. Too often, in integrated schools “Black students stay on their own side of the
cafeteria and then bused home at 3 p.m.” (p. 9). This kind of de facto segregation existing
within integrated school systems explains why some Black parents, along with critics of the
mainstream public school system, have lobbied for Afrocentric schools where they can
“exercise control over the lives [and the education of their children]” (p. 10).

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 While admitting to only a "general knowledge" of TAAS, Ouzy insists that its
learning goals and objectives can be met by the existing public education system.

Ouzy (Senior manager-banker): To be honest . . . I have [a] general knowledge of the

school. I have met supporters of the school who have told me I need to learn more
about the school. What I do know about the school is that it is . . . funded by the
Toronto District School Board. [At the school] Black kids learn drumming, Black
inventors and Black contribution to society. . . . The Afrocentric School it is not
representative of . . . Toronto. . . We are segregating our kids.

Ouzy takes a more conservative position on TAAS. While admitting his knowledge
of the school to be limited, he believes that the solutions to the problems facing Black
students are to be found within the existing public school system—a view not borne out by
past efforts to reform the education system, the failure of which would lead to the creation of
TAAS. He also equates TAAS with "segregation," the term its critics apply to US school
systems of the pre-Civil Rights era, in the process ignoring the difference between separation
of the races de jure and separation by choice, respectively. Ouzy’s comments underscore the
perils to be encountered when presenting popular and plausible narratives as truths. In
exercising his right of free speech, albeit with the caveat that his knowledge of TAAS is
limited, Ouzy, like other critics of TAAS, only adds to the confusion surrounding the school.
Thus, for example, while admitting TAAS to be under TDSB jurisdiction, a fact, he goes on
to describe the school as separatist, which is highly problematic given the TDSB
commitment to inclusive education in a multicultural environment.

Ouzy is not alone in criticizing TAAS on the basis of limited knowledge. Dick Field,
a Second World War veteran, expressed his frustration with the Afrocentric School in an
email to Maclean’s. According to him, the notion of a “Eurocentric” curriculum working
against Black youth is absurd. It is this very ‘Eurocentric’ history and culture, so maligned by
these racial advocates that has allowed all our freedoms to flourish” (as cited in Maclean’s,
2008, para. 9).

Field's understanding of a Eurocentric curriculum and its impact on non-White

students is wholly uninformed; moreover, as is the case with so many critics of TAAS, his

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criticism of the school and AE borders on “White defensiveness” (Roman cited in Raby,
2004, p. 377). In promoting White supremacy, a Eurocentric curriculum not only impedes the
intellectual development of Black students, it also nurtures in them a deep disaffection for
learning, resulting in high dropout rates (Dei, 2008). Field's assumption that the collective
freedoms Canadians enjoy are the fruits of "Eurocentric history and culture" carries with it an
undercurrent of White paternalism and generosity of spirit, which pervades social and
academic discourses, often distorting or erasing the contributions to the war effort made by
people of African descent.

In a letter-to-the editor, Alvin Stuffels asserts that the decision by the TDSB to
establish the Afrocentric school is racist (as cited in Maclean’s, 2008). “‘If a White person
suggests an all-White school, that person would be called a racist and a Nazi.’. . . ‘Our
society is becoming more and more prejudiced against White males, and nobody is
questioning it’” (para. 16). In a subsequent email, he apologizes for this earlier outburst,
adding that while still opposed to TAAS and AE, he believes that the solution to closing the
educational gap in the public school system lies with curricular reforms aimed at promoting
inclusivity (as cited in Maclean’s, 2008).

While not alone in labeling TAAS racist, Stuffels ignores the fact that the school,
unlike its faith and gender-based counterparts, is open to students of all races, cultures and
religions who are interested in moving beyond the confines of Eurocentric education to
embrace alternative knowledge systems that validate the histories and contributions made by
non-White Canadians both to Canada and to world civilization. Stuffels fails to take into
account that the majority residing in Toronto's middle and upper-class neighbourhoods are
White and that the school curricula are mainly Eurocentric. As is the case with most critics,
his animus against TAAS is directed not at what the school purports to teach, but at its
insistence on calling itself Afrocentric and on celebrating ‘Blackness,’ which works to stir up
memories of Canada’s unsavory racist past, along with fear of a racialized ‘other’ about to set
forth along the path of resistance.

Despite one negative evaluation, the majority of the participants supported TAAS.

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 Goddess (Educator): The school . . . demonstrates the commitment of activists, elders,
organizers and educators who fought hard to bring it to fruition. There were similar
schools to the Afrocentric School that have not been formally acknowledged . . .
Maybe, they were educational programs as opposed to a school. . . . We need more
Afrocentric schools around the GTA [Greater Toronto Area] and the province to be
able to fully address the academic, socio-economic, cultural, spiritual and political
needs of Black people.

In addition to educating Black students, TAAS, in Goddess view, represents a

symbolic victory for the entire African-Canadian community, one made possible by the
dedication of its members; it also provides the impetus for community-based initiatives
aimed at achieving social justice and equity. Her reference to earlier Afrocentric initiatives8
underscores the commitment to Afrocentric programs existing within a subset of Toronto’s
African-Canadian community.

Shaka (Office manager): The Afrocentric School is a step in the right direction. It’s an
opportunity to interrogate the curriculum and to introduce concepts that allow young
students to see themselves as important . . . . It’s an opportunity . . . to change how we
think and teach. . . . The school allows us to re-interrogate history from a critical
standpoint with the aim of giving our children a better understanding of who they are
and Black contribution to civilization, which the regular school system does not
provide them.

From Shaka's perspective, TAAS’ objectives are two-fold: to provide African-

Canadian students with an education that is relevant to their day-to-day lives and to supplant
Eurocentric knowledge with African-centred knowledge, something that requires
‘unlearning’ the former. Thus, rather than passively acquiesce to narratives predicated on a
European perspective, African-Canadian students are taught to deconstruct them with a view
to revealing how they work as vehicles of White supremacy, e.g., by devaluing Afrocentric
knowledge.

Jennifer (Teacher-curriculum consultant): The [Afrocentric] model is a great idea. It’s

a great alternative to regular schools in that it . . . seeks to address . . . some of the
concerns with the wide achievement gap between Black students and students of
other ethnic groups. It is a great idea. . . . For me, it's something that would need a lot
of support and a lot of professional development to execute so that it replicates as

8
Some of the earlier Afrocentric initiatives are: The Harambee School, the Umoja Learning Circle and the
Heritage program

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 little as possible mainstream classes. . . . The question for me is, how can it co-exist in
the same system that it seeks to challenge and be successful? There has to be a
formula for that because, as I said, you don't want it to end up being just another
school.

As with so many of the other respondents, Jennifer sees TAAS as a corrective to the
public school system, which in her view bears a large measure of responsibility for the
underperformance of Black students. She also acknowledges the many challenges inherent in
applying AE in a real-world situation, not the least of which involves finding the requisite
resources for the training and professional development of teachers. In her view, if TAAS is
to succeed in providing an alternative to mainstream education, it is essential to develop a
strategy capable of avoiding the many pitfalls that will be encountered along the way.

Rolonda (Social services worker): I think it’s one of a kind and I really hope
it’s embraced by the Black community. . . . I wish there were Afrocentric
schools available when I was growing up. I wanted to get my kids into the
school, but I couldn’t because I live outside the zone. . . . [At the moment,]
Black people know their history and can no longer be fooled by a White
society. We didn’t need to be saved [by Europeans] or taught about the
Creator; they [Europeans] came in and took us captives; they beat us till we
stopped speaking our language . . . TV commercials on Africa depict Africans
as hungry and in need of water. Black children in North America and Europe
do not want to be associated with [continental Africans]. . . . It is good to
teach Black children that . . . there’s more to Africa.

Rolonda's comments reveal both TAAS’ popularity among a certain subset within the
Toronto African-Canadian community and its success in contesting Eurocentric narratives of
Africa and people of African descent. Moreover, in addition to educating Black students,
TAAS serves as a flagship for African-Canadian achievement. Her comments also highlight
the role of the mainstream media in presenting Africa in a negative light by disseminating
racist constructs and discourses that in concert with the mainstream public education system
shape the public perception of Africa and Africans. What I gather from Rolonda’s comments
is that alternative education, by virtue of the awareness it fosters, is crucial to educating
Black students to see the Africa that lies beyond the media stereotypes.

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 Zindzi qualifies her support for TAAS and AE, on the grounds that, in certain
respects, the school represents a throwback to the pre-Civil Rights era. Their perception of
the school and AE underscores the power of mainstream media with respect to informing
public opinion.

Zindzi (Nurse): When I first heard about the school, my reaction was we did not need a
special school to empower Black students. I believe Afrocentric education can be
made part of the public school system so that students from different cultures can
learn about Black heritage. Teaching Black students about their heritage does not
promote awareness in the education system. [However], if every student is
introduced to Afrocentric curriculum, White students [and other students of colour]
would learn about Afrocentrism and be open-minded. I do not see the point in
limiting Afrocentric education to one particular group of students [Black students] . . .
I think that every student should be introduced to Afrocentric education. This will
empower them and not just Black students.

Zindzi's initial skepticism toward TAAS is predicated on the belief that the regular
school system can be reformed, particularly in regard to creating an inclusive curriculum.
Her comments also reflect the belief held by some African-Canadians that raising public
consciousness of African-Canadian history and contributions to Canada might best be
achieved in a multiracial and intercultural school setting where Black and non-Black students
have the opportunity to learn about each other's cultures as opposed to Black students
learning only about theirs to the exclusion of other Canadians, which is something TAAS and
AE critics view to be limiting.

Patrick: Responding to the question, you mentioned that people’s perceptions of the
school affected your view of the school. Can you describe these perceptions?
Zindzi (Nurse): When I told a family member of mine about the school and that I was
thinking of enrolling my son, she said, why would you do that? We’ve come from
that [racial segregation]. I think the issue was that people didn’t understand the
purpose of the school. . . . When the message went out that there was going to be an
‘All-Black’ school, . . . people were like, . . . we’re going back; we’ve [already] come
from that; why should we have our own school? Also, I think the media portrayed the
school in a negative way, which made people criticize the school at the beginning.

Zindzi’s comments reveal an understandable reluctance on the part of the Black

community to revisit an educational concept that had failed them in the past; what is also

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revealed is the failure of TAAS and AE proponents to educate the community as to the
school’s what?

While associated exclusively with the US, segregated schools were also to be found
in Upper Canada. The educational model upon which they were predicated was premised on
the notion that race, class, gender, etc., “w[ere] natural, predetermined, and unassailable”
(Harper, 1997, p. 194). In Upper Canada, the Negro Separate School Act of 1849 (Harper,
1997), denied Black students admission to Common Schools; it also ensured that Black
schools “were . . . poorly financed and their teachers poorly trained” (Harper, 1997, p. 195)
and that students were “separat[ed] between racial and ethnic groups so that . . . British . . .
cultural superiority would not be “weakened” by mixing . . . culturally with other groups”
(Harper, 1997, p. 196). TAAS is based on “segregation by choice” (Dei, 1994, p. 186).
Admission is open to all students, race notwithstanding, a policy Dei holds to be crucial to
“counter[ing] racism and interlocking systems of discrimination” (Dei, 1994, p. 187). The
role of the mainstream media in spinning narratives signifying the school as a segregationist
project that would impede African-Canadian students in attaining their educational goals is
also underscored here. Such narratives, it should be pointed, often play on White fears of
Black autonomy, i.e., of the unknown ‘other’ whose empowerment through education poses a
threat to the status quo.

Zindzi’s view that every student ought to be introduced to AE and that all students
would benefit thereby is supported by evidence. The unqualified success of the Black history
course offered by the Cardinal Ambrozic Catholic Secondary School demonstrates that AE is
compatible with multicultural education—that the latter can accommodate disparate
knowledge systems under the umbrella of one broad knowledge system, the aim being to
promote the development of an inclusive society. What the Cardinal Ambrozic case suggests
is that education should be predicated less on the public perception of what should or should
not be taught in the public school system, and more on an empirically-determined assessment
of the educational needs of students, especially as these relate to the broader aim of building
an inclusive society and producing responsible citizens. Alas, too often the polemical debates

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that have raged among critics, school authorities, parents of school children and the public
have succeeded only in obscuring the main issue, i.e., of how best to educate children.

Even though the AE model aims at, among other things, closing the achievement gap
between White and Black students, the recent adoption of an Afrocentric history course by
Brampton's Cardinal Ambrozic Catholic Secondary School and the positive feedback
generated among the predominantly White student body suggests that systemic educational
reform may not be such a wild-eyed notion. The unqualified success of the course in so
unlikely a milieu raises the question of whether anything is to be gained by rejecting AE out
of hand. Let us turn to examining this success story and the enthusiasm it stirred among
students and teachers.

When students arrived at the Cardinal Ambrozic Catholic Secondary School on the
opening day of the 2013-2014 school year, they discovered something new and unexpected
in the curriculum: a course examining the history of Africa and the contributions of its
disparate peoples to world civilization. This course, along with the responses it elicited from
the teaching staff and the 13 students, 12 Whites and one Black, who choose to enroll in it
would prove to be the single biggest surprise encountered during the research phase of this
paper. According to Lidia Petrone, an English teacher at the school "the course [has] left a
lasting impression on her as well [her] students" (as cited in Belgrave, 2013, para. 6).
According to Joanna Newton, an African-Canadian curriculum consultant, who helped
design the course and would subsequently teach it at St. Edmund Campion Secondary
School, “[it] was based on [the] curriculum being taught at the Toronto District School
Board's Afrocentric Alternative School" (para. 8). She goes on to add that "this (course) gave
students a chance to see themselves in the curriculum" (para. 9). Moreover, she "describes
teaching the course “as one of the most amazing experiences [she has] ever had as a teacher”
(para. 9). She also admits to having known little of what it is that AE purports to teach
students, but now realizes that "it's important that all students . . . tak[e] this course" (para.
11).

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 According Lidia Petrone, the Afrocentric history course examines the Black
experience and heritage beyond the perfunctory prominence they receive in Canadian,
American or world history classes, which cover the American civil rights movement and/or
the period of slavery. Doubtless, she would concur with Belgrave’s view that "[it] puts
African history under a much more powerful microscope and even gets students rethinking
and discussing their ideas about the cradle of civilization" (as cited in Belgrave, 2013, para.
13). As a corrective to the plethora of discourses on, and images of, "poverty, homelessness,
drought, and pain and suffering going on in Africa" (as cited in Belgrave, 2013, para. 16), AE
offers students interested in learning about its contributions to world civilization a radically
different perspective, one that is inclusive and non-hegemonic and as such enables African-
Canadian students to feel connected to the land of their forebears. In addition to providing
exposure to alternative knowledge systems and interpretations of history, AE changes
attitudes and motivates students to take an uncompromising stance against racism in all its
forms, while encouraging respect for one another other and cultivating the sense of agency
required to at least try to make a difference, however modest. The following comments
provided by the Cardinal Ambrozic students who completed the course reveal the extent to
which it has transformed their views on Africa and African-Canadians.

For Lucia Okeh, the course provided fresh insight regarding Africa’s contributions to
civilization. “I used to think Africa didn't produce anything; only the negatives are shown.
Now, I have a much greater appreciation for the contributions the continent has made to
humankind” (as cited in Belgrave, 2013, para. 14). Ryan Griffith, who was no stranger to the
“N” word had this to say about the Afrocentric course. “Before I didn't think it was a big
deal, but now (he can't help think) that was what some Black slave[s] heard before they died.
I just don't participate in that behaviour [anymore]. . . . It's just good to be enlightened” (as
cited in Belgrave, 2013, para. 22).

After gaining a new sense of, and appreciation for, who she is, Melinda Edowen, a
16-year old student, rejects being defined by others and instead contemplates educating those
who are ignorant concerning the African experience and the continent’s history. “I should
educate (them) because they don't know the stuff I know” (cited in Belgrave, 2013, para. 24).

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 While TAAS remains popular among Toronto's Black community, it is not without its
critics, some of whom number among its most ardent supporters. The first of its kind, and the
first to be incorporated in the TDSB, TAAS is, arguably, a work in progress, and one without
precedent. Under the supervisory authority of the TDSB, TAAS has no real independence,
which proved to be an emotive issue for some participants; others, however, hailed the school
as a possible corrective to the achievement gap in the education of Black students. Though
their views on the school varied, none, apart from Ouzy, questioned its utility. And despite
their differences, all were keenly interested in the education of African-Canadian students.
Moreover, each provided penetrating insights that could form the basis for future discussions
aimed at making education more meaningful for African-Canadian children.

5.6. Identity Politics and African-Canadians

Personal identity, i.e., how one sees oneself, plays a critical role in shaping one’s self
development, and Black students are no exception to this rule. Their disagreements
notwithstanding, both supporters and critics of TAAS and AE agree that identity plays an
important role in education. The participants were asked to share their views on this
phenomenon and on how it informs their social lives. Their responses are crucial to
understanding the importance of personal identity in the education of African-Canadian
students.

Patrick: As a Black Canadian, how important is Blackness in the formation of your

identity and in your daily life?
Shaka (Office manager): First of all, I find it offensive when people call me a Black
Canadian. I am not a Black Canadian, I am an African-Canadian. Black is a colour
used to divide and [rule] people based on their skin colour. . . . When a child grows
up and sees himself . . . as a footnote in someone else’s history, it will reflect in the
way he acts as he grows up. . . . Identity is crucial in terms of repairing the damage
caused by 400 years of human bondage. . . . This is why the Afrocentric School is . . .
a step in the right direction; to repair the damage and give our children [the]
opportunity to fulfil their true objective in life.
Abena (Project manager): I don’t call myself Black . . . When you call yourself Black,
you do not attach yourself to a geographical location . . . I call myself an African.
When I am pressed, I’d say I am a person of African descent. . . . Being an African

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 has helped me redefine myself; it has helped me find my life purpose; it has helped
me discover my spiritual foundation; it has put me completely on a different path.

Shaka’ response underscores the importance that some African-Canadians attach to

their personal identity, which is often defined in opposition to colonial constructs. It appears
that for Shaka, cultivating an identity in the formative stages of a child’s life is crucial to later
success. Being comfortable with one’s identity and with one’s heritage helps build self-
confidence and with it the ability to cope with the psychological trauma stemming from
attacks on one’s heritage. Like Shaka, identity is important to Abena—an identity defined not
by colour but by the geographical location of one’s ancestors. For Abena, identity ties one to
one’s homeland and grounds one in its values and practices. Inseparable from identity is a
sense of belonging to a community in which one can develop to one’s full potential.

Ananse (Food justice manager): The term, 'Black', was given to people of African descent
in the early 1800s. It’s one of the most derogatory words in the dictionary. I think we
identify with our African heritage because through enslavement, we ended up in
different places as a people. My cultural heritage is one from Africa to the Caribbean
and to Canada . . . I think it's critical that as a people, we embrace who we are . . . and
make sure [it is] in alignment with our heritage and not one that we have assimilated
just to get by in a foreign environment.

In challenging the term “Black,” Ananse foregrounds the importance of an African-

Canadian identity. A healthy self-awareness is possible, she believes, provided one accepts
who one is. For her, identity is inseparable from place, in this case Africa. Permitting others
to define one’s identity can lead, Ananse asserts, to the loss of one’s heritage, and accepting
negative definitions amounts to internalizing oppression. Ananse’s comments underscore
TAAS’ original purpose, which was to serve as a bulwark against efforts on the part of the
mainstream school system to devalue African heritage and the African contribution to
civilization.

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): First of all, . . . I define myself as an African who lives in
Canada. . . . My Africanness is life-sustaining; it is the essence of who I am. I was
born African and I am proud to be African. From a very young age, I have sought to
learn more about my culture, about my people and about the African continent.
Being an African in Canada fills me with a great sense of pride.

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 Titina Silla’s comments foreground the problematic nature of African identity. Her
view of the latter as something fixed has been challenged by critics of Afrocentricity (Austin,
2006; Gates, 1991; Ginwright, 2004; Lund, 1998). According to Wright (1994b), the African
identity is pliable, and any suggestion that it is undifferentiated smacks of essentialism, of a
wilful determination to romanticize Africa and the African fraternity by signifying both as
seamless, devoid of peculiarities, tensions and divisions. In “Is this an African I see before
me? Black/African identity and the politics of (Western, academic) knowledge” Wright
outlines how African identity is constructed in Western academic discourses. In his view, the
construction and depiction of Africans is born of European prejudice (Wright,
2012). African identity is complex; reifying Africans of different ethnicities, cultures, etc.,
requires “sweeping generalizations . . . of Africa and Africans” (p. 182).

“Black Africans” are not particularly Black in Africa; in fact [they] are not
particularly African. . . . Blackness is not an important form of identity. . . .
Blackness as a phenotype, or more simply as skin color, is not a particularly
meaningful form of identity to the average person in Africa and Blackness as
singular ethnicity (the idea of making race and ethnicity synonymous being
problematic aside) is almost meaningless in the context of the great
multiplicity of African ethnicities. . . . Identity in the “Black” African context
is rather about ethnicity, social class, language, village or city of birth,
religion, gender, etc. (p. 185)

Du Bois (1935) illuminates the social construction of identity (race). Despite a

willingness to mine race for its essentialism, which could then serve as the basis for
organizing Blacks politically, Du Bois challenged the notion of race as monolithic. In his
view, “race lines [were] not fixed. Within the Negro group . . . were people of all colors” (Du
Bois, 1968, p. 101). For Du Bois, being Black involved more than a geographical location or
place of birth. Self-identifying as Black or as African constituted a state of mind, a sense of
ancestral connection, real or imaginary, to the African homeland. For Du Bois, a Black
identity constitutes an artificial construct grounded in and shaped by history. Thus, one might
infer that a certain subset of Blacks in the American South arrived at a sense of self-identity
as Africans because of their officially sanctioned mistreatment and relegation to the status of
a second-class citizen. White terror, racism and harsh socio-economic conditions, along with
repressive laws and mob justice, e.g., lynchings that often attracted large White audiences,

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led these Blacks to envision Africa and lay claim to it as a Black homeland on the basis of
their ancestry. For some Black Americans, especially modern-day Afrocentrists, Africa
provides a sense of belonging, a feeling of acceptance. For Du Bois and other Black
intellectuals, developing a collective Black identity was a prerequisite for achieving unity,
self-determination and a sense of dignity. Jennifer has this to say regarding her own personal
identity:

Jennifer (Teacher-curriculum consultant): As a young person, I have always sought to

understand the history of Black Canadians. . . . As a Black person, I was made to feel
as though I didn't belong here because my parents came from somewhere; that I don't
have close ties to Canada and therefore not necessarily Canadian . . . I always wanted
to get an understanding of Black Canadian history. Doing so, it empowered me as a
young person. I became more knowledgeable and self-assured. Also, I became more
equipped to challenge things that the Black community was facing at a particular
time. I got a better understanding the things that are not necessarily new.

Jennifer’s comments underscore the struggles young African-Canadians face in

coming to grips with their identity. The notion of citizenship, of who belongs here and who
does not, is often framed around race rather than where one was born or from where one’s
forebears hailed. Jennifer’s account sheds light on how an interest in Black history has
enabled her to deal with a sense of not belonging, of lacking roots, that afflicts so many
African-Canadian students. The participants’ comments bring to the fore the unresolved
question of identity, i.e., of Blackness. Some view identity as inherent, as part of one’s
genetic makeup and therefore unchanging; others see it as a colonial construct, rife with
negative connotations. Vacillating between the two extremes, many African-Canadians
struggle to find their true identity. The participants’ responses reveal that preserving their
Black identity constitutes a sine qua non for emotional stability and success in coping with
the vicissitudes of life. Knowing who one is and being comfortable with that knowledge are
crucial not only to charting a life-course, but also to overcoming societal barriers—
something to be achieved by refusing to accept definitions and limitations imposed by others.
In the context of educating African-Canadian students, the only guarantee of attaining
academic success lies in fostering a strong positive sense of identity, which can only be

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achieved by embracing and living African values—the one true antidote to racist images and
discourses that promote self-loathing.

5.7. Race as a Social Construct

In neoliberal discourse, race is deemed unimportant, its presence in the classroom a

source of needless tension and conflict. And, yet, while having no basis in science, it
continues to inform policy in the areas of education, immigration, and labour (Meekosha,
2006) wherein it determines the distribution of power and resources. In the context of public
education, multicultural scholars have sought to play down the role race plays in education—
and with some success—in order to divert attention from discourses framed around “socially
constructed [mis]representations of subjective identities” that signify White students as
“intelligent, diligent, and deserving people” vis-à-vis Black students as “simple, lazy, and
undeserving” (Tate, 1997, p. 200). Despite all the talk of racial equality, an “inferiority
paradigm” (Tate, 1997, p. 199) still informs debates on education, sometimes presenting
Black Canadians, either intentionally or inadvertently, as a burden on mainstream society and
Whiteness as a package of desirable attributes to be emulated (Allen, 1996; Calliste, 1996;
Dei et al., 1997; James, 2011; Kong, 1996; Roberts-Fiati, 1996).

According to Raby (2004), White denial that race is not a salient issue within the
public education system works to signify the deniers “as non-racist, yet with the consequence
of producing a White centre in which the dominant group becomes universal, and making the
current effects of race invisible: if we do not see race, then how can we see racism?” (p. 372).
According to Dei and Kempf (2011), not only does race matter, it remains a key factor in
determining to what school one is admitted and the resources made available for academic
enhancement. To determine to what degree race is important in the education of their
children, I posed the following questions to the participants:

Patrick: Should race take center stage, or become a component in the education of Black
children? If so, why?

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 Amma (Creative artist-educator): It’s has to be central, otherwise, how could the school
be Afrocentric? If race is made a component, then it's no different to sending our
children to a regular school with a course on Black history. I have heard people say
Afrocentric education is race-based. This statement infers that all other education are
not race-based; that the regular public school system isn't race-based. Of course, they
are and it is. They just don't say it out loud. The regular public school system is
designed by White people for White children; it came out of a White culture and their
area of the planet and it has stayed with them regardless of where they go! . . . The
public education system is race-based. . . . White people don’t come out and say the
public education is race-based because it's very important to them to have other folks
come into their system and try to adopt it as their own because they—White people
collectively—have always had the advantage in a school system designed by and for
them. This confuses the global majority who buy into the hype and try to assimilate.
. . . White supremacy is all about controlling. If you can control the way people think,
then you don't even have to worry about putting chains on them. After folks of colour
attend White schools without oppositional education, the majority come out thinking
in a way that does not look after their best interest. They seek approval from White
society and cater to the collective needs of White people because that’s what they’re
taught in the White school system, which presents itself as race-neutral leaving the
structures of White hegemony intact. This is why Afrocentric schools are dangerous.
Of course, [laughter] it's race-based. Of course, it is, and I don't have a problem
saying so.

For Amma, race is a salient feature of the Afrocentric canon, and appropriately so
given its importance to the education of African-Canadian students. By privileging race,
instead of relegating it to a peripheral position, educators can teach Black students about
themselves and their heritage as a people with a long history in Canada whose forebears
contributed to building this country. I gather from Amma's comments that, far from being
race-neutral, mainstream education, which purports to be universal, inclusive and
colourblind, works to preserve White power and privilege even as it conceals them—in effect
dominating others through the medium of education. To subvert White domination in the
sphere of education requires, or so Amma believes, highlighting race as a means both of
grounding Black students in their identity and heritage and making education meaningful.
This approach would open up a space in which to teach students about the Black Canadian
experience and Africa’s place in the world by featuring people of African descent in African-
centred narratives that showcase their contributions to world civilization. Thus will Black
students no longer view themselves as a people on the periphery, a people to whom
civilization was bestowed as an “honorary gift.”

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 Jennifer (Teacher-curriculum consultant): Yes [it is should take centre stage] . . . Race is
something [Black students] deal with; sometimes, they can name it, and sometimes
they can't. . . . I think we would be doing a disservice to our young people if we
disregard that race exists . . . [Racism] affects them in a number of ways; it
marginalizes and excludes Black narratives in the curriculum thereby impacting on
educational outcomes. Also, there's a disproportionate number of Black students in
special education who have been diagnosed with learning disabilities with some
informally labeled.

Teaching young African-Canadian students about race in education is akin to bearing

witness to the African-Canadian experience. Denying that race exists or plays no role in
mediating the experience of African-Canadians, as some allege, is to erase African-
Canadians and the Pan-African family from the country’s history—in effect, denying Black
people the right to know their history and all that has sustained, and continues to sustain,
them in their struggles. In the context of the public education system, racism informs policies
that work to the disadvantage of Black students, e.g., streaming and suspension, and that are
partly responsible for their negative perceptions of school and education. It is precisely these
perceptions that account to no small extent for the grinding poverty and youth violence
plaguing African-Canadian communities.

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): Race has taken centre stage in the education system. The
people who control the education system and the politics behind it have pushed race
to the centre stage. They frame the narratives around race because we live in a White
supremacist society organized by Caucasians to suit their political and economic
[interests]. As marginalized people, we are forced to deal with the issue of race and
racism against our community by creating institutions and safe zones where African
children can be educated . . . The Africentric Alternative School is an important
example of decades of struggles . . . to ensure that our children have a safe space . . .
to learn about their history . . . because the mainstream school system is racist; it
glorifies European history, values and contribution.

Titina Silla historicizes race by explicating how it was constructed and imposed upon
Blacks with a view to promoting European superiority. She appears to suggest that race can
be turned to the advantage of the Black community by using it to spur collective action aimed
at building institutions capable of confronting White supremacy. I also infer from her
comments that in the context of education race can be used in a positive way to inculcate in
Black students an appreciation of who they are and where they come from and to contest

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Eurocentric narratives of Black Canadians and the Pan-African family. This in turn will
enhance their self-esteem, a first step along the path to empowerment.

The suggestion by some of the participants that race take centre stage in the education
of Black students, ignoring Africa’s multiple identities, histories and cultures, shifts the focus
onto how TAAS strikes a balance between race-based and culturally responsive education.
Gay (2002) defines “cultural responsive [education] as:

[an educational model that uses] the cultural characteristics, experiences, and
perspectives of ethnically diverse students as conduits for teaching them more
effectively. It is based on the assumption that when academic knowledge and
skills are situated within the lived experiences and frames of reference of
students, they are more personally meaningful, have higher interest appeal,
and are learned more easily and thoroughly. (p. 107)

In light of Africa’s many disparate cultures and identities, one is compelled to

question whether Afrocentric teachers possess the requisite training and resources to take into
account students’ diverse experiences, cultures and histories, beyond the(ir) constricted
notion of what it means to be African or African-Canadian. Focusing preponderantly on
race, or on a handful of Africa’s cultures, poses a pedagogical dilemma, with respect to
deciding whose histories and cultures are to be foregrounded and how best to placate those
students whose histories and cultures are sidetracked or ignored altogether. Failure to adopt
a culturally responsive curriculum and pedagogy, both of which are central to the intellectual
development of Afrocentric students, could very well lead, I would argue, to dissipating even
further any interest students might have in education, which is ironic on two accounts: first,
TAAS was founded with a view to engaging students in the learning process; second, the
school’s supporters routinely criticize mainstream public education for failing in this respect.

In "Speaking up" and "speaking out": Examining "voice" in a reading/writing

program with adolescent African Caribbean girls" Henry (1998) cites an important issue that
has bedeviled Afrocentric scholarship: the all-pervasive silence on social class, gender and
sexuality. Despite ample evidence that Black girls "naturally do well" academically (Hale as
cited in Henry, 1998, p. 238), Henry notes that "a range of research shows that Black girls are

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expected to adopt . . . roles of passivity . . . ; they are invisible to teachers as serious learners;
they receive less encouragement and rewards; they are assessed for their social skills rather
than academic achievement; they are evaluated by their physical characteristics such as hair
texture and skin color; [and] . . . are considered sex objects as they mature” (Henry, 1998, p.
238). Elaborating on the failure of TAAS and AE in this regard, Allen (2010) asserts that
efforts to correct inequity in education:

has drawn our attention away from looking at issues that will help to move the
discussion forward. . . . We have fallen asleep or become distracted [such] that
we have lost sight of some of the key anti-racism principles that should be
used to continue to support the development and evaluate the effectiveness of
an Afrocentric program. . . . (p. 328)

. . . [Anti-racism] is more complex than just focusing on discourses of

race alone. . . . (p. 330)

. . . Unless we consider the interrelated effects of race, gender, social class

and sexuality, the well-intentioned model of the Afrocentric curriculum within
the Africentric Alternative School may at times still be in conflict with the
needs and concerns of students, teachers, administrators and
parents/communities. . . . (p. 331)

It should be pointed out that while some of the teachers at TAAS self-identify as
Black, their privileged backgrounds preclude their understanding the struggles that the
school's largely marginalized students undergo daily. Instructing students about race, while
ignoring other sites of oppression—social class, gender and sexuality—falls short of
addressing problem areas that critics of the public school system view as responsible, at least
in part, for the underperformance of African-Canadian students.

Some participants balked at the notion of making race AE’s principal focus.

Shaka (Office manager): Race does not have to take centre stage in Afrocentric
education. What needs to take centre stage is the fullness of history. [Afrocentric]
education must foster inclusion, not exclusion; it's should about capturing the
[missing] pages, chapters and volumes of history . . . Afrocentric education . . .
should not focus solely on race.

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 While not dismissing its importance, Shaka believes race should not take centre stage
in the education of Black students. His comments underscore a sensitivity on the part of
Black parents about making race the primary focus of AE owing to, I assume, the fear that
this approach would mean ignoring other educational goals, e.g., acquiring the knowledge
and skills to compete in the job market. The reality is that as a holistic educational model, AE
holds knowledge of race to be on an equal footing with other forms of knowledge.

Mary (Social worker): Given the fact that Canada is a multicultural country, making race
a central part of Afrocentric education would raise concerns. Personally, I think race
should be a big part of Afrocentric education. However, it should be done in a way to
placate the public. The curriculum should be to broaden to make it inclusive. . . .
Making race the primary focus of Afrocentric education would conjure negative
connotations.

Mary was ambivalent and guarded in her view that race should take centre stage in
the education of Black students. Her cautious response points to the trepidation with which
the Black community regards race, particularly when it is perceived as pitting Blacks against
Whites. In light of Canada’s dogged persistence in presenting itself as a multicultural and
inclusive country, Blacks appear to be wary of defending Blackness. Mary's suggestion that
AE frames race to "appease the masses" speaks to the power of this image—some might call
it a myth. To the extent that they internalize such ‘myths’, Blacks will conform to dominant
expectations and keep the peace. Like Mary, Zindzi has mixed feelings about race taking
centre stage in the education of African-Canadian students.

Zindzi (Nurse): I think race should be a component [and not take centre stage] of
Afrocentric education. We don't want everything about Afrocentric education to focus
on race because that's when the problem arises. . . . If we make race and Black
history mandatory in schools, it will bring awareness to everyone and not just Black
students. Even though we have Toronto’s first Afrocentric School, not all Black
children will be to attending the school . . . Canada is a multicultural country and I
don't think race should take centre stage in the education of Black children . . . How
would Black students be able to work with their White counterparts or mingle with
the other races? . . . They are also going to feel superior . . . because they [will] feel
their race is dominant than the other race . . . How're we going to move forward, as a
society and as a people, if all we hear is . . . that White people dominate us [Black
people]; they bring us down . . . and therefore let’s stand our ground. Yes, we can
stand our ground and educate them too.

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 While supporting TAAS and AE, Zindzi finds both limiting in that no effort has been
made to reach out to students of other races who may find the latter of interest. Zindzi’s
major concern, one that is reflected in the literature, is that there are no plans afoot to make
African-centred courses available in the regular school system, a prerequisite for raising
public awareness. Only the Cardinal Ambrozic Catholic Secondary School offers a course on
African history which focuses on Africa’s contribution to world civilization (Belgrave,
2013). Her comments are also consistent with the argument advanced by critics of the school
that enrolling students on the basis of race and instilling in them a sense of African pride
could morph into cultural nationalism and Black sectarianism, along with the rejection of
everything White as a threat to African-Canadian autonomy and development. While AE is
important, Zindzi opines that it should open up to non-Black students and ideas in light of the
fact that the graduates of AE schools will, at some point in their lives, have to work with
Whites in a multicultural setting where White values are dominant. Like Mary’s, Zindzi’s
comments are predicated on multiculturalism and grounded in the belief that those who reject
multicultural values, however problematic they may be, will miss out on the opportunities
Canada has to offer.

Notwithstanding the supposition that race has no significance in the context of

Canadian education, it continues to mediate the lived experience of Black parents and their
school-age children. Whereas some participants emphasize the importance of race in
education and reject the notion of ignoring it in order to placate the dominant public, others
view it as divisive and unnecessary. Zindzi argues that placing race centre stage could foster
racial prejudice, along with a wholesale rejection of anything critical of African history and
knowledge systems. This would almost certainly result in the failure of Black students to
acquire the requisite knowledge and skills for building careers. Though disparate, these
views highlight the participants’ uncompromising commitment to the success of African-
Canadian students; what is lacking is a comprehensive approach to addressing their
underperformance in the classroom. What emerges from these interviews is a sense that
TAAS and AE are very much works in progress that will only succeed with the full support
of the Black community and other stakeholders. Chapter 6 discusses the research findings,

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specifically those pertaining to the parents’ involvement with TAAS and their views on AE
as well as the perceived benefits accruing from, and challenges posed by, both, in terms of
opportunities and barriers, respectively.

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Chapter 6.

Afrocentric School and Afrocentric Education:

The Possibilities and Challenges

This chapter is the second of two that report and discuss the findings from the
empirical study. It examines the participants’ engagement with the Toronto Africentric
Alternative School (TAAS) in particular and Afrocentric education (AE) in general. Also
examined are the benefits and challenges posed by AE vis-à-vis public education. While
some participants support AE and TAAS unequivocally, they are fully cognizant of the
constraints imposed by AE and the challenges confronting the school. Their disparate
perceptions of AE and TAAS, moreover, underscore the divisions existing among African-
Canadian parents and the Black community as a whole, pointing to the need for further
studies and public debate on educational reform aimed at addressing the underperformance of
Black students. The research participants’ views were also supplemented with articles, op-ed
pieces and excerpts from reports prepared by the TDSB that appeared in 53 major Canadian
newspapers and magazine articles.

6.1. The Toronto Africentric Alternative School and the

(Mis)Education of Black Students

TAAS has been described by critics as a segregationist project that is antithetical to

Canadian values as well as an obstacle to building an inclusive society (Lund, 1998). For
proponents, the school and its educational model stand as a testament to the commitment on
the part of Toronto’s African-Canadian community to making education meaningful for
marginalized African-Canadian students and to achieving equity in the classroom. With both
sides deeply divided, perhaps the best qualified to address these issues are African-Canadian
parents themselves.

Patrick: How do you feel about Black children attending a school that is predominantly
Black and taking courses focusing predominantly on Black people and Black culture?

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 Amma (Creative artist-educator): [Laughter]. I don't have a problem with it because I am
just a little farther along in my healing. There's a high level of self-hatred amongst
Black people. Most of us don't even recognize it; most of us haven't even started
asking ourselves the deep questions. We run away from them. We’ve had a White
mind put into our heads and so we look at things from a White perspective. . . . A lot
of people who're against Afrocentric education are woefully ignorant of the breadth of
Black involvement in civilization. When you say to them, we're going to make sure
that the focus of Black education should be on Black contribution to civilization, all
they can think of is slavery and, maybe, the Underground Railroad . . . They do not
know that mathematics came from the Nile Valley civilization; they have no idea that
nascent European philosophers sat at the feet of African scholars; they do not know
about African kingdoms and nations. . . . I still run into Black people who do not
know that the ancient Egyptians were Africans and . . . Afrocentric education is
actually restoring us. A lot of people think that it's either rewriting history or is just
making things up, and consequently, Black kids are going to be at a disadvantage
from an Afrocentric education . . . Up until the enslavement industry started,
European scholars didn't have a problem admitting that civilization started with Black
people and that all these people who they elevated to great heights (e.g., Herodotus,
Pythagoras) learned at the feet of African scholars. But you can see where, as a
justification for continuing enslavement, our contributions were either omitted from
subsequent editions of different books, or, if they could not actually get rid of our
presence, as for example they can't get rid of the pyramids, what they did is, they
made the appearance of the ancient Egyptians no longer Black to get rid of Black
contribution to civilization. . . . And so, Afrocentric education which returns this
knowledge to us is actually aiding in our restoration to our proper place. It's not
something made up, it's not something twisted, it's not a revisionist approach. But,
again, their own ignorance stops them from really understanding that.

Amma's comments make no reference to TAAS as a segregated project. It may be

inferred that she views the school and the education it provides in a positive light. Indeed, she
sees the school as a necessity, as a firewall against the harm Eurocentric education inflicts
upon young African minds. TAAS helps African-Canadian students to deal with the past in
an honest and forthright fashion and to broach topics often considered uncomfortable by the
mainstream public, e.g., the past mistreatment of African-Canadians, the revision and/or
omission of the African-Canadian presence in Canada. Amma views TAAS as nothing less
than a crusade to reclaim what has been lost or denied African-Canadians and particularly
Black students.

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): I think it is an absolute necessity. It will help heal the
trauma in the African community; a trauma from living in a White supremacist

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 society that has indoctrinated us with White values and an education system that has
taught us a lot of lies. . . . I remember growing up in this society. What I was taught in
school about African people is that they were slaves. The truth of the matter is that
long before the period of enslavement, which lasted about 500 years, Africans had
built civilizations that go back thousands of years . . . There is this whole world of
information that we have not been taught. So, I think a school that focuses on Black
history, Black culture and Black people is an absolute necessity to help us heal from
the lies about who we really are . . . I am an extremely proud of the school . . . It has
some very good teachers and it’s had some challenges like other schools do

Like Amma, Titina Silla views TAAS and the education it provides as a corrective to
the 'miseducation' of Black students and to European narratives that have erased or distorted
African history to the point where accounts of the genius and contributions of its disparate
peoples have been lost or, at best, buried in dusty archives. Once apprised of this knowledge,
African-Canadian students will then be in a position to cultivate confidence and to learn
about their heritage.

Ananse (Food justice manger): I feel great about it. I think the Black community has been
oppressed for too long by the educational system. If public education wants to take a
step in the direction of having culturally-focused schools or racially focused schools,
then these schools should be allowed to teach curricula that focus on these
communities. It is critical for the Afrocentric School to have curricula that are
particular to the African culture; . . . it's not just the child going to school, their
parents come to school with them. These children go home and share knowledge with
their parents; parents who probably have been educated in the colonial school system
. . . and who look up to their children for new information. I've seen it, time and time
again, when grandparents will come [to my school] and want to know more about the
materials that the child is learning at school.

An enthusiastic supporter of TAAS, Ananse views the school as a corrective to a

system of colonial education that has proved to be instrumental in oppressing Black people.
An Afrocentric curriculum, she believes, holds the key to creating an educational experience
that meets the needs of Black students and their communities. She is also aware that AE has
the potential to educate and empower not only students but also other family members as the
latter come to imbibe the former’s new-found knowledge, which in turn stimulates their
intellectual curiosity. The participants’ perception of AE as a remedy for the achievement
gap in the public education system is consistent with the literature.

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 In the local news media, there is further evidence of how TAAS enjoys strong support
among some Black parents comprising Toronto’s Black community. Michelle Frances
whose 6-year-old daughter Ella attends TAAS counts herself as an enthusiastic supporter of
the school: "Ella is getting a strong foundation [in her African heritage]" (as cited in Ferenc,
2013, para. 15). Frances rejects the notion that TAAS is a vehicle for segregation. She sees
the school as an opportunity for students to learn about themselves and their heritage; and she
believes her daughter shares this view. "Everybody wants that for their children" (para. 16).
For Maryann Scott, another parent of a child enrolled at TAAS, an Afrocentric education is
crucial to the intellectual development of Black children, particularly during the early
formative years, as it provides them, and especially boys, with appropriate role models. She
believes that the 40% dropout rate among African-Canadian students could be significantly
lowered were they to learn under the tutelage of authority figures who are capable of building
trust and who understand their culture, their sensibilities and their travails. According to
Scott:

It's important for children to see positive role models who look like them, but
unfortunately at the TDSB they don't have enough. If you look at the 40% dropout
rate among Blacks, especially males, . . . it's important to have these role models
before high school (as cited in Brown, 2008, para. 12).

Tiffany Shelton, a Toronto high school teacher, who is presumably aware of the
problems attending the regular school system—low teacher expectations for African-
Canadians, high suspension and dropout rates—expressed an interest in enrolling her
daughter Nala in the Afrocentric kindergarten so that she might learn about her Caribbean
heritage. Notwithstanding the considerable distance separating her home in Malton in the
Peel Region and the school, which is located in Toronto, she is willing to make the commute,
thus demonstrating the commitment of at least some African-Canadian parents to addressing
the educational needs of their children. In her view: “[M]any schools don't set high
expectations for Black students in terms of behaviour and achievement, and I think that it's
important [to enroll my daughter in a school] that values her culture and affirms her heritage”
(Shelton as cited in Brown, 2008, para. 20).

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 Given the educational benefits TAAS has to offer Black children, Kevin Erskine
believes "it will be worth the drive from Brampton if his son, Jabari, gets an education that
includes learning about his heritage" (as cited in DeMara, 2009, para. 1). Observes Erskine:

[AE] is very important. Jabari is a young African boy right now and he's going
to grow up to be a young African man, and it's important that he knows his
roots and history. As it's been said before, you don't know where you're going
if you don't know where you've been. I want him to know things [about] Black
inventors throughout history . . . and all the achievements of our people. (para.
2-3)

Like Kevin Erskine, Kristen McKinnon is "consider[ing] the extra-long commute for
her son. I'm a single mother of a biracial son, and he doesn't have a lot of strong Black role
models. This might be a perfect environment" (as cited in DeMara, 2009, para. 9). Like the
supporters of TAAS, most of whom have first-hand experience of a highly flawed public
education system, Kristen understands how crucial appropriate role models are to the healthy
development of Black children, and especially boys, growing up in a racist society whose
expectations for them are so low.

Few TAAS students report anything other than positive results stemming from their
educational experiences. Following his first day at the school, Jahbril, a Grade 5 student,
was evidently pleased with the curriculum: "We learned the seven principles of Kwanza,
which is an African holiday that's almost a version of Christmas" (as cited in Brown, 2009,
para. 12). His experience appears to support one of AE’s principal hypotheses: that of a
positive relation existing between culturally relevant learning materials and academic
achievement.

Notwithstanding the support it enjoys, TAAS is not short of critics.

Ouzy (Senior manager-banker): I don’t like [the idea] . . . When you are . . . trying to
build a company, you need confidence. You do not have to always think of 'oh! this is
who I am, this is where I come from, [or] I am an African. . . . I think the students
should go to [integrated] schools. They should . . . learn to connect with other
students their age. Canada is not a Black country. We should not teach our children
how to rule Black kids only; we should teach them to rule Canada. They should be
taught at a young age to socialize with other Canadian kids . . . How can they achieve

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 this by attending a school with only their own kind? I think Black children should
focus more on self-confidence and focus less on [their heritage]. You can be among
White people and learn what they know. If you look at the CEO [Chief Executive
Officer] of Facebook, [Mark Zuckerberg], for example, he is a White guy. I don’t
believe for a moment he thought of his race when he built Facebook. . . . You can be
among White people, and [learn]. If I am among White people talking about hockey,
which is not an African sport, I can join in the conversation to prove to them [that] I
am better informed about what they are discussing. I think this would make me look
confident [in their eyes] . . . While I believe in my culture and in my African values,
. . . what we need to teach our children, besides Afrocentric education, are skills and
not their ancestral connections.

Ouzy seems to be inferring that TAAS and AE cannot provide the type of education Black
students require if they are to play a meaningful role in the broader society. He appears to be
suggesting that multicultural education, by default, offers Black students unhindered access
to cultural capital, an assumption Lewis (2009) rejects utterly.

Ouzy dismisses the link between an awareness of race and one’s heritage and the
ability to seize economic opportunities. He believes building a career depends on merit, not
on how one views such matters. From his comments one can infer that he believes that for
Black people to succeed, they ‘must pull themselves up by their boot straps.’ His view of
how one goes about becoming successful discounts the challenges Black families and
students face on a daily basis. Ouzy’s comments highlight a key misconception, namely that
TAAS neglects to teach students how to be "business [smart],” in other words that the school
fails to provide students with the “academic credentials, professional skills, and appropriate
language to participate in the technological and [corporate] domains” of society (Ogbu,
1995a, p. 191). While Ouzy proposes an alternative to TAAS and AE, specifically an
academic program that prioritizes learning business skills and inculcating self-confidence
over fostering racial pride, his prescription ignores the reality of being Black in a White-
dominated society, where, albeit every Canadian possesses the same economic rights by law,
securing a job is often subject to the politics, however subtle, of race, class, gender, and
sexuality.

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 As McIntosh (1986) notes, “her skin colour [i.e., White] was an asset for any move
[she] was educated to [pursue]” (p. 7). And though Ouzy plays down the importance of race,
his commentary suggests Black people are under a constant burden to prove themselves to
Whites. It is for this reason, he asserts, that Black parents enjoin their children to work “twice
as [hard in school] to go half [as] far” (Fordham & Ogbu, 1986, p. 177), which suggests that
race does, indeed, pose a constraint on Black people seeking to compete with Whites in the
job market and in the economy as a whole. Ouzy’s comment that a Black person must prove
himself or herself to a White person, has its origin, according to Fanon (1967), in the
“inferiority complex that has been created by the death and burial of [Africa’s] cultural
originality” (p. 18). The oppressed, in his bid to become White, at least on the inside, and to
feel desired and accepted by the dominant other, assimilates and exhibits White values, in the
process “renounce[ing] his Blackness” (p. 18).

Ouzy fails to acknowledge the normativity of Whiteness and the privileges and power
it accords Whites vis-à-vis Blacks. From his comments, one gathers that Whiteness, given its
supremacy in all areas of life, places little or no burden on Whites whose institutions and
policies are crafted to perpetuate their dominance. McIntosh (1986) speaks to White
privilege, which she describes as an “invisible package of unearned assets that [she] can
count on cashing . . . each day” (p. 1). She writes that from birth to adulthood, Whites who
are privileged are taught by society and the public education system “to think of their lives as
morally neutral, normative, and average, and also ideal” (p. 3), something her Black “co-
workers, friends, and acquaintances . . . cannot count on” (p. 3). According to McIntosh,
“many doors open for [most Whites] through no virtue of their own” (p. 6).

Critiques of TAAS and AE cut across the board. Many politicians, school pundits and
Black parents, along with large segments of the public, question both the practicality and the
need for educational initiatives of this kind. For the skeptical, the thought of creating a
school predominantly for African-Canadian students smacks of racism and segregation;

Asked in February 2008 whether the province of Ontario should fund the Afrocentric
School, former premier Dalton McGuinty had this to say:

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 We believe it's a matter of principle, that the single most important thing we
can do for our kids is bring them together so they have an opportunity to come
to know one another, to understand one another and to learn together and
grow together. We think that's the foundation for a caring, cohesive society.
. . . There have been some changes made to the curriculum in the past, and if
we need to strengthen that further to ensure that it is truly inclusive, then let's
have that dialogue. And let's do it in a way that ensures kids continue to come
together and share the same classrooms. (as cited in Leslie, 2008, para 1-5)

While implying that TAAS would segregate students along racial and cultural lines,
Premier McGuinty ignores the inconvenient fact that its admissions policy is far more
inclusive than those pertaining at Catholic or Jewish or gender-based schools. That one of the
“primary objectives of a Catholic education lies in “. . . teach[ing] children to think, judge,
and act consistently in accordance with the example and teaching of [Jesus] Christ”
(McLaren, 1986, p. 50) is also ignored. In implicitly denigrating TAAS on the basis a
sectarianism, while turning a blind eye to its existence in denominational schools, the
premier is, one might argue, playing to his constituency and support base by inferring that he
will in no way countenance any educational initiative that might contest the dominant order’s
hegemonic position.

John Tory, the Progressive Conservative opposition leader, sought to pre-empt TAAS
and AE by “changing the curriculum to make it more inclusive" (as cited in Leslie, 2008,
para. 11). According to Tory:

The best solution for all students with special needs, including in particular
Black students, would be changes that took place and would be available in
every school for all kids. . . . What we should be doing here is really looking
at the best tools we can use most effectively and fast to help all students with
special needs, including students in the Black community, to do better and to
stay in school longer. (para. 12-14)

What Tory's remarks reveal is a tendency on the part of critics of TAAS and AE to conflate
problems that are unique to African-Canadian students and “students with special needs.”
The term “special needs,” moreover, signifies a clinical disability, thus diverting attention
from the marginalized and subordinated position Black students occupy, which accounts in
large measure for their poor academic performance. And like so many critics of TAAS and

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AE, Tory offers a “solution” that falls short of a comprehensive strategy for realizing the goal
of making underperforming students "do better and . . . stay in school longer" (Leslie, 2008,
para. 14).

The parallels between Catholic schools and TAAS, though striking, go largely
ignored. Those who advocate on behalf of the former, as McLaren (1986) points out, “do not
feel that a religion lesson at the end or the beginning of the day in non-Catholic schools
would be sufficient to ensure that Catholic children are properly prepared in their religion”
(p. 50). This explains why candidates for teaching positions at Catholic schools are required
to be “Christians, academically and professionally qualified . . . with a Christian
consciousness about themselves, a Christian sense of community, a Christian purpose and a
common Christian life, [a set of criteria that] give the Catholic School [a] distinctively
Christian character” (McLaren, 1986, p. 50). If it is acceptable for Catholic and other
denominational schools to have in place hiring policies aimed at facilitating their goals,
educational and otherwise, then surely the same holds for TAAS. For proponents, the
educational needs of Black students are better served by a school that privileges an African
knowledge system that connects them to their heritage and employs teachers who share the
Black experience, understand the specific challenges confronting their charges, and are
“academically and professionally qualified” (McLaren, 1986, p. 50) to help them succeed
using an alternative model of learning.

In an article appearing in the December 15, 2008 edition of the Toronto Star, under
the headline "Integration not isolation needed," Robert Hollingsworth of Peterborough stated:

I was very relieved when reading of the apparent lack of enthusiasm for the
Afrocentric school. . . . The establishment of such a school will do nothing to
enhance human relationships within the city. It will serve to intensify the
isolation that is already in existence. Studies of such centres have found that,
rather than being centres for education, they become centres of indoctrination.
We, the people from visible minorities, have immigrated to Canada and desire
to be part of the melting pot in order to be part of the whole. We do not need
encouragement for isolation. Parents who have emigrated from their homeland
of Africa have the opportunity to discuss with their children their ethnic
progression. Our responsibility as citizens of this "glorious and free" country

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 of Canada is to seek to make a contribution, not seek to isolate behind walls of
ethnicity. Canada is our home and we should be seeking to know more about
our new home, so we can make a contribution based on knowledge. We are
Canadians, eh! I would be very disappointed if this school does in fact become
a reality. (as cited in Wallace, 2008, para. 1-5)

While reflecting mainstream opinion, Hollingsworth's views can hardly be said to be fact-
based. First, TAAS is not a centre; it is a school. Second, Hollingsworth presents no evidence
to support the claim that TAAS is a “centr[e] of indoctrination." Third, his description of
Canada as a “melting pot” belies its true nature, which is that of a cultural mosaic. His
contention that "visible minorities . . . migrated to be part of the melting pot” ignores the
historical fact that visible minorities, African-Canadians in particular, have a long history and
presence in Canada and have contributed significantly to making it "glorious and free."

In a December 15, 2008 op-ed piece Elka Ruth Enola of Oakville rebutted Toronto
Star columnist Royson James’ assertion that "it is Black folks who will wear the stigma of
failure" should the Afrocentric School fail to meet is enrolment quota. Enola states:

Black parents have shown good sense and clear insight into how our society
works. Isolating their children from the greater society will not help the
children learn how to survive successfully socially and economically. An
Afrocentric school does not help the non-Black segments of society
understand the Black experience. What is really needed are integrated secular
schools where all cultures are shared and valued. "Valued" is the key word.
What is needed are honest demographics of the student populations in each
school and a staff that reflects that. If every school were committed to the best
integration of students in the mainstream of Canadian society, we would not
need culturally defined schools. On our way to the perfect society, nothing
precludes the Black community from offering support programs for Black
students. An after-school program held three times a week during the lunch
period, after school, in the evening or on the weekend would provide a place
for students to bring their concerns and get appropriate constructive advice. I
have no problem with such a program being funded by the Black community,
the school board or the province. I would consider that an excellent use of my
taxes. Not that it should matter, but for the record, I am a retired White,
female teacher. (as cited in Wallace, 2008, para 6-12)

Enola seems to suggest integrative education as a solution calls for alternative education.
Enola's notion that an "after-school program held three times a week during the lunch period,

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after school, in the evening or on the weekend would provide a place for [African-Canadian]
students to bring their concerns and get appropriate constructive advice" (para. 10) smacks of
White paternalism, of White teachers advising Black students on how to deal with problems
of which they have no understanding. What her comments reveal is more than a modicum of
White comfort with the status quo and a lack of will and interest in calling for comprehensive
educational reforms that could pose a challenge to the dominant order.

As to their respective positions on TAAS and AE, the participants fall into two
camps, one consisting of staunch allies, the other of unremitting foes. The former view
TAAS, and by implication AE, as essential to educating African-Canadian students in that it
provides a learning environment free of racism and a curriculum to which they can relate,
while the latter regard both to be unnecessary and even harmful to the extent that they are
likely to fail to prepare Black students to live and work in a predominantly White society.
There exists among the majority of the participants a palpable fear that failure to increase
public awareness of TAAS and AE, and, more importantly, to make it accessible to non-
White students, will over the long term limit the life opportunities of TAAS graduates,
thereby defeating the primary object of the school, which is to train African-Canadian
students to become useful and forthright citizens of a multicultural nation. Among the
general public, support for TAAS is equally divided. While some, especially Afrocentric
parents, support the school, others see it as divisive and inconsistent with Canadian values,
such as inclusiveness. It should also be noted that the critics’ perception of TAAS is often
informed by their privileged location as well as their apprehension of what the school might
one day become.

6.2. Black Teachers:

The Foundation of Afrocentric Education

Beset by major challenges and pressure groups on all sides, Black teachers are, for the
most part, steadfastly committed to educating Black students (Winks, 1997). The majority of
the participants appear either to share this view or believe that by virtue of their

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understanding of African culture and societal racism, Black teachers are better equipped to
educate Black students. Black parents’ perception of Black teachers as allies in the cause of
educating Black students, moreover, is often conditioned by their experience with those
White teachers who have low expectations of Black students, often manifested in subtle
forms of racism (Dei et al; 1997; Raby, 2004; Roberts-Fiati, 1996). Amma and Abena share
their experience of racism in the classroom while citing TAAS and AE as a remedy.

Amma (Creative artist-educator): I had to pull my son out of Grade 4 from a French
Immersion . . . because of racism. . . . I found out that his teacher was not properly
correcting my son’s Mathematics and Science homework; she was giving him marks
that he did not deserve. . . . I spoke with her and made it clear that she mark my son’s
papers properly. She told me to my face, quite firmly, that the expectations I was
placing on him to do his homework was putting “undue pressure on him.” She told
me “Black people don't do well in Math and Science.” . . . This kind of situation is
unlikely to occur when students are in an environment where they are in the majority;
where the teachers [look] like them; where they want them to excel and encourage
them. The fact of the matter is, it's crazy for us to send our children to White schools
where White teachers are expected to raise them to compete with their own children
[laughter].

Amma appears to be suggesting that TAAS and AE eliminate, or at least minimize,

student marginalization. Given its African-Canadian culture and teaching staff, the school
would, one might expect, be more sensitive and attentive to the needs of students and treat
them with the respect they warrant. In addition, the presence of African-Canadian teachers
provides parents whose experience of White teachers has been less than satisfying the
assurance that they will be given an opportunity to discuss the needs of their children and that
these teachers view a collaborative partnership with parents to be crucial to a student’s
success. It is noteworthy that her son’s teacher attributed his poor performance to “undue
pressure” applied in the home and that she believed “Black people don’t do well in Math and
Science,” thus illustrating the low expectations White teachers have for Black students. As
Ng (1993) asserts, based on her personal experience with racism and sexism in institutions of
higher learning, the dominant order’s racist and sexist narratives of racialized Canadians are
“normalized [and] embedded in language. . . . These normalized ways of thinking (frequently
referred to as “stereotyping”) [she further argues,] have real and profound consequences for
people’s lives” (194).

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 Abena (Project manager): I recall trying to help my son with his homework. When I told
him his spelling was wrong. He replied, “my teacher says I don’t need to focus on
spelling right now. Instead, I should focus on content.”. . . As a parent, when . . .
your education is considered inadequate in Canada, you feel demoralized. Not only is
the public education system failing Black students, it is also failing them given the
kind of the education it provides them. . . . I visited the Afrocentric School out of
interest . . . I asked the parents what they thought of the school. They told me they
have never participated so much in any of the regular schools their children attended
than they have at the Afrocentric school. . . . [They said,] their primary reason for not
participating at the regular school was because they did not feel supported.

Abena’s experience speaks to the glaring deficiencies endemic to the public school
system and particularly to the lack of support provided Black parents, especially those with
ESL, who are doing their best to help their children with schoolwork. In striking contrast to
the indifference shown by the mainstream schools, TAAS, according to the Black parents to
whom she spoke, goes out of its way to support parents with regard to their participating in
all facets of school life, something that is essential if students are to achieve positive learning
outcomes.

Amma and Abena’s comments speak to the low expectations White teacher’s set for
Black students. As a number of studies have found (Dei et al., 1997; Lewis, 2009)
conservative, i.e., White, teachers are less inclined to help Black students with schoolwork,
which explains why the poorer students among them have such an alarming dropout rate.
While sharing their perceptions of Black teachers, the participants speculated that, given their
understanding of African culture, they are more likely to invest time and effort in educating
Black students whom they view as an extension of the Black family and/or the ‘African
Village.’

Amma (Creative artist-educator): I used to go by the school [TAAS], sometimes, 7:30 to

8 o'clock [in the evening], and the teachers were still there. They were committed to
help kids who had come from other schools where the staff had basically washed their
hands off them, told them that they were useless, and that they would never amount to
anything. The teachers took extra steps and extra time to work with them because
they believe that no child was refuse. . . . This non-Western approach takes a lot more
work. It requires a lot more of a commitment than the usual approach of just
siphoning so-called problem kids over into a special education classroom for the

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 rejects even though a lot of these kids were in that precarious position because of the
way they have been treated by the staff at schools they had formerly attended.
Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): I think the school . . . is very unique; the teachers go over
and beyond what is necessary from your typical 9-to-5 day at other public schools.
The level of engagement of many of the teachers is very high when it comes to the
children’s education. They often would make themselves available after school hours
to discuss concerns on a regular basis; they are accessible through email and, in some
cases, texting because they truly care about the education of the children and their
wellbeing. The calibre of teachers at the school is outstanding, and even those who
have moved on to other schools still enquire about how the children are doing; . . .
e.g., my son had a teacher, 2 years ago, who still enquires about his progress.
Goddess (Educator): . . . One thing I value about the school is seeing a teacher showing
affection to the children; she hugs and comforts them and this is vital to me as a
parent. At the school, I can also approach a teacher knowing he or she is sensitive to
the needs of, and is aware of challenges, our children face. The teachers go over and
above the call of duty for the school and the children and that speaks volumes. The
students will ultimately become great contributors to society and not feel any less
Canadian because they have been empowered and . . . have as much right as anyone
else to become the prime minister or anything they aspire to become.

Amma, Titina Silla and Goddess’ comments underscore the traditional role of the
African teacher as part surrogate parent, part guide to learning. For Titina Silla what is
unique about TAAS is the personal care, informed by compassion, lavished upon students, as
exemplified by the interest shown by a former TAAS teacher in her son’s progress. A close
and personal teacher-student relationship, Delpit (1988) argues, is critical to a student’s
success.

Amma, Titina Silla and Goddess’ enthusiasm for casting Black teachers in the role of
surrogate parents rests on the assumption that Black students are part of the proverbial
‘African village’ and that Black adults in general, and Black teachers in particular, have a
moral and “social responsibility” (Dei, 2008, p. 234) to ensure they succeed. In accord with
an Afrocentric ontology, Amma and Titina Silla view the success of the individual African
student to be contingent upon the support of the collective, i.e., the Black community (Dei,
1996b). Thus, their success will be impeded if the community, and in particular Black
teachers, withhold their support. Ouzy rejects this view. According to him, the
responsibilities of parenthood should fall directly on Black parents, not the community

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and/or the school. He believes it is difficult to help Black youth bent on self-destructive
behaviour, i.e., “smok[ing] [marijuana]” and have little or no respect for adults or their
counsel. Ouzy attributes this dysfunctional behaviour, in part, to poor parenting skills.

A number of studies have found the surrogate parenting role for teachers to be highly
problematic (Brockenborough, 2014; Sachs, 1985). For many critics, it smacks of a
missionary project, an unsolicited effort to save other people’s children. Moreover, along
with “restoring [students’] self-esteem and feelings of self-worth,” some teachers could also
be advancing their careers by, for example, earning the respect of “colleagues and
supervisors” as someone who students “[can] . . . trust . . . and thus [are] more likely to talk
to . . . in a way in which they might not [be] able to talk with other adults” (Sachs, 1985, p.
3). Nor can playing the role of surrogate parent to Black students solve the profound
problems besetting Black families, e.g., spousal conflict, divorce, single-parenthood, poor
housing, substandard education, unemployment, etc., none of which can be addressed by
school teachers.

Brockenbrough (2012) challenges the perception that “Black male teachers [are]
ready-made father figures for Black youth” (Brockenbrough, 2012, p. 366), a view that has a
decidedly sexist undertone in that it ignores the crucial role Black female teachers play in the
lives of Black students, especially with regard to mothering disadvantaged female students.
Brockenbrough challenges the assumption that by virtue of their race, and cultural
affiliations, Black male teachers are prone to take Black students, particularly boys, under
their wing.

In “‘You ain’t my daddy!’: Black male teachers and the politics of surrogate
fatherhood,” Brockenbrough (2012) contends that Black male teachers are less than
enthusiastic about playing the role of a surrogate parent, owing in large part to the challenges
and stereotypes that accompany it, e.g., having to assert one’s “hegemonic masculinity”
(Brockenbrough, 2012, p. 358) and “patriarchal power” (Brockenbrough, 2012, p. 359) when
dealing with recalcitrant Black students.

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 For most Black male teachers, surrogate parenting can be emotionally exhausting;
and this is especially the case given that so many Black students bear “emotional scars,” the
result of being raised in matriarchal households devoid of fathers. There is also the burden of
“extra-pedagogical responsibilities” to be borne. While, according to the majority of Black
male teachers, it is part of the “job description to raise [Black] children” (Brockenbrough,
2012, p. 364), most would rather keep “their distance from students [than build] . . . personal
connections . . . associated with [a] father figure role” (Brockenbrough, 2012, p. 363) that
could lead to “discipline-related confrontations” with male students, who play the “you’re
not my father” card, occasionally backed up by the “threat to subject [the teacher] to the
wrath of . . . the student’s actual father” (Brockenbrough, 2012, p. 367).

Brockenbrough (2012) views the role Black female teachers play in disciplining
Black students to be minimal. Of the 11 male participants, one, referred to here as ‘Bill,’
cited two female colleagues, a “teacher coach” and a “mentor teacher,” who urged him to
“adopt a firmer style of classroom management” (p. 364), in effect affirming the antediluvian
tradition wherein women perform at best a supporting role in enforcing discipline, whether in
the public or private sphere. By differentiating in this way, the role Black male teachers play
vis-à-vis their female counterparts, Bill and his two female colleagues work to naturalize
gender politics, in this case by casting Black male teachers in the role of indispensable
disciplinarian, a position to which no female teacher could hope to aspire.

The participants’ understanding of the benefits to be gained from the Black teacher-
student relationship was affirmed by Asante (Asante, 1991; Asante & Ravitch, 1991).
According to Asante (1991), placing Black students under the tutelage of Afrocentric
teachers precludes any possibility of their being taught to embrace Eurocentric ideas, which
would distort the African experience and devalue African achievements. Indeed, aware of
their pedagogical role and the need to commit fully to their students, Afrocentric teachers,
can be relied upon to ensure that their charges are capable intellectually of rejecting the
“badge of inferiority,” along with every insidious stereotype associated with “Blackness”
(Asante, 1991, p. 171). Writes Asante:

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 In Afrocentric educational settings, . . . teachers do not marginalize African
. . . children by causing them to question their own self-worth because their
people’s story is seldom told. By seeing themselves as the subjects rather than
the objects of education—be the discipline biology, medicine, literature, or
social studies—African . . . students come to see themselves not merely as
seekers of knowledge but as integral participants in it. Because all content
areas are adaptable to an Afrocentric approach, African . . . students can be
made to see themselves as centered in the reality of any discipline. (p. 171)

According to Delpit (1988), the mainstream education system reflects the values of
the dominant order. This claim imparts a sinister implication to the old cliché that “[we] want
the same thing for everyone else’s children as [we] want for [ours]” (Delpit, 1988, p. 285),
for surely here lies a rationale for postponing indefinitely educational reform. Yet, as Delpit
argues, Black students can only prosper within the context of a pedagogy that is innovative
and humanitarian, fosters respect for diverse views, and is sensitive to the learning needs of
minority students (Delpit, 1988). This is the kind of pedagogical model endorsed by Nadia
Hohn, a TAAS teacher, who “in the first year of the school, . . . spent $600 of her own
money to put books in her classroom to support the program that she wanted to teach”
(Armstrong, 2015, para. 25).

The participants’ comments also speak to the benefits accruing from the school-
parent partnership. All the participants believe, or at least seem to imply, that the presence of
Black teachers not only precludes, or at least minimizes, racism, but also helps to restore
Black parents’ confidence in the public education system. Responsibility for instructing
Black students fosters among some Black teachers a spirit of care that translates into their
investing their own time and resources in educating their charges. In this, they are motivated
by the knowledge that such investment is crucial to augmenting the human capital of the
extended ‘African Village’ and the Pan-African family, and in particular to ensuring that
their future leaders are prepared to take on challenges that are likely to be as formidable as
they are unprecedented.

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6.3. Black Parents as Educators

Among scholars, the underlying cause(s) of underperformance on the part of Black

students remains a controversial issue. While Dei et al., (1997) view the regular school
system and its Eurocentric educational model to be partly responsible, other scholars
disagree. Andrew Grogan-Kaylor of the University of Michigan writes:

So much of what goes into a student's grades [originates] outside the

schoolhouse. . . . Unless we deal with fundamental inequities, [we should] not
terrifically be confident that interventions targeted at a particular school are
going to be very helpful. (as cited in Lunau, 2008, para. 12)

While investigating factors pertaining to the academic success of Black students in Alberta,
Codjoe (2007) notes that “parental encouragement and a supportive home environment”
(p.142) play important roles in achieving student success. He also notes that Black cultural
identity and heritage is critical to attaining academic success (Codjoe, 2006). The question
below is framed around parental involvement in the education of children in both the home
and school and parents’ perception of the utility to be derived from sharing with their
children stories relating to their identity.

Patrick: How often do you share with your children stories relating to your identity, and
why is this important?
Ananse (Food justice manager): Every single day. I share stories of our heritage with my
children not necessarily through storytelling, but through our daily practices. In the
morning, my children pour a libation to our ancestors and the energies that guide our
everyday function. . . . It's important for me to make sure that they have a
conversation about how beautiful they are, who they are so that they are able to
manage their day-to-day activities. My children are in public school and they're
starting to get a lot of feedback about their hair, nose and lips. As a parent, I can step
back with pride because they know how to respond. They are confident and proud of
who they are. I make my culture part of . . . their day-to-day practice and not just
stories about who they are. We live in a culture that wants us to assimilate us, so it's
essential to share stories with your children all the time.

Ananse’s comments underscore the role Black families have come to play in their
children’s education. For her, that role is crucial to sustaining positive learning outcomes and
fostering positive self-images of Black children. Ananse appears to be suggesting that far

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from being passive spectators where their children’s education is concerned, Black parents
actively engage in the education process, e.g., through storytelling and rituals aimed at
teaching their children about their heritage and about the challenges they are likely to face
later in life. Her views are at variance with the public perception of Black parents as
indifferent to the educational needs of their children and, for this reason, less involved in
educating them. According to Ananse, home education can complement formal education by
inspiring Black students and arming them against internalized oppression.

Goddess (Educator): Yes, I story-tell and, probably, would need to do a whole lot more
[laughter]. Right now, my little one [boy] is too small for these stories. He has a short
attention span. My older one knows some of these stories. What’s interesting is that
not long ago, my [older] son told me that he had a horrifying experience at school,
which is one of the reasons why we fought so hard for the [Afrocentric] school.
We’re literally losing our children; our children were being pushed out of the school
system to prison . . .; they’re being denied their right to education and we know this is
part of a historical legacy. Our children internalize these conditions [oppression] and
start hating themselves, their parents and all things African. . . . What Black
children’s experience in the school system, for the most part, has been profoundly
destructive and is nothing short of terror. The education my eldest son was subjected
to has everything to do with his current circumstance in the ‘injustice’ system. What
I’ve seen is that many of us who made it through the educational system ended up
becoming Eurocentric and, as a result, became completely disconnected from the
aspirations of our community and its cultural values.

Goddess highlights one of the principal fears haunting African-Canadian parents:

losing a child to the system for want of an African-centred education. Deprived of the latter,
many African-Canadian children become alienated from their African roots. Her comments
underscore the importance of grounding children in African-centred philosophy through,
among other things, story-telling. The latter, in her view, offers a corrective to a public
education system that all too often turns African-Canadian children into ‘breakers of
mainstream laws’ and ‘suitable candidates for prosecution,’ as evinced by the
overrepresentation of African-Canadian youth in the juvenile penal system (Wortley, 2003;
Wortley & Owusu-Bempah, 2011).

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): Because of my level of awareness, . . . I am very collective

in my thinking. I share stories with my children about our African identity on a day-
to-day basis and they come in different forms. . . . At home, we have books that
reflect the African culture. . . . When my children step into our home, they see an

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 ‘African village’ around them. In our home, there are portraits of African women,
Kwame Nkrumah, Marcus Garvey and Amy Garvey. We have an ancestral table with
images of African heroes and 'sheroes' who have crossed over. There are many levels
to the issue of identity. [First,] I share my cultural identity with our children and my
children. [Second,] I also share with them the spiritual side of our identity as African
people; the way we worship the Creator and show reverence for our ancestors. So, in
answering your question, I share stories of our identity as African people with my
children every single day. They nourish their minds, empower them, increase their
self-esteem and their level of self-love not only for themselves, but for others who are
connected to the community. I constantly emphasize to my children that they are
individuals in the context of the African community not only in Canada, but globally.
That they are part of the Pan-African family so they have a clear understanding of
their identity.

Titina Silla views knowledge of Pan-Africanism to be crucial to maintaining the

emotional stability and fostering the intellectual autonomy of African-Canadian children.
Thinking in collective terms and educating her children about African heroes and ‘sheroes’
are for her ways to counter the individualism that lies at the heart of neoliberal-Eurocentric
education. Titina Silla, like many African-Canadian parents, seeks to situate her children in
the African struggle and experience and prepare them to follow in the footsteps of those who
have sought justice for an oppressed people and who have worked tirelessly to liberate the
African mind and the continent from the yoke of neocolonialism.

The participants challenge the popular perception that Black parents invest little time
and effort in their children’s education vis-à-vis “middle-and-upper-class families” (Davies
& Guppy, 2014, p. 46). Admittedly, this is often the case owing to their lack of education,
low socioeconomic status, and/or shiftwork, that for many preclude being available to
supervise or help with homework (Thompson, 1998). Despite these obstacles, not all Black
parents, according to the participants, are willing to relinquish responsibility for their
children’s education. Indeed, some assume the role of educators, imparting what knowledge
they possess as best they can.

A common theme running through all the responses is the importance to child
development of a home education that inculcates knowledge of the identity and formative
experiences of parents. While their approach to this kind of informal education may vary

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depending on what is deemed important to the future success of their children, the
participants all view it to be crucial to preparing them for a formal education and society that
assaults the history and dignity of African-Canadians. Contrary to the neoconservative
argument that African-Canadian parents put little or no effort into educating their children,
and should thus bear the blame for their underperformance in the classroom, it is apparent
from these responses that at least some Black parents, despite the constraints they are under,
are, in fact, devoted to educating their children. For them, home education is no casual
undertaking, but a commitment to fill in the gaps created by the public school system. Using
creative approaches to disseminating knowledge, and most notably storytelling, African-
Canadian parents seek to make school materials more meaningful and less offensive to their
children and to preserve the continuity of an African-Canadian identity and culture, which
they believe is crucial to preserving their dignity.

6.4. Afrocentric Education:

Instilling the Community’s Spirit in the African Child

The African sense of identity is derived from membership in a collective; it is the

values of the latter, moreover, that shape how the individual goes about perceiving and
ordering his or her world. Not surprisingly, Dei (2008) argues that “education must cultivate
a sense of community and social responsibility” (p. 349) in Black students. According to
Delpit (1988), there exists a correlation between a strong and cohesive community and
educational outcomes. Removing the community from participating in the education of Black
students, Delpit contends, poses serious problems, not the least of which is academic
underachievement.

It may be inferred from the participants’ comments that TAAS and AE continue to
play a decisive role in bringing the Black community together for the purpose of deliberating
upon ways and means to help Afrocentric students succeed. This relationship between
community and school has important benefits: first, it provides the school and students with
the assurance that they have the community’s support, which is manifested by, among things,

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work placements, the purpose of which is to provide TAAS students with the kind of
experience essential to competing in the job market following graduation. Second, having
members of the Black community speak at school assemblies offers students new
perspectives on the Black experience and on ways to move forward. The presence of the
Black community in the school, combined with the phenomenon of Black parents
participating in the decision-making process, is in itself empowering; it also creates a sense
of unity, along with a can-do spirit. What follows are the participants’ views on some of the
benefits accruing from the school’s community-oriented approach to education.

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): AE instills a sense of pride in our identity as African

people. It raises the self-esteem of our students so that they can achieve whatever they
set their minds to as long as they work hard. From a psychological point of view, it is
extremely important. AE creates a sense of unity in our community, for example,
various African organizations and individuals have come to the school to offer their
support, to check on the progress of the children, to play with them, to offer
extracurricular activities. . . . This is not just a theoretical unity, but a practical unity,
because our people can see the supportive mechanism we are providing the school
through individuals and organizations coming from the African community to help
the community. Afrocentric education is important to Black students because it
elevates their status in the eyes . . . of other communities who see the school doing
well. . . . AE fosters a connection with other communities, whether it is the Chinese,
the Indian community, the European community. It builds a certain level of cohesion
and mutual respect.

Titina Silla regards AE as crucial to fostering consciousness among not only African-
Canadian students but the community at large. Success in implementing educational reforms
represents a signal achievement for the Black community as well as a sign of its cohesion; it
also provides inspiration as well as a model for other racialized groups. In the immediate
future, it may even promote inter-ethnic dialogue and cooperation aimed at bringing about
meaningful changes to public education.

Goddess (Educator): [AE] teaches Black students their role and purpose in the African
community. Self-knowledge [through Afrocentric education] connects them to the
greater African struggles we face as a people. We can count on them as warriors in
the struggle to create a better future for all Africans

According to Goddess, TAAS instills in students a sense of purpose as well as an

understanding of their role in the Black community. She contends that teaching Black

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students about their heritage is a way of enlisting them in the struggle to improve the lot of
all people of African descent. Goddess sees the individual African as a soldier fighting for
justice, not just for him or herself, but for the entire community.

Shaka (Office manager): The [Afrocentric] school provides community, parental

engagement and an ongoing dialogue on the education of Black children. The
policies and the curriculum are not crafted in a backroom somewhere, they are crafted
in the community

From Shaka’s perspective, TAAS is predicated upon a holistic educational model,

one that is appropriate for educating all students, regardless of race or ethnicity. As a
community-based learning institution, it engages African-Canadian parents by seeking their
views on how best to tailor education with a view to meeting a single overarching goal: the
education of young minds and bodies. This approach also serves to increase community
cohesion while building student confidence.

Kombozi (Mortgage broker): The Afrocentric School is a positive thing to me. I have
gone there many times and have met both principals. On both times, they encouraged
parents to come out and get involved. It is the one thing you always hear, time and
time again talked about, by the staff at the school. That they need parents to come to
the school and get involved, which is quite the opposite from what you hear at the
Eurocentric School.

Kombozi’s comments underscore a feature that is perhaps unique to TAAS: the

encouragement provided to Black parents to visit the school and become involved in the
educational process. Unlike the case in some mainstream schools where the school-parent
relationship is minimal, TAAS seeks to engage parents as well as the community in the life
of the school and vice versa. In other words, the school’s success and that of its students are
seen to be contingent upon the collective efforts of the proverbial 'African Village.' Herein
lies a vibrant example of how community action can uplift the oppressed.

The participants see TAAS and AE as a magnet drawing the Black community
together, with the school as the epicenter of Black fellowship. In contrast to the mainstream
public school system where input from disadvantaged parents is dismissed as unwarranted
interference (Dei et al., 1997), TAAS encourages Black parents and the community as a

208
whole to make their views known. The participants envision AE as a means of promoting
social cohesion, harmony and a sense of moral responsibility (Dei, 2008). In this schema,
competitiveness and individualism are to be eschewed, giving back to the community made
an imperative.

It has also been observed that TAAS has succeeded in fostering activism among
Black parents, whose experience of predominantly White schools has bolstered their resolve
to see it succeed. To cite but one of many examples, Rebeckah Price, a community worker
whose son attends the school, has been instrumental in organizing a "bus service to families
at a cost of about $275 per month" (as cited in Brown, 2009, para. 15).

6.5. Inclusive Curriculum:

Making Education Relevant to the African Child

One of the perennial complaints leveled against the mainstream public education
system is the lack of diversity in the curriculum, as evinced by the absence of Black
representations, in particular Black heroes and heroines. For critics of public education, this
constitutes one of the principal factors driving the achievement gap (Dei et al., 1997).
Apropos to this critique, I asked the participants what they thought of the Afrocentric
curriculum.

Shaka (Office Manager): Every chapter in the Afrocentric [curriculum] does not begin
with Africa; Europeans and the Chinese played a part in world history. The
[Afrocentric] education system will not work if it doesn’t prepare our children to
survive in the broader society. An Afrocentric curriculum must teach students in . . . a
meaningful way to compete.

Although a TAAS supporter, Shaka takes a more centrist approach to incorporating

race into education. Rather than privileging Black history and people, AE should be, in his
view, an inclusive and non-hegemonic form of education that acknowledges non-African
contributions to civilization. For Shaka, I assume, incorporating different perspectives into
the learning process does not mean abandoning one’s Black heritage or undermining its
centrality to the education of Afrocentric students; rather, what incorporating alternative

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knowledge systems and perspectives promises to achieve is a broadening of the intellectual
horizons of Black students, a sine qua non for identifying and evaluating the contributions of
every Canadian, regardless of race, ethnicity and culture. Shaka's response speaks to the
popular perception of TAAS and AE as anti-White and/or anti-mainstream. In his view, or
so I gather, AE is neither a vehicle for a reconstituted Black supremacy nor a substitute for
Eurocentric education, which certain Black parents allege nullifies African knowledge
systems and Black contribution to civilization. Rather, AE, as opposed to Eurocentric
educational models, tolerates different perspectives, including those that are Eurocentric. As
Asante (1993) points out “Afrocentric [education] is one among many [formats of
educational models] and . . . seeks no advantage, no self-aggrandizement, and no hegemony
[over other knowledge systems]” (as cited in Schreiber, 2004, p. 657). Furthermore, “[it] is
not a Black version of Eurocentricity [emphasis in original]” (Asante, 1991, p. 171).

Jennifer (Teacher–curriculum consultant): [Inclusive curriculum] is important in terms of

[the intellectual] development of the students. A young person told me that in one
particular class where they were covering Loyalist settlers in Canada, he asked if the
teacher could cover the one Black Loyalist in the textbook, because it was something
that he connected with and wanted to learn more about. The teacher responded there
wasn’t enough time to cover it. The teacher covered the profiles of the other Loyalists
with the exception of the profile of the Black Loyalist the student was interested in
. . . . Could you imagine how this young person felt? This happens in the public
school system and I think it happens too often with [Black students]. As a
consequence, they become disengaged feeling that they are not learning anything
about their people and themselves in the curriculum. This [particular episode] could
have far-reaching consequences, for example, the student won't care about doing an
assignment on Loyalist settlers. He’ll do a poor job and get poor grades. . . . He would
be put in the applied stream versus the academic stream eliminating the possibility of
attending university.

Jennifer's account is revealing in that it speaks to the implications of the Black

student disaffection that is so pervasive in the public school system. In her view, AE provides
a remedy in the form of course materials specifically tailored to engage the interest and meet
the educational needs of African-Canadian students, especially those most marginalized.
Thus will students be motivated to work harder and more diligently as well as participate
more fully in classroom activities, particularly discussion groups. According to Jennifer,

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framing education around the interests of Black students is crucial to stimulating an interest
in learning, without which positive educational outcomes cannot be attained.

Ananse (Food justice manager): Because the current education system is disconnected
from who we are as a people, Black youth come into the education system with little
interest. . . . Stimulating pride in the youth can create a complete turnaround in terms
of how they perform. Afrocentric education helps [Black students] develop a
knowledge of the self, . . . it bridges them with pre-enslaved Africa. If you ask a lot
of Black children in the public school system who they are and where they come
from, they think they come from slavery. The slavery narrative in North America is
the most common thing taught about African history. The schools don't teach about
Imhotep and all different African leaders, warriors, and founding fathers. . . . If Black
children can associate inventions with Black inventors, they will become passionate
about education because it becomes achievable. . . . When they . . . see that there are
success stories in their community and not just a one-off; when they see that there are
endless resources of talents of successful African people living in North America, or
globally, then success becomes achievable for them; they start connecting with one of
their African ancestors on an idea they had when they were their age; they begin to
see themselves in Black heroes and “sheroes” they know in their sphere of awareness.
If they see that astronauts are all White, I don't think that they would want to become
astronauts. . . . I work with youth from elementary age up until young adults. One of
the most disheartening experiences is hearing what these children think of
themselves. They won't consider a lot of [mainstream] careers because they consider
them White careers. However, when you start telling these children that George
Washington-Carver did . . . outstanding work; that there is over 200 patents that we
use today, it inspires them. When you help them make these associations, they
develop an interest and a passion.

From Ananse’s response, I infer that TAAS and AE address those gaps in the
mainstream school system that leave Black students disaffected, which explains their lack of
interest in education and consequent academic underperformance and high dropout rate. In
contrast to the regular school system, TAAS provides a learning model and environment that
reflect the lived experiences of Black students and engage their interest in education.
Ananse’s comments underscore the importance of learning materials to which Black students
can relate and of an inclusive curriculum. Providing appropriate role models, moreover,
serves to motivate students to succeed both in school and later in life.

For the participants, much of the appeal of an Afrocentric curriculum lies in its
readiness to challenge White interests. Inclusive and non-hegemonic, it embraces diverse

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histories and disparate, often conflicting, perspectives; it also offers a wealth of Black
representations and is capable of supporting alternative pedagogies. The participants’ views
beg the question: Of what possible use is, say, Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales to, an
African-Canadian student educated primarily in Nigeria and conversant with the work of
Wole Soyinka or Chenua Achebe, two of Africa’s leading scholars (Dei, 1996b)? Of greater
import than utility, the kind of enforced acculturation required in the mainstream public
education system is likely to result in poor grades or even dropping out altogether.

According to Abdi (2012), Eurocentric education constitutes a vital cog in the

neocolonial project. To pass examinations, Black students are required to demonstrate a
familiarity with foreign concepts, some of which have little bearing on their intellectual
development. A corrective, Asante (1991) argues, lies in teaching African students that, to
take but one example, “mathematics was developed in Egypt, Babylon, Mesopotamia and
India long before it came to Europe” (Asante & Ravitch, 1991, p. 271). This is not to dismiss
the European contribution to mathematics, but, rather, acknowledge that “mathematics in its
modern form owes [a] debt to Africans and Asians” (Asante & Ravitch, 1991, p. 271). An
inclusive Afrocentric curriculum, according to this author, would underscore African and
European achievements in the domain of knowledge production. Such a holistic approach
can foster learning and ultimately bridge the achievement gap (Dei, 1996b), a view shared by
Shaka, Jennifer and Ananse.

6.6. Afrocentric Education:

The Optimisms and Possibilities

In light of the absence of anything resembling a consensus as to what TAAS

represents or the benefits to be derived from AE, I asked the participants to express their
views on these matters. Thus may be elucidated their reasons for entrusting their children’s
education to a school seen by many within and outside Toronto’s African-Canadian
community as well as the general public as controversial.

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 Patrick: What are some of the benefits that you anticipate would come with enrolling
Black children in an Afrocentric School?
Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): I see them occupying outstanding leadership positions in
different sectors of the society whether it is law, medicine, teaching, engineering, etc.,
Whatever they set their minds to do, they will be outstanding professionals; ethical
African men and women who proudly represent the African community. . . . I see
them reconnecting with African community . . . I see them as a force to be reckoned
with.
Rolonda (Social services worker): I see them in the workforce as nurses, engineers. . . . I
see some of them becoming lawyers. There aren’t enough Black lawyers [in the Black
community] [laughter].
Jennifer (Teacher-curriculum consultant): Ideally, I would like to see them graduate, . . .
continue on to whatever career goals that they have whether it's post-secondary
education, starting their own business . . . and becoming productive citizens.
Amma (Creative artist-educator): In 10 years, I think that they are going to be quite active
in our community even though some are still going to probably be in school. I can see
a number of them becoming entrepreneurs. I think they will do well and I am
referring to the first batch of students. I don't know about the ones who will come
after. Overall, I think they will still do well. They'll certainly grow up without a lot of
the trauma, a typical rite of passage that happens in the regular school.

The majority of the participants were highly optimistic regarding both the prospects
awaiting TAAS graduates and the ability of the school and its educational model to produce
young African-Canadian leaders imbued with a sense of commitment toward, and
responsibility for, the African-Canadian community. They see TAAS graduates as the Black
community’s next generation of leaders and role models. Though they may prove
unfounded, these lofty expectations go a long way to explaining the African-Canadian
community’s willingness to invest in TAAS.

Despite the overwhelming support for Afrocentric education predicated on the

opportunities afforded Blacks, the response of two participants was guarded.

Shaka (Office manager): Time will tell.

Ouzy (Senior manager-banker): In 10 years, I expect to see them a little bit more
confident about themselves; I expect to see folks who know a little bit more about
their heritage. I am not sure if I would see the kinds of leaders that I am idealizing.

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 While crediting TAAS with imbuing students with a modicum of self-confidence
derived from a knowledge of Black history, Ouzy has little faith that some of the lofty
expectations of Black parents and educators can ever be realized.

While the participants’ optimism stems from the high-test scores obtained during the
first year of TAAS’s existence, a new study, entitled “The Africentric Alternative School
Research Project: Year 3 (2013-2014) Report” revealed that “in Grade Three math, the
percentage of students meeting the provincial standards fell from 83 to 33” (Fanfair, 2015, p.
3; see Armstrong, 2015). The report also noted a considerable drop in student enrolment:
“after four years (2009-2012), of the students who started at [T]AAS, 43% were still
attending the school and 57% had transferred to another school inside or outside the TDSB”
(Armstrong, 2015, para. 20), raising the question of whether TAAS is sustainable.

James, the study’s chief investigator, assigns, blame for the precipitous drop in
enrolment to parents interested only in “trying [TAAS] out . . . to see if it works . . . or
[having to relocate outside the school’s jurisdiction or tiring of the] long commute”
(Armstrong, 2015, para. 22). James’s conclusions are at odds with the initial enthusiasm that
greeted TAAS. Kevin Erskine, a Black parent, opines that “it [would] be worth the drive
from Brampton if his son, Jabari, [could] get an education that includes learning about his
[African] heritage” (as cited in DeMara, 2009, para. 3).

According to the report, some parents attributed declining enrolment to the departure
of TAAS’s first principal, Thando Hyman (Armstrong, 2015). They claim that losing Hyman,
in addition to “some outstanding teachers” (para. 53), lowered academic standards, causing
some parents to withdraw their children from the school. According to Yolisa Dalamba,
“chair[woman] of the school’s Parent Council” (para. 11), the crisis at TAAS stems from
“political and cultural alienation, [the lack] of a shared vision, decisive leadership . . . [and
certain] teachers lacking “[the] experience, theoretical framework, or pedagogical practice in
Africentricity” (Dalamba cited in Armstrong, 2015, para. 54). Her view is consistent with
that of Amma’s.

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 Amma (Creative artist-educator): [TAAS] is departing from the highest standards . . .
[and was] kind of losing itself . . . [with the departure of] . . . the original principal.

What the literature reveals is that the kind of internecine infighting plaguing TAAS
has historical antecedents. Himself a proponent of separate education, Du Bois (1935)
warned that personality politics and efforts by a vociferous minority to impose its vision on
the majority could derail a noble experiment. Following Du Bois, it is not unreasonable to
argue that some of the problems afflicting TAAS, as Dalamba points out, is the result of an
intra-community dialectical struggle over whose vision of TAAS and AE will prevail.

6.7. Afrocentric School and Afrocentric Education:

The Challenges

In this section, I discuss the challenges TAAS has had to face since its official
opening. While optimistic regarding the achievements and future prospects of the school, the
participants were inclined to take a sober view of the challenges confronting the school and
its students. These will be discussed under five rubrics: TDSB authority over TAAS; teacher
training, professional development and budget constraints; TAAS and AE as viewed through
the lens of the mainstream media; the Black community’s adverse perception of TAAS and
AE; and the cavalier attitude of Black parents towards education.

6.8. TDSB Authority Over TAAS

Despite the perception among some participants that TAAS represents a symbol of
African-Canadian achievement, like all public schools in the Toronto metropolitan area, it
operates under the authority of the TDSB, which is responsible for its funding and for hiring
staff. This has led some participants to suspect that TAAS was set up to fail, thus providing
the TDSB with an excuse to close it down.

Amma (Creative artist-educator): When the school first opened, the staff was dumped on.
The opponents, some of them in the Toronto District School Board (TDSB) and
others in politics wanted the school to fail. . . . Students who were labelled problem

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 students elsewhere got dumped on the school. The TDSB did not give the school the
[required] number of teacher aides it needed. TDSB increased the student-teacher
ratio . . . the last minute. The influx of traumatized students . . . and the lack of
[teacher] assistants in the classrooms required the teachers to put in an incredible
number of hours after school. . . . I don't think that the school was ever wanted by
most of the members of the School Board . . . They did everything they could not to
be supportive. The Board and [a segment of] the Canadian public were surprised
when the school didn't collapse before opening, which actually angered a lot of them.
. . . When the first assessment test scores were released, the opponents were angered.
That wasn't something they wanted. I have no illusions that they’ve been converted;
they still don't want TAAS to succeed. We had asked for a high school, and rather
than grant our request, the TDSB talked about starting this high school program last
year, at the last minute again, within a White school with a White principal. Also,
they seem to be bending over backward stressing that “other people can come here
too, you know”, that other kids are welcome to go through this program, that it's open
to other kids, etc., That tells me how much the TDSB disapproves of, and is
uncomfortable with, effective education targeting African students that could
potentially produce non-Eurocentric graduates. And, frankly, TDSB’s desperate
approach in recruiting non-African students, to me, is a heads-up alert that this
program will not be doing what it's supposed to be doing for our kids, which is not to
say that White kids couldn't go to an Afrocentric program. They could, and I don't
know for what reason they would want to, though. . . . If they're approaching this
supposedly Afrocentric high school program with this view of selling it to White
people, then they have to make it weak in its Afrocentricity, such that it is going to be
acceptable to White people because quite frankly, they don't like Afrocentricity. They
are not comfortable with anything that does not support White supremacy and this is
the nature of European and neo-European-based cultural thought and behaviour. And
so, they’d have to make the program very weak in that regard, to the point that it just
nullifies the whole purpose of having an Afrocentric high school as far as I am
concerned.

Amma’s comments underscore the dominance TDSB exercises over TAAS, even
though for reasons of public relations, it presents the school and what it teaches as a
community initiative with minimal input form the school board. What is also revealed is a
lack of trust toward the TDSB for its historical rejection of educational reform, abrupt
changes in policy direction, excessive control over the curriculum and the hiring of teachers,
the use of funding to control dissent, and the habit of increasing teacher workloads without
providing adequate resources. While the TDSB works assiduously to preserve its public
image, e.g., by appearing to acquiesce to the demands of the African-Canadian community,
its counter-proposal to provide a high school program that offers the appearance of an

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Afrocentric education but not the content, attests both to its power and duplicity when it
comes to serving the needs of Black students. Amma’s principal fear is that the TDSB will,
over time, undermine TAAS through reforms aimed at mollifying the mainstream public that
may at some point wish White students to enroll at TAAS.

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): The school has been constrained by the bureaucracy and
politics at the Toronto District School Board. While the Board has obviously
provided some level of support to the school, it has failed to step up to the plate to
provide the level of support that the school needs to show that after 4 long years of
struggle, we have a standing school and enough space. At the moment, we share the
space with the Sheppard public school, which has the majority of the space while we
occupy a small space. As the [Afrocentric] school grows, we are crammed into the
same space. So, I think there are strengths in terms of the academic performance of
our children. . . . On the other hand, the School Board has not done enough to
support the progress of the school . . . As a community, what we need to do is to
organize ourselves to create independent African-centred schools that are fully funded
and supported by our community.

Titina Silla’s comments underscore the many challenges facing TAAS, including
having to share space with another school. The TDSB denies the school autonomy while at
the same time seeking to constrain its growth, high provincial test scores notwithstanding.
Her comments highlight the inequitable distribution of resources within the public education
system.

6.9. Teacher Training, Professional Development and

Budget Constraints

Although in the US separate Black schools have always had their supporters, many,
even among the most ardent, have often expressed reservations. Du Bois (1968), for
example, questioned their sustainability over the long-term, in light of the economic and
material conditions prevailing in Black America (Du Bois, 1968). Lacking sufficient
resources, the Black community, Du Bois contended, was constrained in terms of the support
it could provide Black schools.

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 As with any new school, the success of TAAS is dependent on teacher training and
development and familiarity with the Afrocentric curriculum and pedagogy. Owing to
cutbacks in funding, there exists the likelihood that, moving forward, the school will not have
the resources required to train teachers adequately, which could impact learning outcomes as
well as the viability of the school over the long-term. The participants shared their views on
TAAS’ fate in the event that funding should prove inadequate.

Ananse (Food justice manager): We've already seen the [challenges] . . . e.g., having the
appropriate staff. Just because you are a person of colour or you are an African
educator doesn't necessarily mean you are the right educator for an Afrocentric
environment. Having qualified, a trained staff and training opportunities for the staff
and volunteers on the appropriateness of dealing with everything is essential.
Jennifer (Teacher-curriculum consultant): TAAS is the first of its kind [in Toronto]. What
do we want the school to look like and what do we want it to achieve? How do we
want it to be as different from the public school system? . . . To achieve these goals
would require training the staff, especially the administrators responsible for
overseeing the school. How do they look at the best practices in the regular school
system and take away ideas that [will help improve] the Afrocentric School. When I
talk about professional development, I am also referring to training and lectures from
scholars who have researched Afrocentric [schools and education]. We can take away
from some of their ideas to help develop the school and its educational model.

Ananse and Jennifer’s comments draw attention to a key component of student

success: highly trained teachers and administrators with the knowledge and cultural
sensitivity requisite for educating African-Canadian students in accordance with both TDSB
standards and the vision put forward by TAAS. Attracting and training these professionals
will require adequate funding from the TDSB, which, if insufficient, will impede the school’s
ability to realize all its objectives. Indeed, increasing, or at least maintaining, funding levels
is especially critical in light of a growing student body and the need to conduct research and
engage expert lecturers. Failure in this regard could translate into student underperformance,
which critics would seize upon as a justification for closing the school and abandoning the
alternative school model.

Cuts to the TDSB budget are cause for concern. In 2008, a $41 million deficit was
projected for the TDSB. In his report and recommendations, Julian Falconer, a human rights

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lawyer, stated that the Board was “nowhere near sufficiently funded to manage” (as cited in
Lunau, 2008, para. 6) the growing needs of its student population, let alone fund the
programs already in place. In 2012–2013, in a move to make up a budget shortfall that had
grown to $110 million, the Board cut “200 secondary school teaching jobs and 134 staff . . .
resulting in $46-million in cuts to . . . programs” (Kauri, 2012, para. 7). At the same time, it
reduced the “PD [professional development] budget by $4.9 million” (para. 4) [and the
transportation budget by] $300,000” (para. 13). As of 2014-2015, the Board’s fiscal deficit
stood between “$12-14 million” (Rushowy, 2014, para. 7), which could mean further cuts to
various sectors of the public school system, TAAS not excepted.

Afrocentric parents worry about shortfalls in the school’s budget. Yolisa Dalamba,
chairwoman of the “School’s Parent Council,” provides a grim account of the impact recent
budget cuts have had on the school:

[The lack of adequate funding] has significantly impacted on the growth and
development of the school, and [it] puts a great deal of pressure on individual
teachers to be innovative, to be willing to go beyond the call of duty. . . .
Some succeed and some don’t. . . . We cannot [go on educating our kids this
way]. Our school [is] not . . . an experiment or a lab[oratory] to test our
children. (Armstrong, 2015, para. 28)

Perennial budget deficits pose a manifold threat to TAAS. First, the TDSB could cite
any sign of underperformance on the part of the school as grounds for closing it, thus
eliminating the only Afrocentric educational institution in Toronto. Second, the deficits make
it unlikely that student transportation will be subsidized, leaving it up to already financially-
strapped parents to come up with “transportation alternatives . . . including . . . car-pooling
and sharing the cost of a privately hired bus” (Hammer, 2009, para. 8), “which . . . take[s]
hours” (Ferenc, 2013, para. 12) to drive the students to-and-from school. Third, budget cuts
could very well undermine the initial enthusiasm that greeted TAAS’ establishment, thus
eroding community support. Should the school falter in meeting its primary goal of
enhancing the academic performance of Black students, the stakeholders, and especially the
parents, would likely question the additional burden, financial and otherwise, imposed by a
TAAS education. With increasing workloads and little or no incentives, i.e., training and

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professional development, teachers are likely to succumb to fatigue and low morale, which
would translate into high turnover rates and less time to cater to the needs of individual
students, thus returning to the very conditions TAAS was intended to address.

6.10. TAAS and AE Through the Lens of the Mainstream Media

As with most alternative projects that challenge White domination, TAAS and AE
have come under intense scrutiny by the mainstream media. Ignoring the school’s primary
goal of re-educating African-Canadian students, the latter have raised the spectre of a
segregationist project, a throwback to the past not to be tolerated in a multicultural country.
The participants shared their views on how the media has represented, or more accurately
misrepresented, TAAS and AE.

Titina Silla (Lawyer-student): [Since] the inception [of the] Afrocentric Alternative
School, the media [has been] a major culprit in . . . fanning the flames of division by
spreading information that basically said this is a step backwards in time and that
having an African-centred school is segregationist. So, you had people in the
community who were against it and, then, you had the media spreading its
propaganda about the school being segregationist and it being a step back in time.

Kombozi condemns the media for failing to distinguish between segregation and separation.

Kombozi (Mortgage broker): Even before the school was established, you had [the
media] saying it is segregation all over again when, in fact, they had not done their
homework. . . . Segregation is completely different from separation. Segregation is a
mandate imposed upon people against their will. Some defining characteristics of
segregation is that one group of people has the power to oppress the other and that
one group of people is above the other. It is an unequal relationship. This is not what
the Afrocentric School is about. Nobody is being oppressed at the school; there is no
class of people above the other. The school has nothing to do with segregation
whatsoever. . . . Segregated schools in the ‘50s and ‘60s have no similarities to the
Afrocentric School where parents send their children on their own volition and where
the standards of education are higher. Afrocentric students are outperforming their
non-Afrocentric peers. The misconception of the school has no basis in fact.

Kombozi’s response delineates the public confusion regarding segregation and

separation and the use of the former to recall a sad chapter in African-American history.

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Invoking the spectre of segregation, a strategy commonly used by critics of TAAS and AE, is
to ignore the fact that African-Canadian parents have a right of choice with regard to what
school their children attend vis-à-vis being legally compelled to enroll their children in
segregated schools as was the case in the United States during the pre-Civil Rights era.
Ironically, the same public that describes TAAS as segregationist fails to apply the same
label to those private schools, many of them denominational, where the principal criterion for
admission is either religious affiliation or gender.

In addition to demonizing TAAS as a segregationist project, the mainstream media

provides a platform for critics of all persuasions to belittle Black parents and the Black
community as a whole. Barry Lillie, a retired secondary school teacher and basketball
coach’s (Lillie, 2008), poses a number of questions that highlight White fear of the
implications for the public educational system of the kind of radical change TAAS
represents. In his view, the cause(s) of student underperformance lies, not with the school
system, but with Black communities that are dysfunctional. Overall, the tone here is one of
frustration.

So what are parents to make of this debate [on the Toronto Africentric Alternative
School]? Is it simply a Toronto thing, or does it have implications for our community
in Waterloo Region? Will local school boards or various community leaders petition
for similar choices? And what is a Black-focused school? Is it for students with a
Jamaican family tree or a Somalian family tree or a Kenyan family tree? Does a
student need to have two Black parents to qualify? Tiger Woods or Barack Obama are
of multicultural heritages, but viewed as Black Americans. (para. 5-6)

Lillie (2008) attributes the problems and challenges facing marginalized students to:

communities where children are being raised by children; . . . communities

where 70 per cent of children are without a father; [communities plagued by]
gangs and youth violence, . . . poverty and job loss that cripples families; . . .
and communities where positive role models have disappeared and been
replaced by leaders driven by anger . . . Every year I get the joyful experience
to participate at my granddaughter's school for a Christmas assembly or a
cross-country run. The different family roots are immediately apparent at a
glance. It is one of those quiet moments where it is inspiring to see young
children of many origins singing in joyful unison to our red-nosed Rudolph or

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 urging their schoolmate[s] to cross the finish line with a "Yes, you can."
(para. 8-10)

Lillie's (2008) lack of knowledge regarding TAAS and particularly its admissions
policy—the school is open to all children, regardless of race, gender, class, and ability—
speaks to a reflexive practice, common among critics and the public alike, of indicting TAAS
in the absence of even the most basic knowledge of its goals and policies. Bringing up the
subject of his granddaughter’s school Christmas party, he recalls his joy at "see[ing] young
children of many origins singing in joyful unison our red-nosed Rudolph” (para. 10)
presumably “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer”]. Lillie went on to note that "as a . . .
basketball coach for close to 30 years, I've had the close-up experience of watching Black
students flourish . . .” (para. 11) so long as their numbers were low relative to those of White
students:

When our school had a sprinkling of Black students, those students were more
likely to thrive and be part of the school life. When the number of students
reached a certain threshold, the Black students tended to become more
isolated, less involved in the school life, and more captured by the American
Black experience of the media and music world. (para. 12)

Lillie’s (2008) supposition that there exist resources adequate to addressing the
problems plaguing racialized communities has no basis in fact. Indeed, successive neoliberal
governments have made significant cutbacks to social programs, including education
(Johnson, 2013). And while absentee fatherhood remains a problem in the African-Canadian
community, there is little evidence to suggest that these fathers have been replaced by
"leaders driven by anger." Lillie's (2008) suppositions, like those of most critics of TAAS
and AE, are predicated on racial stereotypes and misinformation. His use of the term "our
red-nosed Rudolph" connotes that the "young children of many origins," as he characterizes
them, are not ‘Canadians’, a title tacitly reserved for White-Canadians of European origin.
Turning to his experience as a basketball coach, Lillie recalls "watching Black students [but
not White students] flourish [in sports but not academics]," drawing attention to the policy of
streaming African-Canadian students, particularly boys, into sports, the one area where, it is
assumed, they can excel. Lillie’s supposition that keeping Black student numbers low in

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relation to those of White students helps them thrive is not supported by the evidence, e.g.,
the high provincial test scores obtained by TAAS students.

Of the many weapons the corporate media deploys to signify the intellectual
inferiority of Black Canadians, none is more insidious than the comic illustration. Draping
racism in levity and excusing it on the grounds of free speech allow the media to escape the
stigma that would ordinarily attach to racist attacks on visible minority groups, thus leaving
Black communities with no defenders beyond their own borders.

“Afrocentric Algebra”, which appeared in the February 18, 2008 edition of The Globe
and Mail belies the notion that Canadian society is free of racism. The fat-lipped, cone-
headed Black teacher wearing oversized eyeglasses and enunciating the phrase “sup dog” is
intended as a caricature. The Blackboard in the background is inscribed with an ‘algebraic’
formula. Above the Blackboard is the caption “AFROCENTRIC ALGEBRA.” This cartoon
raises questions about institutional racism and about how the dominant order uses images to
signify the inferiority of an entire race. Perhaps the best way to analyze or deconstruct this
kind of text is by referencing it to five questions posed by Banks (1998): “Why are [Black
Canadians] described as intellectually inferior?” “Why are questions still being raised about
the intelligence of [Black Canadians] as we enter a new century?” “Whose questions are
these?” Whom do they benefit?” and “Whose values and beliefs do they reflect?” (p. 4).

This cartoon raises a numbers of questions. The first point of interest is the cartoon’s
pedagogical implications; specifically, it presents White knowledge systems as the most
appropriate for educating children and youth and alternatives as hopelessly inadequate if not
insidious. What is being questioned here is the ability of Afrocentric teachers to instruct
students in basic algebra. The implication is clear: Black students left in the hands of Black
teachers at TAAS are at risk of being misinformed and miseducated. The slang expression
“S’up Dog,” scrawled on the blackboard, insinuates that Black teachers are inarticulate and
incapable of formulating a simple sentence like “What’s up.” The humour arises from the
certainty that nothing so preposterous as 'Afrocentric Algebra’, or for that matter a
pedagogical approach to teaching it, could possibly exist. The single difference between the

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so-called "Afrocentric Algebra" and its mainstream counterpart—note that both have been
vetted and approved by the TDSB—is that the former provides historical perspective on the
development of mathematics, one that highlights the contributions of African peoples of
those other than Europeans.

As Dei et al., (1997) point out, one of the principal causes of Black student
estrangement from education is that they very seldom see themselves in the media, and when
they do, it is most often as caricatures. Beset by these negative representations, their history
and contributions denied, Black students come to school feeling empty and mentally beaten
down, only to be confronted by a curriculum that “render[s] Black Canadians insignificant,
unimportant and powerless” (Kong, 1996, p. 64). Thus do media and curricular
representations of Blacks serve to reinforce one another.

6.11. The Black Community’s Negative Perception of

TAAS and AE

Not surprisingly given their radical aims, TAAS and AE are the subject of contention
within the Black community. Some participants expressed frustration with certain of its
members for expressing views that are ill-informed, and for this reason jeopardize support for
the school; they also lend weight to the conviction, popular among certain segments of the
Black community, that ‘we are our own worst enemies.'

Jennifer (Teacher-curriculum consultant): [One] misconception that I've heard is,

somehow, people think the standards at the school are lower and that students would
not be able to function normally. . . . This is a negative subtext . . . that could pose a
challenge to some of our young people. I cannot recall which media it was that
questioned how the university or college applications of Afrocentric students would
be considered.
Mary (Social worker): The main challenge for the students is to prove to society that they
were awarded diplomas not just because they attended the Afrocentric School, but
because they received the same education as everyone else. Another challenge is the
perception of the school within the [wider] community; the idea that Afrocentric
students are not receiving [quality] education; that the school has lowered the bar, so
to speak, to pass students. This is misinformation.

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 Jennifer and Mary’s comments reveal that much remains to be done to educate the
public and the Black community regarding the real objectives of Afrocentric education,
leaving many to form views that have no basis in reality, e.g., the notion that Afrocentric
diplomas will be inferior to those issued by the mainstream public school system. Such fears
are, in fact, groundless, as both educational models offer students the same core courses, yet
they continue to plague many, especially Black parents concerned about their children’s
career prospects.

Titina Silla (Lawyer/student): Some in the Black community feel [the school] is
segregationist. These people did not take the necessary steps to investigate for
themselves what it was that we were trying to build; they did not come to any of the
meetings; they never spoke to any of the parents; they did not attend any of TDSB’s
meetings or spoke to the teachers about the school. They only read what was in the
media unaware that the media is a tool of the White supremacist society to influence
the way we think. The differing opinions about the school and, a lot of it, is based on
misinformation . . . designed to miseducate us and move us away from our
Africanness. . . . The differing conceptions of the Afrocentric School in the Black
community are a reflection of the extent to which we have been brainwashed by the
White supremacist society not to make inquiries about the school and just follow
what the media says is the truth and to our detriment.
Ananse (Food justice manager): People's objections to the school are rooted in racism and
self-hate. You have people from the Black community who say the school is
segregated and is unnecessary; that we live in times where we're all equal and
everybody gets along. There's also the education piece. People aren't fully educated
on the different statistics on the educational journeys of Black youth in Toronto. . . .
People don't understand fully what's really happening. They just have this snapshot of
what the media provides them. What they think about the school is usually shaped by
what they have heard. They don't really understand what's going on [in the school].
While this phenomenon is a shame, it presents an opportunity for people to educate
themselves around what is happening in the school system. People don't take the time
to research, they don't take the time to get into why things are the way they are and
this is why there is always a pushback. . . . [They] don't take the time to understand
the dynamics that shape institutions.

Titina Silla and Ananse cite a major challenge facing the school: a public that is
misinformed and a media intent on disseminating misinformation. On the other hand,
according to these respondents, the challenges confronting TAAS and AE in the African-
Canadian community stem from a lack of both intra-racial solidarity and interest on the part
of some in educating themselves about what the school really stands for. Media narratives

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questioning the necessity for TAAS succeeded all too well, both before and after its
establishment, in indoctrinating the general public as well as the African-Canadian
community with the view that TAAS and AE were being driven by a segregationist agenda,
an evocative term that works to paper over the unequal distribution of resources in the public
school system, resulting in poor neighbourhood schools with large class sizes, outdated
libraries and students treated differentially on the basis of race and class. Titina Silla and
Ananse’s comments also highlight a fundamental mistrust between TAAS and AE supporters
and the dominant media.

Shaka (Office manager): There are still people in the African Diaspora who say ‘let
bygones be bygones; let’s just move on. . . . So, when your own people are so
consumed trying to fit into a system that’s not accepting of them, . . . how do you de-
programme and re-programme them? When the Afrocentric School came up for
discussion, the biggest fight was not with other communities, but the African-
Canadian community [whether the school was necessary]. Something we heard quite
often [from certain Black parents] was ‘my son is doing perfectly well in the regular
school system, so why do we have to change the school system?’. . . The biggest fight
was not with other communities because we expected them to oppose the school.
However, when Black children are suffering from a toxic education system and some
of us are happy with it, then, you realize how difficult the fight ahead will be.

Shaka’s comments reveal ambivalence among the African-Canadian community as to

how best to move forward in educating its youth. Some, buoyed by isolated instances of
success in the mainstream public school system, see no need for change while worrying that
bold initiatives of the likes of TAAS and AE would only offend White Canada and open old
wounds. They are content to walk in the shadow of the dominant order, to make decisions
informed by the dominant agenda, despite the public school system having failed African-
Canadian students—to which a 40% dropout rate so amply attests. It may be inferred from
Shaka’s comments that a large subset of the African-Canadian population labours under the
spell of the dominant order such that it prefers the existing colonial education system to
TAAS and AE, pointing to the success of some African-Canadian students as an indicator
that all can succeed, in which case there is no need for an alternative.

Asante attributes the lack of resolve on the part of Africans to the tendency to appease
Europeans: “[There has been] a considerable number of . . . Blacks [who] have paraded in a

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single file and sometimes in concert [with Whites] to take aim at [Afrocentricity and
Afrocentric education]” (Asante & Ravitch, 1991, p. 269). According to Asante (2003), the
suggestion by some Africans that Black history be fossilized fails to account for the fact that
Eurocentric education teaches Black students to uphold European values and reject all that is
African. Asante calls this phenomenon “the slave mentality” (p. 5). The majority of those
comprising African elites who, on the basis of their social status and wealth, believe
themselves to be the equal of Europeans, are loathe to reject the status quo. In their view any
alternative would be suicidal, as it would deny them the benefits to be had from maintaining
their slavish relationship with the dominant order. For them, reproducing the status quo is
preferable to addressing historical wrongs.

6.12. Black Parents’ Cavalier Attitude Towards Education

While TAAS has succeeded beyond the expectations of many, including those among
the Black community, it continues to face serious challenges, not the least of which stems
from the lofty, often unreasonable, expectations harboured by Black parents. Some view the
school as a surrogate parent; others as an agent for socializing unruly children; still others as
unnecessary and divisive. Some of the participants were highly critical of the cavalier
attitudes of Black parents with regard to educating and disciplining their children—attitudes
that revealed deep-seated problems afflicting Black families and, by implication, the courage
required on the part of some Black parents to take personal responsibility for failing to rise to
the challenges facing their children and the Black community as a whole. Ananse’s account
of her personal experience of working with parents of children attending her school serves to
elucidate these challenges.

Ananse (Food justice manager): From my experience [as a proprietor of an Afrocentric

school], my biggest challenge was working with parents with varying levels of
expectations, consciousness, education and involvement with their child. Some
parents were going through social crises at home. They thought putting their children
in an Afrocentric environment could create opportunities for growth at home.
Unfortunately, it doesn't. In a case like this, how does the teacher work with these
families to make sure that the child is receiving the optimal experience in his or her
educational journey?

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 According to Ananse, many Black parents believe that the knowledge acquired at an
Afrocentric school can be put to addressing problems arising within the home and even to
revitalizing home life. Faced with such expectations, however unrealistic, teachers and staff
feel obligated to redouble their efforts at raising academic levels; they are further obliged to
work harder at liaising between school and parents. Ananse’s comments bring to the fore the
often nebulous relations existing between TAAS and the Black families whose children it
serves; in particular they serve to highlight the perception held by some parents that
educating their children is the school’s responsibility, not theirs. This parental disengagement
from the learning process often translates into poor grades, truancy and, ultimately, dropping
out of school.

Ouzy (Senior manager/banker): In the life of a child, the home [environment] is far more
important than the school and I am not minimizing the role schools play. As parents,
we should put the burden of raising our children on ourselves; . . . The issues are real
and we need to clean up our act first. When we look at the public school system, the
Chinese and Indian students are doing extremely well and I do not think that the
public school system promotes their culture [over others]. As Black parents, we need
to ask ourselves, what is that Chinese and Indian parents are doing that we are not
doing? Why do Chinese and Indian students have the highest marks in Reading and
Math [vis-à-vis] White kids? Is it because the Black culture is sidelined at school and
other cultures promoted? What exactly is the issue? I send my kids to KUMON
every Sunday and every time I go there, it is full of Chinese and Indian students. I
don’t see Black parents there. Why?

While Ouzy in no way devalues the importance of education—despite having serious

reservations regarding TAAS and AE—he believes that no school can be a substitute for the
home environment and that it is high time parents reclaim from teachers the responsibility for
nurturing their children. Committing to parental responsibility and letting TAAS play its part
in educating children will go a long way to helping the school and the community realize
their mutual goal of educating children.

In the course of interrogating the correlation between race and academic performance,
Ouzy appears to imply that culture rather than race may be the chief dynamic at play. It may
be, he seems to suggest, that Chinese and East Indian students excel in the classroom owing

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to superior motivation and discipline and a stronger work ethic vis-à-vis their Black
counterparts.

Abena (Project manager): As parents, we have failed our children. We no longer parent
them. We want the school or somebody to do it for us. Somehow, our focus has
moved to material things instead of parenting [our children]. . . . We think looking
good is the most important thing; we think giving our children the most expensive
running shoes; the Air Jordans, make them look good. . . . As a people, we have been
taught to . . . invest on our body to look good. We invest our money on the wrong
things . . . than investing [in our children’s education].

Abena indicts Black families for having failed to discipline their children, thus placing their
educational prospects in jeopardy. She believes that having abandoned their parenting rights,
the parents now look to the schools to discipline their children with the result that truancy,
delinquency, disobedience and dropping out are, and have been for some time, endemic.

Abena speaks to the power of the consumptive syndrome endemic in Black

communities. At its core lies a delusional notion that economic deprivation can be concealed
beneath an ostentatious display of wealth, however transitory. In pursuing the image of
wealth, Black parents, Abena seems to imply, lose sight of what is of real importance: the
education of their children. For her, this acquisitive imperative is rooted in impression
management, directed at expressing personal beauty through the wearing of upscale clothing
and accoutrements and at signifying standing in the community through the display of
iconographic goods, e.g., luxury automobiles. As evidence of the importance the Black
community places on appearance, a 1997 American Health and Beauty Aids Institute
(AHBAI) survey reported that “African Americans spend $225 million annually on hair
weaving services and products” (Byrd & Tharps cited in Patton, 2006, p. 36). According to
Wilson and Russell (1996), “Black women spent three times as much as White women on
their hair care” (as cited in Patton, 2006, p. 37). This amounts to nothing less than a
compulsion to allocate enormous resources to managing impressions on the part of a
community plagued by unemployment, poverty, youth crime and violence, along with high
dropout rates among students.

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 While the participants agreed that some Black parents were investing too little time
and resources in their children’s education, some sought to attribute their indifference to
negative media images of Blacks and/or colonial education. Such reasoning in the service of
excusing parental culpability in their children’s poor academic performance is borne, I would
argue, of racial solidarity.

Mary (Social worker): In the past, when programs were created for at-risk kids, Black
kids stopped coming. The Indians and Chinese saw it as an opportunity to tutor their
kids. . . . They took over the program. The time has to come for Black [parents] to
reinforce who we are. The Japanese, the Chinese, the East Indians are not being
bombarded that they are inferior. When you hear of a drug bust, . . . 99.9 percent of
the time, you would think it is a Black person.

While concurring with Ouzy that Black parents are partly to blame for the education
gap, Mary falls back on the race argument, i.e., that Black children would do well in school
but for the stereotypical images and racist policies and practices that have so long served to
marginalize and subordinate them and the Black community as a whole. However much this
claim may be supported by abundant and compelling evidence, it fails to explain why
Chinese and East Indian students succeed where Black students fail. It would appear that for
Mary, agency takes a back seat to external factors.

Kombozi (Mortgage broker): It is very difficult to change people's attitudes once they get
stuck in their ways. It could be that these parents from a young age were taught that
Black kids are not good at school anyway, so why waste their time on these extra
programs? Black people belong in the bottom, anyhow. . . . Believe it or not, there is
still a lot of Black people who, at least subconsciously, think that way. These parents
are not going to get behind their kids and push them to get straight “As” or go to visit
the teachers and the principal. They are not going to do that.

Kombozi historicizes what Ouzy calls Black apathy regarding education. He

attributes this deepening disaffection with education to the internalization of racial
inferiority. For Fordham and Ogbu (1986), the reason Black students so readily abandon their
academic dreams can be traced, at least to some degree, to the refusal on the part of White
Canadians “to acknowledge that Black [Canadians] are capable of intellectual achievement.

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. . . [Under this baleful influence,] [m]any Black students who are academically able do not
put forth the necessary effort and perseverance in their schoolwork and, consequently, do
poorly in school” (p. 177). Black resignation is passed on to Black children who come to
believe that “regardless of their individual ability and training or education, and regardless of
their . . . individual economic status . . . they [will never] be treated like White [Canadians]:
their fellow citizens” (Fordham & Ogbu, 1986, p. 181). There is in Kombozi’s remarks no
scope for human agency. He also neglects to explain why some Black students from working
class families do succeed despite the odds stacked against them.

The press routinely blames Black parents, at least in part, for the underperformance of
Black students. In an op-ed piece appearing in the Toronto Star, Ian Allen lays the blame for
the academic underperformance of Black students squarely on the shoulders of Black
families.

As a 21-year-old Black male student at the University of Toronto, I find it both

destructive and insulting to suggest that a separate school is required to achieve
educational success in the Black community. This idea concedes the false notion that
Black students can't "cut it" in the current system for institutional reasons. The system
is not the problem and the system can never be the cure. If the home is not the hub of
educational and self-promoting values within the Black community, an Afrocentric
school will see a continuation of the problems of truancy, apathy and poor results.
The buck must stop at the doorstep of the Black family (in whatever form that may
exist). Every moment we spend applying unproven patchwork solutions to the Black
community problem is a moment we spend not addressing the more important
personal and family responsibility component to fixing things. Every moment we
spend holding the two in tandem diverts attention away from the fact that Black
parents are failing to want success for their children and Black youth appear to not be
wanting it for ourselves (Allen, 2008, para. 1-4).

Writing prior to TAAS’ official opening, Allen sees nothing remiss in prejudging the
school. His views are predicated on self-doubt and on a defeatist attitude born of oppression
that assumes African-Canadians to be incapable of developing initiatives, such as educational
reforms, aimed at promoting the collective interests of their communities. Contrary to
Allen's views, TAAS was created to be, not a repository for underperforming Black students,
but a learning environment where children of African-Canadian descent can learn about
themselves and their heritage, in addition to all the subjects in the curriculum. In singling out

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the home environment as the chief determinant of academic underperformance, Allen ignores
the importance some Black parents place on education and the resources and time they invest
in ensuring their children excel in school (Codjoe, 2006; Johnson, 2013).

What the critics fail to understand is that for stakeholders, TAAS represents a
significant improvement over the status quo as well as a beacon of hope, lighting the way to a
brighter future for African-Canadian students and the Black community as a whole—and this
despite its shortcomings. The school is the product of decades of frustration with a public
education system that has failed to address the underperformance of African-Canadian
students. And whereas in the past segregated schools in both Canada and the US severely
limited the educational options available to Black parents, the latter now have a choice, and
many are opting for TAAS for all the reasons discussed above. These same parents can
withdraw their children should they decide that TAAS is not serving their educational and
developmental needs. That so many have worked so long and tirelessly to make TAAS a
reality speaks to its perceived superiority vis-à-vis mainstream schools. As Dei and Kempf
(2011) note, “it cannot be forgotten that the Afrocentric alternative idea in Toronto was
fought for and won by concerned parents and community members who refused to continue
to sit idly by and wait for others to find and implement solutions to a system that had failed
them in large numbers” (para. 8). Better to try and fail than do nothing.

Thus, for all its persistent ills, some self-inflicted, others the product of outside
forces, TAAS at least affords Black parents an alternative to an educational status quo that
has so demonstrably failed their children. This is not to dismiss the school’s many critics,
who point to a host of problems, including inequitable budget allocation and a tendency to
foster segregation along “religious, ethnic, [and] socioeconomic lines” (Davies & Aurini,
2011, p. 460). As Davies and Aurini (2011) points, some parents choose schools based on
their “exclusivity rather than [their] pedagogical quality” (p. 461). School choice, critics
argue, for the most part, benefits “White middle-class families and students,” (Gulson &
Webb, 2013, p. 168) who enjoy “choice by mortgage . . . [and do] . . . exercise a degree of
school choice by selecting their residence with local school quality in mind” (Davies &
Aurini, 2011, p. 462). This privileged group are well-informed, better educated, and have the

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social and cultural capital and, most importantly, the finances to fund their children’s
education vis-à-vis their working-class counterparts (Davies & Aurini, 2011; Gulson &
Webb, 2013). School choice, research shows treats the symptoms of inequality, i.e.,
achievement gap, in the public education system and not the causes (Davies & Aurini, 2011;
Gulson & Webb, 2013). According to Gulson and Webb (2013), while school choice is held
up as success story of democratic education in multicultural Canada, it commodifies race,
ethnicity, gender, etc., Citing TAAS, Gulson and Webb (2013) argue that school choice
“does not . . . address the educational needs of all Black students in Toronto; . . . [Thus,]
within a choice framework, [lies] an intervention into the discourses of educational equality”
(Gulson & Webb, 2013, p. 177). In the context of TAAS, school choice is an atonement by
policymakers after many of years of dismissing calls for educational reform.

The next and concluding chapter summaries the key research findings and enumerates
TAAS’ achievements, along with barriers to further progress; it also provides
recommendations for overhauling the school’s operations and its educational model, all with
a view to enhancing the learning process.

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Chapter 7.

Conclusion:
Implications and Recommendations for the
Toronto Africentric Alternative School and
Afrocentric Education

This dissertation has examined Black parents’ perceptions of the Toronto Africentric
Alternative School (TAAS) and Afrocentric education (AE). Salient to this enquiry is what
the participants, 12 Black parents, five with children attending TAAS, think about the school,
about the educational model informing it, and about race, racism, differential treatment,
Blackness, and student underachievement, in addition to the opportunities available to
graduates, or lack thereof. The history of TAAS and AE, along with the crucial importance
attributed to a Black identity in the context of public education, was investigated. The study
also broached Black parents’ views on the mainstream public school system, which critics
largely blame for the underperformance of Black students. Lastly, it sought to derive
meaning from the Black student experience of public schooling as understood by Black
parents and, on this basis, prescribe remedies for eliminating or mitigating those factors
responsible for the high drop-out rate among Black students, which sometimes translates into
unemployment, crime and/or substance abuse.

The interviews revealed that participants believe that a primary cause of Black
student underperformance in the public school system lies in a Eurocentric curriculum and
pedagogy that dismisses, negates and/or distorts Black contributions to world civilization in
general and to Canada in particular. Most participants were of the view that the remedy lies
in adopting an Afrocentric system of schooling and educational model, a prescription
supported by the literature.

The literature also revealed AE to be a highly contentious issue both in the US where
the concept originated and in Canada where it was taken up. Canadian advocates, among
them the participants in this study, see AE as a corrective to the status quo, as a way to wean

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Black students off Eurocentric education and a White-oriented curriculum that stereotypes
Africans and Africa. For critics, AE is separatist in orientation and antithetical to the long-
term goals of Black students. The solution lies, in their view, in reforming the existing
system.

In this study, I have sought to derive meaning from the views Black parents have of
TAAS and AE. Towards that end, no effort was spared in treating the research participants
not as people on the fringe of society, but as co-producers of knowledge.

What follows is an overview of the participants’ perceptions of TAAS and AE;

findings drawn from the responses to the interview questions, along with conclusions derived
from those findings; a discussion of the implications and limitations of the research;
recommendations targeted at improving TAAS and AE; and identification of directions for
future research.

7.1. Overview/Findings

The participants, 12 Black parents (3 men and 9 women), identified racism in the
Toronto public school system and the exclusion of an African-centred knowledge system
from the curriculum as the overriding causes of underperformance on the part of Black
students. By ignoring and/or trivializing African-Canadian history and the contributions to
Canada and world civilization made by Africans and those of African descent, and by
privileging a Eurocentric knowledge systems, mainstream education works to promote White
supremacy, while at the same time undermining the confidence and self-esteem of Black
students. The result is a Black student population that is alienated from the learning process
as evinced by high truancy and dropout rates and academic failure far above the norm.

With a single exception, the participants viewed TAAS and AE as a corrective to

student disaffection and underachievement. They were convinced that by investing time and
resources in learning Black history—both the experience with colonialism and contributions
to world civilization—from an Afrocentric perspective, the school was succeeding in

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restoring Black students’ confidence and self-esteem, along with an interest in learning that
the public school system had all but destroyed. They were further convinced that once
apprised of this knowledge, the students would in turn communicate it to their families and
through them the entire Black community, thereby promoting resistance to racism both
within and outside the public education system.

Despite the participants’ considerable knowledge about and high approval of AE, the
concept remains a nebulous one for many in the Black community who equate the AE model
solely with learning about Black culture and heritage. This misconception is at variance with
Asante’s (1991) concept of Afrocentricity as:

[A] frame of reference wherein phenomena are viewed from the perspective of the
African person . . . [from] every aspect of the dislocation of African people; culture,
economics, psychology, health and religion . . . [with] Africa asserting itself
intellectually and psychologically, breaking the bonds of Western domination in the
mind as an analogue for breaking those bonds in every other field. (as cited in
Mazama, 2001, p. 388)

For the lone dissenting participant, Ouzy, teaching Black children about their heritage
should fall within the purview of the Black family. And while all viewed AE as essential to
educating Black students, there was no consensus about whether race should be featured as
the centrepiece of a TAAS curriculum and pedagogy. Two participants, Mary and Zindzi,
expressed deep reservations about making race the focal point of an educational approach
catering to Black children, fearing it might simply promote a Black version of racial
superiority. Such disparate views suggest that as a concept AE remains very much a work in
progress, and as such requires frequent modification.

7.2. Conclusion

Parental support for AE may be attributed, in large part, to TAAS’ inclusive approach
to education, in particular the practice of making parents the cornerstone of their children’s
education—one predicated on fostering a school-family partnership based on respect,
collegiality and the ethics of care. Those participants who support AE unconditionally

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possess an extensive knowledge of Afrocentricity, seeing it as the key to enhancing Black
self-esteem and pride and restoring Africa’s rightful place in the global sphere of knowledge
production. In addition, those conversant with historical and contemporary international
developments and history, e.g., the slave trade, African countries’ struggle for independence
from colonial rule, Western hegemony vis-à-vis post-colonial Africa, modern-day racism,
particularly in Canada—expressed unqualified support for TAAS and AE. This revelation
supports Asante’s assertion that benefits often accrue from Black initiatives (Asante, 2003).

On the other hand, those ambivalent or opposed, tended to view the school and its
educational model through the prism of multiculturalism, which led them to harbour doubts
as to how TAAS graduates might fare in a White-dominated society should AE fail to deliver
the goods. Thus unqualified support from some participants was tempered by serious
reservations by others.

It was further concluded that those participants who supported TAAS and AE were
sensitive to the nuances and centrality of race and identity as these play out in the education
of Black students. From their standpoint, AE serves to counter a Eurocentric construction of
Black identity, which works to conflate Blackness and primitiveness. It does this, the
majority of the participants claim, by valorizing Black history and heritage, which in turn
serves to enhance students’ self-esteem, making them impervious to racial typecasting aimed
at trivializing Black contributions to world civilization and undermining the collective and
individual self-image of Black people.

It also appears that the participants in no way favour scrapping the regular public
school system; nor do they advocate establishing alternative schools based on educational
models that work to indoctrinate Black students with racist, i.e., anti-Canadian or anti-White,
views, a concern expressed by a large section of the Canadian public. Rather, their advocacy
of AE represents—and this is especially true for the most fervent supporters—a response to
the persistent minimization in the curriculum of the Black contribution to Canada and to the
world. What the majority of the participants wish to see implemented in the school system, of
which TAAS is a part, are policies aimed at incorporating disparate knowledge systems that

237
challenge the basic assumptions of their Eurocentric counterparts. Thus, for example, Shaka
and Zindzi, both strong proponents of TAAS and AE, reject any attempt, overt or latent, to
use either as a vehicle to impose a Black version of racial superiority. For them, as with the
rest of the participants, AE is seen as a corrective to the mainstream education system, a
concerted effort by Black parents to introduce African knowledge systems capable of
foregrounding the signal achievements of Africa and the African diaspora.

Eleven of the 12 participants believed TAAS and AE to be a corrective for the poor
academic performance of Black students, a view supported by the literature. The one
dissenter was of the opinion that the school and its educational model were unnecessary in a
multicultural Canada. Both the weight of the literature and the findings of the study provide
grounds for establishing additional Afrocentric schools, an initiative the Ontario Ministry of
Education would do well to consider.

In light of the setbacks the school has suffered, including declining enrolments, high
levels of teacher turnover, and failure to meet academic expectations as measured by test
scores (Armstrong, 2015), it is the view of this writer that if TAAS is to reclaim its early
success, it will require adequate funding, in addition to specialized teacher training,
professional development and research. More importantly, going forward, the Black
community must be engaged in all phases of the decision-making process, and especially
with regard to the creation of new Afrocentric schools.

In addition, critics must reconcile themselves to the fact that, if it is to succeed, TAAS
requires their support, along with time. For their part, supporters need not interpret every
criticism of the school as an attack on African-Canadians or on the Black community,
notwithstanding that terms like "Black [matriarchal] family, absentee fathers and a culture of
criminality” (Walker, 2008, para. 12) used by critics to explicate student underperformance
could be characterized as such. It is essential to view at least some of these criticisms as valid
and seek out ways of applying them in a constructive fashion with a view to building an
educational system that works for African-Canadian students (Walker, 2008). For their part,
White Canadians must exercise a modicum of understanding, and in particular cease seeing

238
in the Black community’s interrogation of White privilege, institutional racism and their
impact on educational outcomes as an excuse to absolve Black parents of responsibility. To
reject Black parents’ perception of what social justice and education should entail is to reject
the moral imperative that as a society, we are morally bound to help the disadvantaged. What
I also gather from the majority of the participants is that TAAS and AE are in no way
substitutes for multicultural schools and multicultural education; rather, they are expressions
of multicultural education with Africa and Africans as the foci. This understanding can help
bridge the achievement gap by helping turn critics of the school into allies in the fight to
incorporate the principle of justice in the public education system. By critics, I am referring
to individuals, Black and White, who are constructive in their criticism of TAAS and AE,
and with whom progressive members of the Black community, and beyond, can build
friendship and solidarity with a view to improving education for Black students. This
definition excludes, let me emphasize, agent provocateurs, Black or White, whose views of
the school and AE are informed by a White supremacist ideology and the imperative to
condemn anything Black as wholly lacking in merit.

7.2.1. Research Implications

This study involved conversations with a number of Black Torontonians focusing on

the role TAAS and AE have played, and may play in the future, in promoting equity-based
education. In doing so it has exposed the power relations and colonial ethos that inform the
public education system in general, with a special focus on the schools in the Toronto School
Board. Moreover, in common with earlier Afrocentric-based studies, it has challenged the
way the mainstream education system signifies Africans and their contribution to civilization.

This study underscores Africa’s numerous and sundry contributions to civilization,

with a view to empowering Africans to speak in ways that reflect and legitimize their
experience. Conversely, this study reveals one major encumbrance of Afrocentric theory; its
imprecise definition of African identity. Addressing the African identity; who is an African
and what it means to be African, considering the pliability of the African identity will abate
its rigid appropriation to exacerbate racial, cultural and epistemic tensions, which are

239
inconsistent with the tenets of Afrocentricity; a philosophical thought with Africa and
Africans as its foci and rejects the unempirical valorization of Africans.

This study has major implications for public education. It problematizes the
perception of TAAS and AE as anti-White and opposed to Canadian values of inclusion and
tolerance. All the participants were adamant that neither the school nor its educational model
represent a rejection of Canadian values. To the contrary, they embrace multiculturalism and
a curriculum that reflects values like diversity and inclusiveness. To build an education
system capable of promoting such values would involve, according to the majority of the
participants, nothing short of the herculean task of identifying and adopting a set of
knowledge systems that highlight the contributions of Indigenous, White, African, and
Asian-Canadians to Canada and to world civilization. This approach goes beyond those
approaches to multiculturalism where the valorization Eurocentric knowledge remains
dominant while other knowledge systems added remain on the margins. With inclusive
education one of its recommendations, this study will help educate policymakers with a deep-
seated bias regarding, and/or limited understanding of, AE. Publishing my findings in
academic journals and presenting them at conferences will soften the attitudes of
policymakers toward AE.

To give back to the community, especially Black parents unable to attend conferences
or access academic publications, I shall make use of local media, e.g., community
newspapers, magazines and radio stations, along with social media, in particular Facebook
and blogs, to demystify research and theory and allay the community’s suspicion of research
and researchers. Involving the community will help bridge the gap between it and the higher
institutions of learning wherein research is conducted. All these strategies aim at dispelling
the misperception that Black parents invest little time and resources in their children’s
education. In a more modest sense, this study has contributed to a growing body of literature
on Afrocentric schools and AE by using the voices of Black parents to examine the successes
and failures of one such school, while laying bare the concerns of its many critics.

240
 On the policy front, the study elucidates the principal factors responsible for the
achievement gap in public education. This may galvanize policymakers into scrutinizing
more closely the public school curriculum and pedagogy, in particular focusing on whose
knowledge and whose history are privileged and the consequences for Black students. It may
also lead them to include in their policy considerations the concerns of Black parents, the
first all-important step to formulating policies aimed at bridging the achievement gap. Such
policies would necessarily include measures directed at altering a teaching culture that all too
often tolerates racial stereotypes, while ignoring their impact on visible minority students,
and formulating teaching strategies capable of accommodating the diverse interests of
students from disparate backgrounds.

With regard to teacher education and professional training, the findings provide
grounds for redesigning teacher training programs with a view to inculcating a pedagogic
philosophy that values diversity in all its forms—racial, ethnic, gender, religious. Curricular
diversity, vis-à-vis the curricular homogeneity that is the rule in the public school system,
must translate into something more than a token chapter on African-Canadian history, replete
with accounts of the Underground Railroad, Black Loyalists and historical celebrities like
Marie-Josephe Angelique, if it is to be taken seriously as a driver of multicultural education.
Despite all the high-minded rhetoric celebrating the latter, the Ontario Grade 7 and 8 History
curriculum, to take but one example, is suffused with incidents and figures taken from White
Canadian history—the Battle of Saint Eustache, the Upper Canada Rebellion, Louis-Joseph
Papineau, John Graves Simcoe, Alexander Mackenzie—with Black Canadian history
referenced only for pedagogical convenience and to placate critics of multicultural education.
These passing references to Black heroes and to exotic dancing and drumming, along with
other facets of African culture, do not address, however, what is seemingly a complex
problem in the public education system, namely skewed historical accounts and their impact
on the education of Black students.

Input on the part of the TDSB is clearly needed to help design an African-centred
curriculum. In addition, courses providing an Afrocentric narrative on history, which are
essential to educating African-Canadian students, must go beyond celebratory anecdotes,

241
some of which smack of revisionism. These accounts, moreover, must in no way conceal or
excuse African culpability in the most appalling practices, including the enslavement of
fellow Africans and, after the arrival of first Muslim then European slave traders, bartering
them in exchange for trade goods; and the oppression of African women and marginalization
of children with severe physical disabilities—often justified on the basis of prehistoric
tradition. An African history told from a critical standpoint will provide a fair and accurate
representation of African virtues and flaws, thus guiding the way forward in the 21st century
and beyond. Not only is such a valuation intrinsic to the Canadian sense of exceptionality; it
is also essential to ensuring the success of Afrocentric students.

Entreating teachers to be “responsible [and] use appropriate and effective

instructional strategies to help students to achieve . . . curriculum expectations” (Service
Ontario, 2013, p. 15) does not go far enough, nor does the TDSB directive stating that
“teachers may wish to seek out current research, resources on instructional approaches,
mentors and/or professional development and training opportunities, as necessary [my
emphasis]” (p. 17). While good intentions are to be commended, they are no substitute for
policy. Directives that are contingent on the volition of the teacher, and that take no account
of his/her politics and values, ensure that White supremacy will never be interrogated and
counter-hegemonic narratives scrutinized.

The findings also suggest it is imperative that teachers possess a knowledge of

African history so that they might communicate to students’ positive images of Africa and
elucidate the contributions of African heroes and “sheroes,” while still acknowledging those
of Canada’s multi-ethnic groups—Whites, Asian Canadians and First Nations. Awareness of
such images and contributions would, in turn, promote, in the context of the classroom the
cause of social justice, thereby helping bridge the achievement gap in the public education
system.

242
7.2.2. Research Limitations

For me, the study proved both a rewarding and humbling experience. It afforded an
opportunity to meet and interview Black parents willing to share with me their perceptions of
TAAS and AE and their views on the structural barriers in the education system that work to
impede learning. It was a privilege to converse face-to-face with Black parents who
understand the public education system better than anyone and whom I consider to be
repositories of invaluable knowledge. The insights thus gained allowed me to negotiate the
sometimes impenetrable terrain where theory and reality converge. However, a caveat is
warranted here; the participants’ views regarding TAAS and AE in no way represent a
totality; rather, they constitute personal narratives aimed at presenting a ‘picture,’ however
incomplete, of their social world. As such they remain stories, which, speak to the lived
experience of these specific individuals.

While the participants were at one in viewing themselves as Blacks or Africans or

both, they differed widely in terms of class, sex, age, and occupation, which worked to
inform their perceptions of TAAS and AE in subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle ways. In
addition, it is not necessarily the case that their views reflect those of the majority of Black
parents with children attending the school. Developing a fuller, more comprehensive (and
undoubtedly more nuanced) understanding of Black parents’ perceptions of TAAS and AE
will require additional studies, including quantitative surveys of large numbers of parents and
qualitative studies that sample specific sub-populations, e.g., upper-middle class Black
parents who recently immigrated from Africa and Black parents who have withdrawn their
children from the school. Moreover, a study focusing on former TAAS teachers would likely
yield rich results. It would also be useful to investigate ways and means of building alliances,
which I consider essential to ensuring the long-term success of the TAAS and AE.

7.3. Recommendations

The following three recommendations specify ways and means to improve TAAS and
AE, with a view to narrowing the achievement gap in the public education system.

243
7.3.1. The Toronto Africentric Alternative School:
The Need for Greater Transparency

As revealed in this study, negative public perceptions of TAAS and AE cannot be

attributed solely to media misinformation campaigns. Even though the school provides
Black students with the best education available, as evidenced by their high scores on
provincial tests, it needs to do much more to increase transparency, for example, by updating
the school’s website and organizing workshops within both the school and the community.

TAAS should be encouraged to re-evaluate its approach to dealing with matters

relating to students, Black parents and the community, especially those matters that the latter
believe warrant their involvement, e.g., special education (Armstrong, 2015). For example,
Amma, an unapologetic supporter of TAAS, appeared highly distraught when sharing her
thoughts on the school, particularly those regarding the new administration. In her view the
school’s new management was sidelining voices it deemed militant; it was also not opposed
to modifying AE in order to placate the public. Both she and Dalamba believe the school is
less forthcoming with Black parents: Dalamba asserts the School Council has not been
consulted enough on certain issues related to students (as cited in Armstrong, 2015). My own
experience with the school administration, which was limited to a series of unanswered
requests for general information pertaining to school policy and operations and a final note of
acknowledgement advising that I contact the school board, did little to dissuade me that its
critics were correct in claiming that the school was not as open and forthcoming as it might
be.

The school was unable to provide access to school documents because of other
studies already taking place at TAAS (see p. 124) and their limited capacity to respond to my
request. While this is understandable and is likely a reflection of their policy with respect to
requests from researchers, it can be interpreted as a lack of openness. This, along with a
steady stream of negative media reports, only feeds the public perception of TAAS as
reclusive and secretive. If the school decided to adopt an open-door policy, it would stand to
gain from better public relations and constructive feedback, which would improve the

244
school’s public image and enable it to operate more efficiently. It would also provide critics
the opportunity to learn more about the school and its educational model. The cost of not
doing so was brought home by the discovery that the participant who held the most negative
views on TAAS and AE knew the least about them; indeed, all his information was based on
what others had told him. This problem might be addressed at minimal or no cost by
recruiting volunteer communications officers from among parents with extensive knowledge
of the school and good communication skills; indeed, some of participants in the study would
easily qualify for such a position. Implementing this recommendation would help counter
public criticism of the school fanned by mainstream media—for the majority of Canadians
the principal source of information or more accurately ‘misinformation.’

7.3.2. Tension Between TAAS and Black Parents:

Healing Old Wounds

Despite the great progress the school has made over the course of 7 years, particularly
with respect to promoting academic excellence, there exists growing tension between, on one
hand, the school administration and the majority of the parents and, on the other, a vocal
minority of parents who are advocates for a fundamentalist brand of Afrocentric education
which is antithetical to the kind of mainstream educational narratives that the former wish to
see incorporated in AE. The minority group assign blame for what they view to be the slow
decline of TAAS, at least in part, to its departure from its Afrocentric roots. They see
themselves as marginalized by the moderate majority that support incorporating at least some
elements of ME into AE.

Even though both camps mean well, their rivalry is hardly in the best interests of the
school, and particularly the students. Resolving this problem requires ‘healing.’ However,
healing cannot be achieved, by bringing the two sides together under the aegis of some
powerful authority charged with arbitrating an agreement, which while acceptable to some,
would possibly leave others alienated. Healing requires a Mandelaesque-type of
reconciliation, a process whereby all the stakeholders—the school, parents and community—
would assemble under the aegis of Black elders for a frank discussion informed by the

245
reconciliatory principle. This process and model was applied to very good effect in South
Africa following the demise of Apartheid. Making this principle operative requires that all
parties recognize that their common interests outweigh whatever gains may accrue through
recourse to a zero-sum game: As a people, we exercise our right to disagree with each other
not because we hate each other, but because we care about our collective wellbeing and,
more importantly, survival of our children and our community. It also requires forgiveness,
for only by forgiving those who have harmed us can we heal old wounds and progress be
made toward achieving unity. It is imperative, I believe, for TAAS to consider taking the
reconciliation route to resolving a debacle that threatens to jeopardize all that it has so
painstakingly achieved.

7.3.3. Bridging TDSB-Black Parent Relationship

Using Dialogue and Complementarity

One frequent note sounded during the interviews was that the TDSB was willing to
acquiesce to the establishment of TAAS only because it was assumed that the school would
fail. The perception that this is the attitude of the Board continues to bedevil its relations with
Black parents. Another widely held view is that the Board has not done enough to support
TAAS and other Afrocentric initiatives. Some participants even suggested that the TDSB
could not be trusted. This attitude is born of its indifference, or so the participants claim,
toward the perennial underperformance of Black students attending the regular school
system. Some participants described the Board as patronizing, pointing to its supercilious
attitude toward TAAS and AE, as revealed, for example, by the short shrift given to
announce the opening of a new Afrocentric high school: Winston Churchill Collegiate
(WCC). As TDSB spokesperson Shari-Schwartz-Maltz later admitted, the low enrolment of
Afrocentric students at WCC was due to a belated news release stating that “no one knew
much about it” (as cited in Brown, 2013, para. 2).

Another area where support appears to be lacking is transportation. According to

Ferenc (2013), “the Toronto School Board doesn't provide transportation to students
attending either Afrocentric school” (para. 12), leaving parents, many of whom are low-

246
income, to provide what for many students is an essential service. By funding transportation
costs, TDBS would help alleviate the ever-increasing financial burdens on Black parents and
allow them to apply the monies thus saved to other educational needs, e.g., books and
fieldtrips.

If these problems are to be addressed, the Board would do well to consider working
with Black parents and the Black community. This would require shedding a colonial
mentality that recognizes but one sovereign authority on educational matters while regarding
other stakeholders as obstacles to be circumvented or manipulated.

TDSB might also consider treating parents as full partners rather than uninformed
critics with no understanding of its policies. In addition, it is recommended the Board make
available to Afrocentric teachers, administrators and staff adequate resources and
professional training. Funding these initiatives, I would argue, is in the long-term interest of
both the Board and the province. For one thing, it would have an immediate effect on
reducing the high dropout rates endemic among Black students, which in turn would lower
the incidence of juvenile crime, resulting in huge savings for the criminal justice system.

In addition, the Board might consider working in partnership with parents and the
Black community to educate the public about TAAS, rather than leave the latter to defend the
school against its many critics, most especially the mainstream media. The Board would also
do well to keep Black parents, the community and the public informed regarding its plans for
Afrocentric education, particularly with respect to expanding TAAS. Consulting with all
stakeholders well in advance of policy announcements would provide invaluable feedback,
eliminate unpleasant surprises, and preclude media feeding frenzies, which invariably portray
Black parents in pejorative terms. Lastly, and most importantly, it is recommended the Board
provide separate schools for all students wishing to have an Afrocentric education.

One important point made by all the participants pertained to the effort and resources
they had invested in educating their children. Though from diverse backgrounds, all reported
helping their children with homework and cultivating in them a sense of their African

247
heritage, an investment in time and effort they believed to be crucial to achieving a high level
of academic performance. Because these parents see their families as extensions of TAAS,
they view working collaboratively with the school to be in the best interests of their children,
the school, the Black community and ultimately Canada. It is recommended, therefore, that
TBSB consider funding TAAS workshops aimed at building partnerships between the school
and Black parents. The workshops would provide a locus where the parents could meet the
wards, teachers and school administrators; discuss the challenges facing the school and their
children as well as remedial strategies; and network and build social relationships that would
be particularly beneficial for those parents who are disadvantaged. In an environment
conducive to building solidarity and trust, both critical to student success, Black parents,
students and teachers would be empowered to develop strategies aimed at achieving positive
educational outcomes.

Despite being hailed as a singular achievement in the domain of educational reform,

TAAS remains a work in progress. Realizing its goals will require an understanding on the
part of all the stakeholders that racism still exists in the public education system and that
combatting it will require building a partnership among the TDSB, Black parents, the Black
community and their respective allies, one founded on mutual consideration, respect and
support. And while dissension among the various actors remains rife, it can be resolved
through dialogue and research and by fostering the understanding that, albeit their different
stances, Black parents are united in wishing their children to succeed. In reaching out to
others both within the Black community and beyond, they can, moreover, enlist the support
of new allies on behalf of a generation whose academic needs are not being met in the
mainstream public education system.

248
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Appendix A.

Semi-Structured Interview Protocol: Individual Interview

Research Title: Afrocentric Education: What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?

Name: Date:
Ethno- Education: Age:
Nationality:
Family Type: Occupation: Gender:
Number of children enrolled in the Toronto public School system:
Number of children enrolled in the Toronto Africentric Alternative
School:

1. Have you heard of Afrocentrism? What do you understand it to be and what do you think
of it?
2. What is your understanding of Afrocentric education and what do you think of it?
3. What do you think of the Toronto Africentric Alternative School?
4. Being a Black Canadian, how important is "Blackness", in the formation of your identity
and in your daily life?
5. How often do you share stories of your identity with your children and why is that
important?
6. Should race take centre stage, or become a component, in the education of Black
children? If so, why?
7. How do you feel about Black children attending a school that is predominantly Black and
taking courses focusing predominantly on Black people and Black culture?
8. Why do you view Afrocentric education to be important, or not important, to Black
students?
9. What does the Africentric School offer in terms of education that other public schools do
not provide?
10. Where do you see graduates from the Toronto Africentric Alternative School in 10 years?
11. What are some of the benefits and challenges that you anticipate will come with enrolling
Black children in an Africentric School?
12. Is there anything you wish to add that will help me in learning more about the Africentric
School?

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Appendix B.

Semi-Structured Interview Protocol: Focus Group

Research Title: Afrocentric Education: What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?
1. What are the key characteristics of Afrocentric education and how they are different from
the mainstream public education system?
2. What are the advantages or disadvantages with addressing Blackness as an aspect of
African-Canadian identity in the education of Black students?
3. How does Afrocentric education/ the Toronto Africentric Alternative School prepare
Black children for the Canadian job market in ways that mainstream public education/the
public school system does not?
4. How useful is the infusion of race and Black history in the education of Black children in
a receding job market where a specific set of skills; e.g. proficiency in technology and
mainstream corporate values and skills are arguably critical to one's success?
5. What are some of the short-term and long-terms impact of the public's positive and
negative perception of Afrocentric education on Black students?
6. What do you think is the relationship between Afrocentric and multicultural education?
7. Do you think Afrocentric education affirms or contradicts the goals and approaches of
multicultural education?
8. How does Afrocentric education address intra- ethnic differences, class, gender, disability
in education and at the Toronto Africentric Alternative School?
9. How does Afrocentric education/the Toronto Africentric Alternative School address
structural barriers such as high unemployment, poverty, etc., in Black families?
10. Why do you think that Afrocentric education is more inviting or encouraging to Black
parents vis-à-vis public education?

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Appendix C.

Advertisement to Recruit Research Participants

Research Title: Afrocentric Education: What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?
Are you a Black parent or Black parents and do you claim Africa as your ancestral
homeland and as part of your identity? If you are and do, I invite you to participate in a study
I am conducting that examines Black parent’s/ parents’ perceptions of the Toronto
Africentric Alternative School and Afrocentric education. The study is entitled “Afrocentric
Education: What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?”
Your participation in this study will help me answer a wide range of questions, including
race and ethnicity in education, Black parent's perception of the Toronto Africentric
Alternative School and Afrocentric education, particularly as regards their role in addressing
student underperformance.
Being part of this study will require you to share with me your perceptions of the Toronto
Africentric Alternative School and Afrocentric education, and what they mean in terms of
addressing the struggles of Black students and, more importantly, preparing them for the
opportunities and challenges awaiting them upon graduating.
Your participation in this project will be on a strictly voluntary basis, and your anonymity
will be protected. By participating, you will help to enhance public awareness of Afrocentric
education and its impact on Black students, while providing valuable insights into alternative
approaches to education. If you are interested in participating, please contact Patrick Radebe
at [email protected].

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Appendix D.

Initial Contact Letter

PhD Candidate: Thesis Supervisor:
Patrick Radebe Professor Handel K. Wright
Department of Educational Studies Department of Educational Studies
University of British Columbia University of British Columbia
2125 Main Mall Phone: (000) 000-0000
Vancouver, BC V6T 1Z4 Email: [email protected]
Email: [email protected]
Research Title: Afrocentric Education: What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?
Dear ____________:
My name is Patrick Radebe, and I am a PhD student in the Department of Educational
Studies at the University of British Columbia. I am currently conducting a study focusing on
Black parents’ (i.e., single parent, two-parents, foster parent and parents) perceptions of the
Toronto Africentric Alternative School and Afrocentric education. The study is titled
"Afrocentric Education: What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?
In focusing on the Toronto Africentric Alternative School (TAAS), this study will
address a wide range of issues, including race and ethnicity in education, Black parents'
perception of Afrocentric education and its role in addressing student underperformance.
As part of the study, participants would be required to share with me their perceptions of
the TAS race-based education, and what it means in terms of addressing the struggles of
Black students and, more importantly, preparing them for the opportunities and challenges
awaiting them upon graduating.
The study will take the following format: one individual interview that will last
approximately 1 hour 30 minutes and two focus group interviews, each session lasting 1
hour, with 6 participants per session following the completion of individual interviews. In
total, 6 males and 6 females will be interviewed.
To ensure the success of this study, I am writing you to enquire whether you would be
willing to assist me in locating Black parent(s) who may be interested in participating in this
project by forwarding to them the attached invitation to participate which outlines how
potential participants could contact me. By disseminating this invitation, you agree that you
will not be told who did/did not participate.
Such participation would be on a strictly voluntary basis and anonymity would be
assured. I also wish to enquire whether I might be permitted to post on your organization’s
bulletin board and/or website an advertisement aimed at recruiting participants. Please find
attached my recruitment advertisement, participant invitation, and subject consent form.
Your assistance in this matter would be very much appreciated. I may be contacted at
[email protected].
Sincerely yours,
Patrick Radebe

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Appendix E.

Subject Consent Form

Research Title: Afrocentric Education: What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?
PhD Candidate: Thesis Supervisor:
Patrick Radebe Professor Handel K. Wright
Department of Educational Studies Department of Educational Studies
University of British Columbia University of British Columbia
2125 Main Mall Phone: (000) 000-0000
Vancouver, BC V6T 1Z4 Email: [email protected]
Email: [email protected]
Dear Participant:
My name is Patrick Radebe. I am a PhD student in the Department of Educational Studies at
the University of British Columbia. My supervisor is Dr. Handel Wright (the principal
investigator for this project). I would like to ask you to participate in a research study, which
I am conducting for my doctoral dissertation. The purpose of this document is to inform you
about your rights and responsibilities if/when you decide to participate in this research
project. Please keep this document, which contains my contact information for your records,
and for future reference if/when your participation in this project changes. What follows is an
explanation of my research project and a detailed description of what it means to participate
in this project. Please read this document to decide if you are interested and willing to
participate. If you have further questions/concerns regarding this document or the project
itself, please feel free to contact me at [email protected]. You can also reach Dr.
Wright at (000) 000-0000 or via email at [email protected]. Thank you for your time
and consideration.
1. Purpose of the Study
You have been asked to participate in a research project currently titled “Afrocentric
Education: What does it mean to Toronto’s Black parents?” The term “Black parents,”
includes single parent, two-parents, foster parent and parents. The aim of this study is to
examine Toronto’s Black parents’ perception of the Toronto Africentric School and
Afrocentric education. You are being invited to take part in this research study because you
are a Black parent/parents, who currently live(s) in Toronto. Your insights will be extremely
important to this project. Your involvement would be approximately 2 hours 30 minutes over
an 8-month period.
2. Research Procedures
Interview, focus group and document analysis: You are being asked to participate in one
individual interview that will last approximately 1 hour 30 minutes. During the interviews
you will be asked to share your perception of the Toronto Africentric Alternative
School/race-based education. I will also conduct focus groups interviews, following the
completion of the individual interviews which will bring together all (or most) of the study
participants giving them the opportunity to address or elaborate upon emerging issues during

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the course of individual interviews. I will conduct two focus group interviews, each session
lasting 1 hour, with seven participants per session following the completion of individual
interviews. Two groups will allow me more flexibility to accommodate the needs of parents
(e.g., work schedule, childcare, etc.).
In order to facilitate the transcription of the interviews, I will tape record them. Should there
be a need for a follow-up interview, we will meet a second time for approximately 1 hour.
You are also requested to participate in two focus group discussions with other research
participants where we will discuss similar themes which may have arisen during the
individual interviews.
By signing this document you automatically give permission for your interviews to be taped.
However, if there are reasons that you would prefer not to be recorded, please notify me at
any time either before or during the interview and I will turn the recorder off. You will have
access to all the interview transcripts if you so desire. Finally, with your consent, I will take
ethnographic field notes during the course of our interviews.
3. Benefits to Participation
For your participation, you will receive an honorarium in the amount of $20 prior to the first
interview. If you stop the interview before it is finished, you will still receive the honorarium.
4. Potential Risks or Discomforts
If at any time during the research you wish to withdraw, please let me know. You are under
no obligation to participate and you can terminate your participation at any time. If you
decide to take part in this project, you can decide on the terms of your participation and
renegotiate them at any time. Prior to the interview, you will be given a list of free
counseling services in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA).
5. Confidentiality
All of the information that you share with me will be kept strictly confidential, and will not
be shared with anyone. No names or identifying information whatsoever will be used on
copies of individual files and tapes. My notes will have only your pseudonym (or false name)
for the purpose of identification. If you choose to participate in focus group interviews, you
will meet some of the other participants in this study.
You will be asked to keep discussions from the focus group confidential. Information
gathered from our individual interview(s) or you pseudonym with not be disclosed to other
participants. Information will be kept at for, at least, 5 years, as per UBC policy, in a locked
filing cabinet as well as in computer files protected by passwords known only to the
researcher. The only other person who may have access to the data will be my supervisor, Dr.
Handel Wright, who is subject to the same terms and conditions of confidentiality outlined in
this document. All researchers have a legal obligation to maintain the confidentiality and
anonymity of research participants, unless the participant reports any of the following: (1)
The desire to harm himself/herself, (2) the intent to harm others, or (3) in the case of minors,
a disclosure that physical, psychological, or sexual harm is being done to him/her. If any
allegations of inappropriate and/or illegal conduct are made, I will report these allegations to
a designated social worker at the Ministry of Children and Family Development. All other
information will remain confidential.

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6. Dissemination of Information
Possible uses for the data received in this study include: scholarly publications, academic
conferences as well as presentations to the general public. All materials pertaining to the
dissertation, as well as the dissertation itself will be available for you if you wish to see them.
You will be given an informal written and verbal report, including a public presentation by
the co-investigator on the research findings once data analysis is completed around
December 2013.
7. Contact for information about the study
If you have any questions or desire further information with regard to this project, you may
contact Patrick Radebe or her supervisor Dr. Handel Wright at the number(s) above.
8. Contact for concerns about the rights of research subjects
If you have any concerns about your treatment or rights as a research participant, you may
contact the Research Subject Information Line in the UBC Office of Research Services at
(604) 822-8598.
9. Consent
Your participation in this study is entirely voluntary and you may refuse to participate or
withdraw from the study at any time without consequence.
I have read this subject consent form and understand what it says. I am participating freely
without any pressure from the researcher, Patrick Radebe. I acknowledge that I have received
a copy of this form. The researcher has further reviewed this informed consent form with me,
and I have had the opportunity to ask questions concerning all aspects of my participation in
this project.
By signing this form I agree to participate in this research project, and to give the researcher,
Patrick Radebe, permission to record information as outlined in this consent form.

Signature of Participant ______________________________ Date____________________

Please Print Your Name _____________________________

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