Tennessee teacher fired for showing students this poem “White Privilege” by Kyla Jenee Lacey

 

From Slate.com:

THE SLATEST

What the Author of the Poem “White Privilege” Thinks of a Teacher Getting Fired for Showing It to His Class

“I know that it was just a terrible excuse for their discomfort,” said Kyla Jenee Lacey.

BY JULIA CRAVEN

JULY 15, 202112:24 PM

Kyla Jenee Lacey

Last month in Tennessee, social studies teacher Matthew Hawn was dismissed from his position after having his students read an essay by Ta-Nehisi Coates and watch the video of “White Privilege,” a poem written and performed by Kyla Jenee Lacey. 

The school board claimed their decision was rooted in “several inappropriate terms” used in the poem, but Lacey has good reason to be skeptical of that claim.

Hawn’s firing happened within the current uproar about kids being taught about America’s long history with racism, currently (incorrectly) labeled as critical race theory. This was only the latest time Lacey’s poem, which you can watch below, has gone viral. I spoke with Lacey about her poem’s fame, how she uses experiences with racism as fuel for her work, and finding her power. 

A history major who is now a writer, performer, actor, painter, comedian, and poet, she garnishes her exquisite observations about racism with the occasional “fuck.”

Read the whole conversation here.

"Do not go gentle into that good night"

 

Do not go gentle

into that good night,

                                 Old Age 

                                                        should 

BURN and RAVE 

at close of day;

rage

 rage 

against
the dying
of the light.

Though wise men 

at their end know 

dark is right,

Because their words 

                                 had forked no lightning 

                                 they

DO NOT 

                                 go gentle

                                                                  into that good night.

Good men, 

                                 the last wave by, 

                                                                  crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

                                 RAGE

                                              RAGE 

against the dying of the light.

Wild men who 

                                 caught 

                                    and 

                                      sang 

                                         the sun in flight,

And learn, 

too late, 

they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle 

into that good night.

Grave men, 

near death, 

who see

with blinding sight

Blind eyes could 

b  l  a  z  e 

like meteors 

and be gay,

Rage, 

R    A    G    E

against the dying 

of the light.

And you, 

my father, 

there 

on the sad height,

                                CURSE, 

                                                                BLESS me,          

                                                                                                                               now 

                                                                                                with your

                                FIERCE

                                                  TEARS, 

I pray.

DO

NOT

                                go gentle

                                                                into that 

                                                                                                "good" night.

,

                        ... RAGE ....

                                                                AGAINST

                                                                                                         the dying 

                                                                                                                                             of 

                                                                                                                                                       the

                                                                                                                                                                 light.

Dylan Thomas
(Oct. 27, 1914–Nov. 9 1953)