Looking at Gloria Ladson-Billings and Critical Race Theory

Gloria Ladson-Billings is a professor in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Wisconsin at Madison. However, she may be better known as one of the foremost voices on the subject of cultural competency.

One of her preferred subjects is that of critical race theory, or CRT. In a 1998 article for Qualitative Studies of Education, she examines its roots and asks the question, “What is it doing in education?”
Before delving into the topic, Ladson-Billings shares a story, as she feels that storytelling is a large part of CRT. In the professor’s story, she had finished the day as a lecturer at an esteemed southern university, and was happy to be in a warm town, as opposed to being surrounded by the frigid winds that blow through Wisconsin. Being a guest in the VIP section of her hotel, she made a decision to visit the private lounge for a cocktail and some down time. While seated on a comfy couch in her business attire, she was startled by the entrance of a southern white man who entered the lounge, saw her and asked, “What time are y’all serving?”

Ignorant? Of course. Realistic? In some parts of the country… absolutely.

I bring this upon reflection because from time to time, people, usually unknowingly, say ridiculous things to me. Allow me to qualify this statement. I am a white male of Irish heritage. My wife Elizabeth is African-American. This is no secret, as one can look on my newly enhanced Facebook page and see that the oversized heading shows a picture of us. But, not everybody we encounter on a daily basis is a Facebook friend, or familiar face for that matter. Among our sphere of influence of people here in Newport News, and even in my hometown of Alexandria, our interracial marriage is not an issue. Hooray for home!

It has been different on the road.

Elizabeth and I were married in November of 2003. Since we are both teachers, honeymoon time was at a premium, so we elected for a long weekend in Ocean City, MD. Unlike the author, we headed north. Ocean City is fun, especially in November when the crowds have left and given the town back to the 7,000 or so citizens, many of whom are retirees from Baltimore and Washington, DC.

On the second day of our honeymoon, we decided to venture to Fenwick Island, Delaware, a mere six blocks away from our home away from home off Coastal Highway. My parents had mentioned a restaurant called “House of Welsh,” so we figured that it might be a good idea to stop in for a liquid refreshment and maybe some dinner. That idea was trounced three seconds after entering when twenty pairs of eyes belonging to the elderly all-white clientele assembled in the lounge bored a hole right through my wife and I as we bellied up to the bar. It wasn’t a scary feeling, and it didn’t necessarily upset us. It was just… weird.

But it didn’t stop. We ordered a couple of drinks and tried to make pleasant conversation with the barkeep. After two minutes we realized that our beverages were not going to be finished because the level of discomfort was too high. After giving each other a knowing glance, I put a bill on the bar (didn’t bother asking for the check) and we left.

This was hardly my first experience with racism. Coming from a diverse town like Alexandria, Virginia, I was surrounded by people of many cultures and it was just the way we grew up. Our experience in the 70's was significant enough to become the subject of a movie in "Remember the Titans." However, it is certainly my most memorable experience, and I guess you could call it, my CRT moment